“Hey, Fat Daddy!” my adorable 4-year-old yelled across the large department store.
Yep, that’s me. Basically, I’ve been sitting on the couch and munching Goldfish and M&Ms for the last couple of years, watching as my already ample self ballooned up to 235 pounds — a good 50 more than I ought to be.
Hence, the nickname, so lovingly given by my daughter. It was cute, for a week.
Now, I’ve noticed my otherwise fit 9-year-old son is carrying a small gut — nothing big yet, but still a small mirror of my snack-munching, sedentary lifestyle.
So, my wife and I declared this the Summer of Fitness.
