The first day back after a long week (and a day) off are so terribly slow and painful. On the struggle bus is but an understatement, let me tell you, because homeboy was dying at his desk on Tuesday of last week. Christmas fell on a Sunday, so around this time last year, I planned to have the week of Christmas 2016 to myself. I wasn’t worried about the time being gone because I’m generally smart with my time off at work and S always has extra time to spare.
The holidays are always a great time – largely in part to the amount of Crown Royal we consume. “Ho Ho Ho!” scream our livers. S’s dad definitely makes sure the bar is properly stocked when we’re down home. We’re never hurting in the wine and spirits department. The thing we were most looking forward to was chilling at home with each other; to completely decompress.
We did a whole lot of nothing and it was absolutely fabulous. S played a lifetime’s worth of video games while I just zenned out with a plethora of self care treatments. Another huge plus of our time off was familiarizing ourselves with our new home deep fryer. We can’t say enough good things about how the fryer has stepped up our kitchen game.
2017 brings in the new grind. I’ve been drifting away from new year resolutions because there’s always so much I want to accomplish. S and I both vowed a couple years ago that working on our health, fitness, and overall well-being would always be a big focus. Your health shouldn’t have to be a resolution – I get it, I do – but instead, a commitment that is lasting and honest.
I foresee pretty big changes on the job front for me this year. My freelance public relations projects are picking back up and I’ve been working on ideas to pitch for writing opportunities. S is doing really well at his job and can now breathe with his Master of Accounting degree being complete. There are still some late nights, but Reynold and I don’t mind too much. We understand.
Eat Slay Love. We survived an extremely (and unpredictably) busy 2016 and we’re both entering 2017 a little sluggish; if we’re being truthful. Never fear, though! I think this is just part of being an adult. We enjoyed the hell out of our time off and time with each other, so sure, we’re wishing we could go back to that week (lol). So with that being said…
Goodnight. And don’t let the trap queens bite,
Hello! And Happy New Year! It’s been a while since I’ve posted a progress report, so here goes:
Data collection #3, November 18, 2015:
Weight – 232.4
Body fat – 27.1%
BMI – 31.4
Data Collection #4, January 16, 2016:
Weight – 231.3
Body fat – 25.2%
BMI – 31.3
The holiday season was trying, per usual, and I did put on some weight. Last week I was back up to 237 lbs, but was able to get back down in just one week. I’ve been doing strong lifts in the gym, and made it a point to make sure I was really digging deep this past week. Adding 2.5 lbs to 5 lbs on each of my sets (each week) has kept me challenged, and really showcased the fact that heavy lifting, and a good amount of healthy fat consumption, can make all the difference during a carb detox/recovery. My weight was up and down since my last progress report, and it’s all due to those couple of carb moments, and slacking off on my intermittent fasting schedule. We’re back on it, though! Get ready for some results 😉
Overall progress since data collection #1:
down 14.2 lbs
down 5.3% body fat
The four of us sat in a group at the front of the funeral hall. It was visitation for my husband’s late grandmother, Mae, who’d passed peacefully at her nursing home a few days earlier. The mood was somber, tense, and was haunted by all the happy memories Grandma Mae had left behind. I’d only met her a couple of times, but those moments were enough. “…and this is my husband, Jamal.” There was a power in that introduction, and because of it, I’ll never forget those first few minutes of meeting Grandma Mae. My husband and I had been together almost four years, and I’d never heard anyone from his side of the family refer to me as “husband.”
Time and small talk took a moment, as my husband’s mother and father approached. “Come meet the kids! You remember David, and his wife Alice…” His mother continued with a smile. “…and our youngest, Stanley, and his friend from school, Jamal.” I smiled, gave a polite nod to the cheerful strangers, and felt phantom burning around my wedding band. I’d come to expect this introduction in any situation that involved meeting friends of my parent-in-laws. In the past I’d let it slide – chalking it up to their old school ways, and not really knowing how to introduce their son’s husband to familiar faces – but this time, the word “friend” really got me thinking.
I wondered why being referred to as “friend” was bothering me now. To villainize my in-laws is not my intention. The number of favors and help they’ve provided my husband and I, is beyond anything I could ever imagine for us in any time of need. Was I being introduced this way as some subtle form of protection? Is the term “husband” one that is uncomfortable for them in uncharted social territory? I still don’t have the answer to those questions, and they’ve haunted my curiosity ever since.
Sorry for the lack of posts the last couple weeks. S and I are in the middle of having the entire bottom half of our condo remodeled, and things have been crazy busy. I just wanted to take a moment and say HAPPY HOLIDAYS to all of you, and thanks again for reading Gays in the Life.
Here’s a pic of our pup Reynold. He’s now 6 months old, and wants to wish you a happy holiday as well.
We will return after the new year, and hope you all have a very safe, and fun holiday 🙂
Three years ago, this evening, our relationship presented itself as something new. It was New Years Eve in my cozy, cheer-filled apartment. I had one of my best friends in town – visiting from Los Angeles – amazing roommates, a great chunk of friends I had made working at the Goodwill Store, and him. I was so happy S had come down from Indy to celebrate the holiday with us. At the time, we’d only officially been boyfriends for a little over two months, and were an hour apart during the work week. About thirty minutes or so before midnight, we found ourselves alone in my bedroom. “…I’m scared” I express as I look past him nervously and prop myself up on my elbow. Lying next to me, he puts one hand behind his head, and the other around my arm. “Why?” He looks worried as he presents the single-worded question. I shift. “I think I love you.” The second it took him to respond felt like agonizingly long minutes passing on a clock. “I love you too” he grins looking directly into my eyes.
When is the right time to say “I love you” to a person of interest? Our exchange that night was not planned, and I honestly had not thought about the subject at all. We were still a very new couple, but there was something in the air that evening that made me want to share my feelings with him. Society programs young adults in so many ways when it comes to saying “I love you.” We absorb the lessons we learn – or think we’re learning – from relationships we’ve witnessed in the past, and think we have to apply them to our own relationships. Whether it’s too soon or long overdue to share those guarded words are up to the individual that possess the feelings. When I think back on that night, I recognize that the timing was right. Our relationship didn’t feel like work – I say that a lot, but it’s true – I was always excited to see him, always wondering how his day went, counting down the days until we were together again… the love was building before I even thought about saying it.