There comes a time in every man’s life where he just realizes he is sick of it. I have been over 300 pounds too damn long and I am sick of it. I wanted to stop and get my secret two doughnut breakfast (that isn’t really a secret if your wife knows all about it and says nothing) and rockstar. I really did, and I almost stopped. But I am sick of being sick. I have said it before, that I needed a change, an epic change or an inspiration; but fuck it. I realized overnight what motivated me to lose the weight the first time wasn’t divine inspiration, or the will to motivate.
It was life or death desperation, time to shit or get off the pot. The difference is, now I am playing for so much more. I have the most amazing wife and kids who do not need an absentee father any more. They need a dad who, by example, shows them how much fun life can be without sugar, soda and a shit ton of negativity.
I am sick of being sick and tired. I am sick of the boss, I am sick of Kate Moss. I am sick of the characters on Friends, especially Ross. Time to live like a boss, and run the ranch like my boy Hoss. I have to take better care of my teeth with some dental floss, and gain control of my own life and weight loss.
OK, forgive that, it was a little rambunctious beat poetry down your gullet. But in all seriousness; I am tired of excuses. YES. It is going to suck for a while; I remember how boring it can be. YES, your knees are going to be screaming in two weeks (but then, remember how one day, they just didn’t?). Is it worth it, do I want it, can I do it, when? Now. No more bringing Amanda down; no more being jealous of the adventures my friends have; no more fucking excuses. Move, move now or die.
Jude Law says kill it Hildebrand: