(no subject)
Very few people can hit so many of my pet peeves in a row like my brother can. I'm not going to be gentle about this because he has put on a scary amount of weight the past two years. The first 20 pounds we ignored but the next 30 after that? We started getting worried.
He has officially gotten worried about it too. I know this because he won't fucking shut up about it. I have lost a lot of weight in these past three years. I have put some of it back on and then have spent the last 6 months steadily chipping away at it again. I knocked 5 bmi points off the last year. I know what I'm talking about. I also had help.
My mom paid for the nutritionist and the personal trainers. She let me wrack up her fitness club bill on yoga, boxing, and running classes so I could learn and find out what sort of fitness person I am. Running, with the occasional yoga is great for me. I should get back into boxing but that'll have to wait a bit.
I'm offering to pay it forward with him. I'm offering to teach him about nutrition, to teach him about running.
Tonight, we figured out what he weighed and a goal weight for him. 50 pounds. I would have pushed for more, but I settled with a less intimidating number. Instead he throws back at me, what losely translates into "This sounds like a huge time commitment and something that I'm going to be stuck doing for the rest of my life. I just don't think it's at a point where that seems worth it to me."
His fitness isn't worth it to him? His health? Fine, frustrating but fine. I can work with that, except then he had to go throw in, "I unlike the rest of this family, aren't as poorly off as you used to be. I can afford to not worry about it for now."
He also implied that my mom basically paid for the weight to disappear, like I didn't go to the gym 5 times a week. Like I didn't give up most grains and carbs for three years. Like that 5k I run three times a week isn't fucking work. His metabolism is better than mine has been or will ever by and he will be able to lose weight so much easier than I could ever even imagine.
The only thing I'm proud about that went down in that conversation was the fact that I for once told him when he'd stepped too far. I usually let this shit slide, which is probably why he can be such a brat today. Not that it's my job to parent him.
I told him that it had reached a point where he could only continue to complain about his weight if he was willing to do something about it. I dont' care if we try some diets and they don't work for him and they fail. He can bitch all about his weight then. But if his only excuses nowadays are "I'm too lazy to fix it." then fuck him. He cannot complain.
I don't complain when I gain five pounds because I ate crap food all week. That right there is life. Almost every single person in life comes to a point where they have to watch what they eat and make consciencely healthy choices. Some of us have to start earlier than others. Just be glad you have people in your life willing to help you out with it.
His complaints were weak and further more indicative of a far scarier problem. He's such a goddamn man-child. I say this with love and deep regret because as his older sister, I worry that I didn't do something along the way to prevent this. Last night he tells me he's depressed because he's put on weight, because he's going to have to watch his diet for the rest of his life, because he's going to have to work a 9 to 5 five days a week, because he's up first in the house. Lies, I'm up at 6:30 everyday, I just spend an hour or so lounging around with my laptop before getting ready for work. Because I have a shorter commute than him.
Either way, I just don't want to hear this woe is me shit. Seriously. He's got so fucking little to be woe-is-me about. He always pulls the first world problem card on me and I'd like to shove it right back in his face. He's a white, male, native English speaker, from an upper-middle class upbringing, with a bachelor's degree and good enough grades to get into a decent graduate program.
This rant is getting long and if I'm sick of typing, god knows no one else has gotten so far.
Just family, and the way they can so easily piss you off. Unfair.
He has officially gotten worried about it too. I know this because he won't fucking shut up about it. I have lost a lot of weight in these past three years. I have put some of it back on and then have spent the last 6 months steadily chipping away at it again. I knocked 5 bmi points off the last year. I know what I'm talking about. I also had help.
My mom paid for the nutritionist and the personal trainers. She let me wrack up her fitness club bill on yoga, boxing, and running classes so I could learn and find out what sort of fitness person I am. Running, with the occasional yoga is great for me. I should get back into boxing but that'll have to wait a bit.
I'm offering to pay it forward with him. I'm offering to teach him about nutrition, to teach him about running.
Tonight, we figured out what he weighed and a goal weight for him. 50 pounds. I would have pushed for more, but I settled with a less intimidating number. Instead he throws back at me, what losely translates into "This sounds like a huge time commitment and something that I'm going to be stuck doing for the rest of my life. I just don't think it's at a point where that seems worth it to me."
His fitness isn't worth it to him? His health? Fine, frustrating but fine. I can work with that, except then he had to go throw in, "I unlike the rest of this family, aren't as poorly off as you used to be. I can afford to not worry about it for now."
He also implied that my mom basically paid for the weight to disappear, like I didn't go to the gym 5 times a week. Like I didn't give up most grains and carbs for three years. Like that 5k I run three times a week isn't fucking work. His metabolism is better than mine has been or will ever by and he will be able to lose weight so much easier than I could ever even imagine.
The only thing I'm proud about that went down in that conversation was the fact that I for once told him when he'd stepped too far. I usually let this shit slide, which is probably why he can be such a brat today. Not that it's my job to parent him.
I told him that it had reached a point where he could only continue to complain about his weight if he was willing to do something about it. I dont' care if we try some diets and they don't work for him and they fail. He can bitch all about his weight then. But if his only excuses nowadays are "I'm too lazy to fix it." then fuck him. He cannot complain.
I don't complain when I gain five pounds because I ate crap food all week. That right there is life. Almost every single person in life comes to a point where they have to watch what they eat and make consciencely healthy choices. Some of us have to start earlier than others. Just be glad you have people in your life willing to help you out with it.
His complaints were weak and further more indicative of a far scarier problem. He's such a goddamn man-child. I say this with love and deep regret because as his older sister, I worry that I didn't do something along the way to prevent this. Last night he tells me he's depressed because he's put on weight, because he's going to have to watch his diet for the rest of his life, because he's going to have to work a 9 to 5 five days a week, because he's up first in the house. Lies, I'm up at 6:30 everyday, I just spend an hour or so lounging around with my laptop before getting ready for work. Because I have a shorter commute than him.
Either way, I just don't want to hear this woe is me shit. Seriously. He's got so fucking little to be woe-is-me about. He always pulls the first world problem card on me and I'd like to shove it right back in his face. He's a white, male, native English speaker, from an upper-middle class upbringing, with a bachelor's degree and good enough grades to get into a decent graduate program.
This rant is getting long and if I'm sick of typing, god knows no one else has gotten so far.
Just family, and the way they can so easily piss you off. Unfair.