Lose Your Job Now! Ask Me How!

The woman at the DMV was staring at my new Driver’s License.

“You’ve lost some weight,” she said, comparing the old and new pictures.

“Really? You think so?” I asked, as I signed a sheet that confirmed I was receiving the new license.

“Oh, sure,” she said. “You can see it in the face.”

Now I compared them. I had to admit there was a difference.

“Well, it’s not a huge change, but I guess you’re right,” I said. “Thanks for noticing.”

“Have a nice day,” she said.

Now that older picture was taken four years ago, when I was admittedly on the high end of the scale. Not to mention the fact that it also immortalized one of the worst haircuts I’ve ever received. It looks like somebody hacked away at it with a dull set of pinking shears.

I am thinner now, but the astonishing thing is how much further I’ve got to go to fit into the parameters of a healthy lifestyle.

How did it get this bad?

Well, of course the metabolism changed along the way and the cheesesteaks began to register as love handles, as well as numerous other convenient ways to grab and carry me.

The job, a sedentary one that encouraged sitting and eating, worked hand-in-glove with the new metabolism to help set me on the wonderful road to Weebledom.

It never occurred to me to do anything about it. The thinking was that whatever I needed to eat or drink to get through the horrible day was forgivable. And so I drank however many sodas and ate however many cakes were necessary.

Yes, I threw myself on that frosted grenade.

And that’s when I found myself beginning to develop any number of problems: acid reflux, sleep apnea, back trouble, and high blood pressure.

All things I could have helped reduce by losing some weight. Instead, I’d slog through the workday, walk a short distance to the car, drive home, and deposit myself in the comfy chair for the evening.

Some exercise regimen.

I once again rationalized this lifestyle by telling myself that I had suffered enough during the horrible day and was now entitled to relax in any way I chose.

Of course, I only made things worse.

Now the wife has lost a tremendous amount of weight over the last year or so, merely by eating better and exercising.

Imagine that.

No shakes, no special meals, just better food and physical activity.

Just didn’t make sense to me, as I bit into another cheeseburger.

Well, here’s the interesting thing.

In the short time that I’ve been unemployed, which is to say away from the easy access to sodas and so-called “breakfast sandwiches,” I have managed to lose around ten pounds.

Part of this is due to the fact that the emotional upset of losing my job simply destroyed the appetite for the first few days following my termination. I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, eat.

In the past week, though, I’ve tried borrowing the wife’s walking route and try to get in 2 to 4 miles a day. And left to my own devices at home, I don’t eat all that often or as much.

How ironic it would be if their firing me actually saved my life.

Because, I have to tell you, that was the furthest thing from their minds.