I have consistently weighed in at over 150 pounds these past months, and no amount of running seem to bring me back to the right side of that. More like 155 than 150. This makes me wonder if Mark’s cooking is doing its work, or if I’m actually starting to develop some muscles.
If I’m gaining muscles, that would be a miracle, of course, since I still feel like I have stick arms and legs, compared to Mark. If I’m growing fat again, I’m going to be neurotic in a few months. Expect a lot of wangsting about it as we approach the wedding, if that is the case.
Earlier I joined up for some floorball, and I wrote a post about it. I have continued that since it gives me more varied exercise than just going out running. I still go out and run five miles every other day, but I’ve exchanged one running pass for one floorball pass.
I think maybe the floorball is doing me some good, and I think that is why I am gaining weight. Unless it is Mark’s delicious cooking. Mark is actually a pretty good cook, and since he enjoys cooking – unlike yours truly who cooks to have something to eat for the moment – he takes care about it.
I say all this because it has been on my mind as I approach the appointment with my GP for the bi-annual medical check. My mother has taught me good, and I go twice a year to be prodded and pinched in odd places by my GP.
He will note my increased weight, and maybe say something about it, and my mind has weighed what excuse I should have when he points his finger into my stomach and says “My you’re growing fat, aren’t you? It is time we put you on a diet”.