Let’s cut the crap. Before Captain poopy-pants arrived, I used to work out three times a day. Now, I struggle to find time to floss. Don’t get me wrong: I don’t resent my beautiful son. I appreciate every moment I get to spend nurturing his gorgeous, tender soul. And I don’t shake my fist in the air at him silently just because he turned me into something that looks a clay sculpture of Mark Wahlberg that was dropped off a ledge and then went bald and got big rings under its eyes.
But let’s just say since Baron von Burpenstein showed up, it’s been hard to sleep. And hence hard to find time to exercise, or brush my teeth.
I used to take pride in my appearance, but I am so overjoyed at the pleasures of fatherhood I hardly even spend all day in front of the bathroom mirror weeping.
OK, so enough about who gained weight and is now embarrassed to be naked even by himself. Bottom line: I look like a piece of melted gouda cheese with two raisins stuck in it.
I bought a bathroom scale, but I was like, “How can this possibly be the number this scale is saying? It must be broken.” So I threw it out and bought a new one. The same thing happened. Odd. Doesn’t anyone make scales that work anymore? When I could no longer afford to buy more scales, I finally had to face the truth. The scales weren’t broken. The problem was me. I was having visual hallucinations.
So I went to see an eye doctor, who confirmed my suspicions. I have become so overweight it is making me go blind. It’s called morbid cornea obesity, and apparently it can be brought on by innocent everyday activities such as having a baby, or eating 997 individually wrapped Kraft cheese singles, which they don’t warn you about on the package. And really once you eat the first few, what’s the point in putting a half empty case of cheese back in the fridge, especially at 2AM?
Anyway, I realized something had to change when none of my clothes fit me. And I so began making mu-mu’s out of the bed sheets.
When none of the bed sheets fit me anymore, I decided it was finally time to stop making excuses, and do something about it.
And so I devised a few easy ways to sneak fitness routines into the day while tending to junior. I really feel like a new man now, and the best part is, you can do all of these exercises while parenting your child.
1. Carry the baby around the house on a cinderblock for an hour each morning. Good for the glutes. Note: a cinderblock can be rough on a newborn’s skin, so fold two paper towels on top of the cement as padding.
2. Lay awake at night all night worried your baby will stop breathing. Repeat in sets of one, nightly, until you can’t feel your arms anymore.
3. Put a 20-pound dumbbell inside the baby’s diapers. Carefully cradle the baby/dumbell under your arm, being sure to support his neck. Do 10 sets of 15 reps with each arm. Don’t forget to rinse off the weights when you change the diaper.
4. Get up to pee in the middle of the night, delirious with new father fatigue and stub your toe on the side of the bed so hard that you first see red, then black, then white, then some of the early abstract color fields of Barnett Newman. Declare, “It’s broken for sure” to no one in particular in between cursing like an Albanian sailor who just lost his sister and three toes in a ponzi scheme. Go to the baby and say in a whimper, “Daddy broke his toe.” Rest at least 10 minutes before next set.
5. Tuck the baby carefully inside the front of your sweatpants. Jump rope.
6. Fall asleep in the act of eating. Catch yourself as your skeletal muscles relax and your neck drops and jerks you back awake. 8 sets of eight. This is a killer neck work out. Also fall off a stool. In between each round, actively lose some hair.
7. Lay face down on the floor and have your training partner put your baby in a position so that the child’s legs are straddling your neck, as if he was riding a horse. Use duct tape to secure your infants’ ankles together in front of your throat. Do clapping push-ups.
8. Lock yourself out of your home. This works best if you have a door that locks by itself and you are wearing only that pair of underwear you cannot explain still owning. For the first rep, take out a bag of dirty diapers and drop them down the trash chute or put them in a garbage can. Make sure the door locks behind you and you have no key and are in your underwear and that no one but the baby is home so you are unable to get back inside and are in a panic that the baby stopped breathing as soon as the door latches.
9. If you live in an apartment, each time you enter the building, put the baby in the elevator, press your floor number and then run up the stairs as fast as you can. See if you can arrive before the elevator does or someone steals your baby.
10. Mention one more fucking time to your wife, who has just had a baby, that you feel fat.
Prepare to run. Fast.
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Comedy – The Huffington Post
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