Morning Announcements c/o Mr. Union President

GATHER ROUND, EVERYONE! We have a few announcements this morning.

First thing, water rationing is over. Word is that there will be at least two liters coming down the pipe every single day. So, take as much as you need. Don’t be self-conscious about this. I realize that this is a huge adjustment for most of you. Enjoy it.

On the flip side, don’t panic. No, you will not drown. That’s not possible. Nobody will be pouring any water straight into our airways. Likewise, don’t hold on to all that water for fear that it will dry up again. Word on the street is that this time is different.

[Wait for laughter to subside before continuing.]

The water initiative is a part of something called… [looks down to check notes]…”April Goals,” of which, I believe, there are three.

One of the goals, tracking food every day in something called an “app,” doesn’t really involve us, so don’t worry about it. But the final goal, “20 days of exercise” is all on us.

Spring is here, so everyone should get excited about this one. This means long walks outside, people. And, I know it’s early, but there could be a bike ride in the park this month. It’s possible, so buck up. It won’t be all spin bikes and sandbag workouts forever.

From what I learned at the last Commission meeting, there are some pretty significant fitness goals in committee. Nothing concrete has been fleshed out yet, but the ultimate goal will be to get stronger, faster, and more flexible. I don’t know this from experience, but I think we’ll all really like the end result.

Before we adjourn this morning, let us take a moment to acknowledge the departure of pounds #206 and #207. I know that most of us didn’t want to see these guys come back again this time around, and they didn’t really fit in here. Like it or not, however, they were a part of this operation, and we honor them this morning.

[Bows head in silence.]

Ok everyone, that’s it from me this morning. We’ll meet again in a few days. Enjoy all of that water. Back and leg muscles, I hear that you’re both in for a beating this morning. Enjoy it.

That’s all for me.

[Exit.]

Address

Twenty months later, here I am again.  Yes, it is time to brace yourself, dear imaginary reader, for another “fresh start” post. Another “starting over” promise. Another “never again” memorandum.

Before heralding my own triumphant return to dieting, fitness, and writing about it on a blog with exactly 0 readers, I would like to address the elephant in the room.

[ahem]

DEAR ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM, ALSO KNOWN AS THE TWENTY-FIVE POUNDS THAT I HAVE GAINED SINCE OCTOBER, 2014:

Welcome, welcome.

It’s nice to see you again. Hello. Yes, have a seat. There are some extra seats in the back.

Thank you for coming today.

It seems like only yesterday that I welcomed you into my life for the very first time. Many of you will recall packing yourself into this already over-crowded space just six short years ago.  We were, if you remember, building our first baby. The arrival of some of you was inevitable. Necessary, even. But the rest of you, well, let’s just say that we had plenty of hands on deck to get the job done without you, am I right?

[Pause for laughter.]

But listen, I do appreciate your enthusiasm. You showed up, ready to get the job done. And look how that worked out. You helped build a healthy, beautiful boy. You helped get him out into the world. You helped feed him for months. You gave him a soft place to sleep. For that, I can’t thank you enough.

And I’m sure that many of you knew that you couldn’t stay. There wasn’t room for everyone, and your presence here threatened the survival of the rest of us. Of me. We had to say goodbye.

I hope our parting wasn’t too painful for you. I don’t remember how most of you left, but I remember that it was a happy time for most of us. I’m pretty sure most of you left after long summer walks while pushing the new baby in his stroller. The rest of you let go and slipped away after piles of fresh veggies. Some of you starved from lack of cupcakes. It was your time, and I think most of you knew it. We all moved and you moved on.

Then there was good news. A baby girl! And it was good, no, GREAT to see you again! I know, I know, some of our old compatriots didn’t come back the second time around, didn’t get to help us build that second human. I’m not really sure if it was the sick, the dizzy, the vomit, or all of the hateful, horrifying smells that kept them away, but not everyone returned. I think it was for the best, I really do. We all managed to build an even bigger baby. With CURLS. And we got her out of her in, like, two minutes flat. Do you even remember how short the recovery was with her? I mean, we were out furniture shopping and hanging by the pool when she was, what, four days old? We were BADASSES. Seriously, well done, everyone.

[pause for applause]

And we all, all of us, worked to feed her and cuddle her and give her a strong start in this life, but again, we could not keep all of you around forever. We said goodbye to you with jugs of water, dropped you by the side of the road on long bike rides, left you at the bottom of long beach staircases, and crushed you with heavy weights and burpees in the basement. Again, it was time.

But now, here you are again. But this time, there is no baby to build. There is no extra body to feed. There is no life to give. You’re just...here.

Listen, I know some of you snuck in, uninvited, when I turned 35. It’s an age thing. I completely understand. But the rest of you…? I mean, I take full responsibility for making you feel like it was time to come back. I was distracted by massive stress, see, and possibly some severe depression. My mom died, and I didn’t move very much, and I had a real hard time dealing with a lot of professional bullshit.

I made some bad choices. There was the month-long Halloween Candy Party back in October, and the holidays, of course, are always a bitch. And you guys came back, and I get it, I really do, but they were just parties. I invited you, I know, and I don’t mean to send mixed signals, but generally the polite thing to do after a party is…y’know…to leave. You can’t just…stay. Forever. It’s just not done.

I know this is harsh, but this body just doesn't have the resources for you. Moving you around is hell. It's exhausting. Feeding you, watering you, getting air and blood to you is killing me. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this any longer.

This isn’t like it was with the babies. You had a job to do then and, goddamn it, you did it well. But now you’re just…sitting here. Everybody here is sore, most of us are miserable, and nobody is getting enough sleep. And, if I’m 100% honest, you guys look like hell. You’re all…puffy. Bumpy. And…sallow. This isn’t going to work. There’s just no room for you.

It’s only fair, really. I’ve been promising the Happily Married Pounds that I would get rid of them for years, and the Law School Weight is starting to think it’ll have to hang around here forever, and truth be told, nobody likes those law school types hanging around all the time. I know, I know, there is a lot of work to be done. But listen, this is super important, ok? Those two beautiful babies, remember them? Well, I want to see them grow up. I want to run and play with them and, as it stands, I am just too tired and miserable to do much of anything.  And you helped build them! Don’t you want what’s best for them? What’s best for the rest of us?

Please know that it is time for you to go and, if it’s not too much trouble, we’d all like a little bit of help severing ties. I, for one, promise to do my part. I’ll take you for a few last walks this spring. We’ll even go for a bike ride. But, be warned. There will be lots of water. Lots of…raw vegetables. I know you hate that shit, and it’ll make you leave quickly, but it’s really for the best.

I think that we can acknowledge that nobody is happy. It’s time to change that.

We appreciate your cooperation.