How I knew...

…I had hit my rock bottom…

I honestly don’t 100% know what I weigh right now. Not because I have ballooned to the point where I need a slaughterhouse scale to weigh me, but because the battery has gone flat in the scale. That’s not the point of this post, although I’m hoping it reminds me to get a battery later after work.

Here’s my Rock Bottom Moment, posted for all the world to see.

I took my son to McDonald’s on Sunday. We were out and this is a good place to get gluten free food for him (grilled chicken and fries) so, while I don’t really want to eat there he likes it, it was convenient, and it was getting late. So we got our grilled chicken and drinks and an order of fries and I set up our table. I went to st in the booth and, goddammit, America, I could not fit in the booth.

Let me state that once more, I was too fat to fit in the booth.

At McDonald’s.

Yes, I was too fat to fit in the booth at McDonald’s yesterday. Man, when you’re too big to fin in the seat at a place where they make fat people (or make people fat. Whichever, I think I’m gonna go with hyperbole) it’s time to seriously make a change.

I’m angry enough that I need to buy 2 pairs of big boy pants for the coffee shop* (it’s getting too darned cold to work the drive through in shorts and a short sleeve polo any more) but holy shit, I had to go to a table, It was embarrassing to say the least. My kid doesn't care, but I'm pretty tired of being the fat dad.

I have an enormously full plate in my life but I obviously need to carve out gym time. I can’t *not* do it. I have to sacrifice something, and it’s probably going to be time I’d like for something else, but that’s why it’s called sacrifice, right?

Here we go. This time I mean it :)

*Loyal readers may remember that I gave away all my fat clothes back in November of 2009. Yes, two years ago I had lost enough weight that I got rid of my 38s and 40s. And the 36s as well. Grrrr….