So recently I've been thinking a lot about shapes; particularly the shapes I am in (or not in) at the moment. Having spent most of my high school years at 5'11" and a solid 165 lbs with probably 7-9% body fat, it's interesting to see my body in the mirror before the shower. I haven't grown much vertically (at all, really, but I still hope I will), but I clocked in this morning at a buck eighty (that's 180 for those unfamiliar with such jargon). Now, you might be thinking that fifteen pounds since high school isn't too bad (it was over 10 years ago, after all), especially considering that my freshman year playing water polo in college I crossed into the 200 lbs section of the scale. There is, however, a big difference: I. Am. Fat. Am I obese? No. Is my health teetering on the brink of catastrophe? Nope, not that either. However, according to several different online calculators (thanks, Google, for helping me find them), I am close to 20% body fat. Again, you may sit back and say, "that's not that bad," but let's look at it from another perspective...
I love meat. I mean, love is maybe too weak a word. Our family went vegan a couple years ago, and though my wife won't allow us to buy meat and bring it home, I take every opportunity to cram red, juicy flame-broiled goodness down my throat when we are out and about. And while I like a burger, I absolutely cannot resist a nice, thick, juicy, medium rare (that would be pink with a spot of red for all those who have NO IDEA WHAT I MEAN when I order it and it comes with barely any pink) cut of steak. So in the shower this morning (yes, I'm that obsessed and deprived of meat), I was thinking about such a cut, and then it hit me: how would I react if the filet mignon I ordered was 20% fat when it showed up on my plate? Well I can tell you that I wouldn't be pleased, for starters! No wonder my wife gives me a hard time about my baby belly (you know, that thing men get in compassion for their pregnant wives, but never lose)! On the menu (in high school) she saw the filet mignon she wanted, then they bring it out on the table (after 5 years of marinating, i.e., marriage) and it has literally two cubic inches of fat for every eight of good meat. Now really, tell me how that would make any customer happy? And she didn't just drop a measly thirty bucks for a piece of meat, she bartered her whole life (and eternity, for that matter) to be with me!
So now that we have examined the idea from another angle (for some reason, everything is easier to swallow with meat in the picture), you understand my dilemma a little more (and my wife's, for that matter). My new goal is to get in shape. Have I had that goal before? Ummm...hasn't every person? Let's not answer that, actually, but let's just say instead that yes, I have had that goal before. I'll likely have it again regardless of the shape I find this time around, because getting in shape really means getting in better shape, and I will always have better shapes to be in until I look at least like this guy: Frank Medrano. Might take me a while (by might, I mean, it will, of course), but it seems like a good goal if I want to be the filet mignon my wife thought she saw on the menu over ten years ago.
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