Where are all the fat people?

I took the day off from work. It was going to be a sort of mental health day for me, and catching up on chores. That idea ended quickly when my husband called as he was on his way to work and said his sister had texted him that their dad's blood pressure was less than 60/40 and the machine couldn't even read it. This is one of the signs that death is near.

My husband rushed home, we made a conference call to the hospice and his dad is doing "okay", and could hang on for days or weeks. He was asking for his Coke so they took that as a sign he's got a little life left in him. Plus he's still flirting with the young nurse, Ashley. She looks a lot like my mother-in-law did when she was young, absolutely gorgeous (they're divorced). Ashely calls my father-in-law her Romeo. He always wants a  hug and kiss from her. Guess he's not dead yet.

The hospice urged us to make arrangements for cremation, which we were suppose to do Monday, but my husband is really having a hard time dealing with everything. I called a few cremation services in Denver and made the arrangements. My husband headed back to work at noon.

I'm not close to my father-in-law, but watching my husband being torn apart over this is hard. In addition, he just started a new job two months ago so he can't really take time off and sit by his dad's bedside waiting for him to die.

So I bet you're wondering about the title of this post, "Where are all the fat people?". Well, I just back from the gym. I realized today why I hate my gym so much. I am the fattest and oldest person there, by at least 80 pounds and at least 20+ years. Everyone is height, weight proportionate, muscled or toned and they all appear to be under 30. I can't figure our what happened to all the fat, out-of-shape people that went to my old Ballys before they closed. I miss them!

My favorite thing at the gym, lifting free weights, isn't very fun anymore. First of all the free weight area is really tiny at L.A. Fitness compared to my old Ballys (it had three weight rooms). Then there are always young, twenty-something guys lifting extremely heavy free weights or cute young girls lifting five and ten-pound weights.

I know I need to get over this, and I belong there as much as they do, but I feel awkward and out of place. I never felt like this at Ballys. It's not going to stop me, and I'll keep going. I really don't have any other choice. I'm not disciplined enough to work out on my own at home, and it's the only gym in the area. Guess I'll just have to deal with being the fattest and the oldest person at the gym.


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