The Man in the Mirror

To quote the King of Pop:

I'm starting with the man in the mirror
(Ooh!)
I'm asking him to change his ways
(Ooh!)
And no message could have been any clearer
If you wanna make the world a better place
(If you wanna make the world a better place)
Take a look at yourself and then make a change
(Take a look at yourself and then make a change)

I walked by a mirror the other day. I'm not talking about the kind of mirror that sits above the sink, showcasing the face and the hair. I'm talking about the full-length wall mirror near our living room. Yes, I walk past this mirror just about every day, but this time was different. I got home from my softball game and Mrs. Undaground was out of the house. I had worked up a pretty good sweat, so I thought I'd throw all my clothes right in the washing machine and do the nude sprint across the house to get to the shower. As I passed the mirror, I thought for a moment that some naked fat guy was chasing me, until I came to the sick realization that I was that guy. That moment may have changed my life. The man in the mirror is quickly turning into the "before" picture in any bowflex infomercial.

A few days later, I walked next door to the cafeteria for my lunch break. To be fair, I only go there about once a week. The woman behind the counter smiled and said, "Hi. Would you like your usual..." Then she went on to name a dish that is anything but healthy. My ears hurt from hearing it. How I wanted Superman to fly around the world and turn back time so I could tell this woman that my "usual" is field greens with balsamic vinagrette on the side. I could feel the eyes in the cafeteria fixed on me and judging me, wondering who is the farm animal who had the cajones to allow this delicious, yet deadly dish to be referred to as "his usual".

I have been proudly pronouncing that I'm trying to keep up with Mrs. Undaground for the past few months. I've been like some junk food cheerleader. Last week, she even told me that I was a bad influence on her as far as the food thing is concerned. And, believe me, I have been. I've been milking this thing as much as I can. We've watched our bellies grow together. I guess the one minor difference in this whole equation is that I don't have another human being growing inside of me, unless we've made some kind of genetic breakthrough I'm unaware of and we're having fraternal twins.

I believe that because of the fat guy in the mirror and my public embarrassment in the cafeteria, I've now reached the level of shame necessary for me to have a healthy shake for breakfast, and another for lunch. That's right. Beginning Monday, I'm on the SlimFast diet. I can't hold out til the baby's born. I may reach the point of no return if I stay on this road.

My belly has gone from a distinguished beer gut, to a manageable paunch, to the present situation, that can best be described as "cartoonish". I can no longer sit in idle as buttons pop off of my pants. One too many t-shirts now sit in the useless pile that can't be worn in public. The belly-shelf is growing. From a sitting position, I can now use the belly-shelf to hold the remote control, a glass of water, and an Armenian orphan on a tricycle. It's time to make a change.

I've said this before, and look where I am. Who knows, I think I'm serious this time. I don't want to be skinny. I just want to manage this growth before it gets out of control. I've accepted the fact that I'll never see my abdominal muscles again unless I fall into a well and live off of crickets for a few months. I yearn to wear horizontal stripes again.

Today, I am committing to two weeks on the Slimfast diet, beginning Monday. I will reassess the situation then and decide how to proceed. I've been to their website and I have a battle plan. Until then, I will do my best to avoid the pre-diet binge.