There’s a baby bump resting here between me and my laptop. If seeing is believing then I must be about 3 months from my due date. Like some unwanted or unexpected pregnancy I’ve done my best to cover it up. I’ve adjusted my clothes to wear things a little looser or actually bought things a little too big so I appear to be losing weight. I’ve averted my eyes when I’ve been forced in front of mirrors preferring to focus on the white spreading through my beard rather than the inconvenient truth below. I’ve been annoyed at the company that manufactured the faulty scales on our bathroom floor. I think any scale that tries to tell me I’ve broken, o.k., demolished the 200 barrier is a bit dodgy.
Sadly I have to own this little one, nestling just below my ribcage. If the lying scales are to be believed it’s actually quite large for a 6 month old baby bump. I look to be not only the first man to give birth but I’m on track to be the first to give birth to a full grown adult. At the moment the little fellow is somewhere near 40 or 50 pounds and before too long he’ll be big enough to ride all the rides at Six Flags without me. And like everyone else who finds themselves in this situation I have no idea how it happened. I know, I know, you’ve heard this before, but I swear, I’m not that kind of guy. Nevertheless, here it is and every morning when I bend over to tie my shoes I’m reminded just how big the little fella is because I can’t reach my laces until I’ve put my foot up on a step.
It’s a vicious circle now. When I sit down for a meal I’m not just eating for me anymore, I’m eating for the bump too. The portions that used to satisfy me just aren’t enough anymore. The snacks that could hold me over can’t cut the hunger. I’m eating for both of us. And he’s a demanding little bump.
The time has come for me to terminate. The bump must go.
First I thought of surgery. A neat little caesarean and send the bump packing to someplace where he could be adopted, say the lips of some famous actress or one of those people who are famous for no apparent reason but for being famous. Then from time to time I could catch a glimpse of him on the cover of the tabloids at the check out at the grocery store and know that he’s o.k. and he’s happy and he’s making an important difference out there in the world. Perhaps, I mused, I might even see him win an Oscar.
But I’ve finally decided that, as close as we’ve become, I’m not all that fond of him. So I’ve decided to eliminate him all together. I wouldn’t want to say that out loud, I understand that there’s some speculation that baby bumps are actually able to pick up on what’s happening around them. I’m taking steps, several actually, to remove him from my life.
Ideally I could go off somewhere while it happens. Board a train to go visit my ‘Aunt’ down in the States for 3 months and come back a size 32 waist again. Sure, people would talk but at least I’d be able to see my feet again and for me that would be compensation enough for the looks I might get.
The trip to my ‘Aunt’ would require a level of income and an amount of free-time that I do not have. So I’ve opted for a different plan. I’m taking the little fella out for a run 3 days a week now. Early in the morning, Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I’m out the door and meeting a friend. We walk, talk and then we run. The bump doesn’t like it. In fact, he complains the whole way and he’s noisy enough that he’s got my whole muscular system pretty upset about this as well. We’ve gotten up to 2 kilometres of running with another kilometre or two of walking. My friend has set a goal for himself, a personal best, of running without stopping a total of 6 kilometres. Ambitious. My goal is to leave the bump behind somewhere along the run and to eventually stop getting lapped by the geriatric guy running with his nurse. Even if I never beat the old guy I really want to drop this baby bump for good. Being 50 pounds lighter sounds pretty good to me but I’m accepting the fact that at my current age and stage that’s going to take hard work and fewer Chips Ahoy.
If this doesn’t work though I’ve got a plan ‘B’. I’m going to gain 300 more pounds and audition for ‘the Biggest Loser’.
Wish me luck!