Beach Weather Is Here, And I’m Still Fat

Beach Weather Is Here, And I'm Still Fat

If you’re anything like me, this is one of your favorite times of the year. The weather is warm, and beautiful, but not stiflingly hot (on the east coast, at least). Just a few weeks ago, we were all complaining about summer never coming and how brutal the past winter was. A few weeks from now, we’ll be saying that it’s too humid outside to breathe, and that the summer isn’t enjoyable. If you’re lucky enough to have air conditioning, stepping outside in the middle of summer feels like you’re inside a womb. Because we’re all whiny ass humans, we should definitely take the time to appreciate the one time of year where you can always bring up how beautiful it is outside when you’re having small talk with coworkers, and can’t think of anything else to talk about besides the weather.

There’s really only one major downside about the weather this time of year – it’s time to hit the beach, and your plan to have a hot body by summer has failed. You’re still fat, and it’s too late. I can talk about this, and only be considered a half-douchebag, because I’m in the same boat right along with you. I’m hanging in a pretty dangerous zone right now. If I keep my clothes on, I look pretty slim/fit, which I’m okay with. I’ll mention needing to hit the gym, or turn down cake for the Employee of the Month celebration, and people say, “What do you mean?! You look great!” They have no idea what lies beneath these thin pieces of cloth.

I have layers, like an onion. I know that’s a common metaphor people tend to use about their personalities, but I’m more like one of those blooming onions at the gross, low end steakhouse chain around the corner. You see me, and you think it’s a good idea, then you dive in, and you see it’s just a sloppy, fatty, mushy mess, and you immediately regret it.

I can only blame myself though. I’m not actually overweight, so my plan is always to work out really hard/often, and just take it easy on the food and booze without torturing myself. It doesn’t work though, because working out hard/often IS torture. And when you’re feeling tortured, the only thing to do is treat yourself with beer and tacos.

We’re well into June now, so I intend on just biting the bullet and accepting what I’ve become. Fuck those crash diets where I might end up killing myself to look better without a shirt, I’m gonna own this shit. Rather than be ashamed of the gut that I’ve worked so hard on, I can come up with neat, interesting ways to make it work for me. Maybe I’ll meet someone with a Buddha fetish, who’s really into rubbing my belly for good luck. Or even better, someone to treat me like a Roman emperor and feed me grapes and Spicy Nacho Doritos.

That’s probably not going to work for me, but I’m still not putting on a shirt. Here’s to not being a lard ass next summer!

Image via Shutterstock

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It's a weird life, but it's where I'm at right now.

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