Posted by: David Stewart | September 24, 2010

The Chubby Hubby

I got a chuckle out of "How come my husband gets to let himself go?", a story in yesterday’s Salon Magazine. In it, the author bemoans the loss of her husband’s rock-hard abs from their courtship days, and his serial attempts to get back onto the exercise / diet routine.

She has even gotten their children in on the act now, calling him "Fluffy" and suggesting he audition for "The Biggest Loser", an American contest show where extremely overweight contestants are tortured into losing their fleshiness.

But the parade of abandoned exercise equipment and wasted gym memberships sounds all too familiar. I guess it’s funny to me, because I see myself in it a little too clearly.

When I was but a young lad, I never considered myself to be at all fit or studly. I played basketball in 6th grade because I had the height and soccer in junior high because, well, everyone did. But by the time I hit college, I was delighted to learn that my physical education requirement could be met by two semesters of bowling.

And I met and married this gorgeous woman, who was a phenomenal cook and so we married, had kids, settled down and the rest, as they say, was waistline history.

Until, that is, we decided it was time to change all that.

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