My clothes are getting stuffy and so are my pants. It is becoming more difficult to squeeze in tight places and the bulkiness of this frame makes me look like a tub of lard. Though I am way past the demands of market forces, the expanding girth reanimates my old fears. I refuse to be what I was but I don't know how to cease growing.
Bigger.
I have ran out of ideas to keep myself fit and with the unchecked appetite becoming a thorn in my side, I am on the verge of admitting that time has finally caught up. I may go on with my thrice-a-week gym visits, but with the bench press and dead lifts hardly making a dent on my thickening love handles, resistance is futile.
Slowing metabolism prevails.
Time will come that I may have to accept that I'm back to square one.
Slowing metabolism prevails.
Time will come that I may have to accept that I'm back to square one.