Recently I’ve started going to the gym regularly, and I’ve started punishing my weak flesh by lifting heavy pieces of metal. I know, I know … it sounds like the Body Snatchers grabbed me, and now someone else is inside Thomas. I am by far the most comfortable person I know, and I am lazy to a fault.
But the fact of the matter is that in the last three years I’ve managed to pack on 40 kilograms more than I’m supposed to be lugging around. It’s not all due to sloth, though. That year and a half where I was completely sidelined because of stress and anxiety certainly didn’t help, and the amount of comfort eating I did in that period exacerbated an already shitty situation.
So here I am, lugging my fatty corpus to the gym on a regular basis. I plan on dropping the first 30 kilogram in about a year and a half. If I can keep it up. Cross your fingers, eh?