There Is No Bad Reason to Get Healthy

When I began my health transformation at 45, I had two motivations.

#1: I don’t want to suffer if I don’t have to.

And I don’t want to put my family through any pain if I can avoid it.

I was headed down a road towards heart disease, diabetes, cancer, and God knows what else.

I was looking at a long, slow, ugly decline.

But maybe “primary” is the wrong word.

Let’s call it “conscious” instead.

Because there was always vanity beneath the surface.

What You’re Afraid to Say Out Loud

My immediate focus was on health.

But in the back of my head, I also wanted to look better.

When I put on weight, it goes straight to two places: my belly, and my face.

This was me in 2022 at age 44 compared to 2025 at 47:

Ignore the sweat and the lighting and the hair. Just look at my face shape.

I looked 10 years younger at age 47.

And this is just a face shot. I do not look like a big, strong guy when I’m heavier.

I just look soft and bloated because I don’t have a big frame.

The Confidence Boost

And it puts a pep in my step.

That means more confidence for everyday life.

I also like running into people and hearing “oh my God, you look great now!”

Some people are offended by stuff like that.

They hear “so you used to think I was fat?”

Me… I don’t give a shit.

Give me all the compliments you can.

I’ll say “thank you!” with a big smile on my face.

The Silver Fox Angle

My hair is going gray fast.

I figure I’ve got one or two more years of brown hair left in me, tops.

And I want to be a hot older guy.

I doubt I’ll ever want to dye my hair, so I want to be a hot silver fox.

I want people to say “you’re in amazing shape”

Whether they add “for your age” to the end, I don’t care.

Yes, I Care What People Think of Me

I went through three stages of being overly self-conscious:

I used to insist that I didn’t care what people think of me.
I admitted it to myself, but was ashamed
I stopped fighting it and owned it

I care what people think of me, and I’m not afraid to admit it.

The funny thing is, the more I accept my self-consciousness, the less it affects me.

Maybe I rob it of my energy.

Whatever.

The point is…