New Years Eve; I complain about the obscene belly fat I'm carrying. My waist is 40. The fattest in my life, during a downswing, was 36. I'm freaking out. I'm single and older. I'm gay. This is an emergency. My brother tells me; "You can't get rid of it now. You're too old, after a certain age you can't really lose that." This he says six days after my 66 birthday. He doesn't understand the mind of a gay man; certainly not a single one over sixty.
I go gluten free. Oh hell yes, I'm dairy free. What the fuck.! I start to get ever so slightly more energetic. I start to see results. It makes me dive back into exercise. I start to have anxiety if I miss the gym two days in a row. What do you think? Five weeks almost six later I am a 34. I can live with 34. I will not. I will become a kickboxer and get back down to 32. I took a picture of my belly before I started gluten free. I looked at it occasionally to give me incentive. It was motivating. I took a picture today. OMG fucking exclamation point! It's an ad for the back of a comic book. I should post the two pictures on facebook like every other asshole in the world. Never. I may also be an asshole but I am not like every other asshole in the world.
So what do brothers know after all? God bless him; he just talks shit like all the rest of us. Experts on things we know nothing about. Is it any wonder that in Proverbs God tells us the smartest thing we can ever do is not open our mouths. Even when praying. He says 'use as few words as possible'. God doesn't want to hear our bullshit. Funny since He invented it.