I’ve mentioned before that I was a fat kid.
I probably never mentioned that I wasn’t always a fat kid.
Before I started elementary school, my Uncle George would call me “Spaghetti Arms” because of how thin they are. They still are. I can’t remember a point since I began wearing adult watches that I haven’t had to use the tightest notch in the band. My current watch does rotisseries if I shake my wrists enough.
Yeah, I know I could lift weights or something but that would require truly exerting myself.
Anyway, before my Grandma fattened me up — because she didn’t want school officials to think I was being starved — I was a rail. Even to this day, I fidget a lot when I’m somewhere that doesn’t require decorum. (I can’t even sit in my chair at work for my entire shift. I go downstairs at least once to buy a drink or for the sake of going down some stairs. I want to pay for a garage space again but I’ll miss my stroll at 6 p.m. to move my car.)
Even after I grew into my weight once puberty hit, there was one constant: my stomach. I grew a small pot belly as a kid and it never went away. I was kinda self-conscious about it. For a while, I didn’t tuck my shirts in because you couldn’t tell that way. I thought it was weird that I was 150 pounds soaking wet and could jiggle my belly. I could wear size 30 pants, but I had a gut. I would do endurance bike rides for fun, yet on a bad day, I could not see my feet if I pinned my chin to my chest.
I eat vegetables as a snack. I don’t really like carbs and sugary things. I refused to actually exercise beyond riding my bike. And I stopped doing that when I never got around to bringing it with me when I moved to Central Virginia in 2006 and then promptly fell off the one I bought in 2009 because I what I thought was a hill actually was a ha-ha.
I figured it was just going to be one of those things that sticks around for the rest of my life. Unless I gave up/in and actually did some sort of ab workout.
But a peculiar thing is happening now.
Since I’m making a concerted effort to lose all the crap I gained from my awful commute in late 2015 and early 2016, I’ve noticed that my stomach is shrinking. It’s actually shrinking.
I have two shirts I bought in New York in 2015 without trying them on. There were sized large to European standards (because they were from Spain) and accentuated the wrong subtleties. I kept them in the closet as goals for whenever I actually tried to lose weight and my gut miraculously shrank.
I also kept them because I had some extra cash at that moment and spent way more on than I usually do on two frickin’ shirts.
I tried one on because I was curious. It actually looks almost decent. Perhaps they’ll finally see the light of day this spring.