This was perfectly fine with me because, unlike my other surprise drop in visitor, aka The Devil, The Other Melissa is quite easy on the eyes and never drinks my last Snapple.
She did, however, drink the last of the rum.
But that’s perfectly fine because I bought the bottle a few years ago specifically for when she visited. It just took much longer to finish than expected because we didn’t see each other for three years.
Anyhow, we were sitting at the dining room table, catching up on our lives and our rum quota. I was spilling my guts about Sweet Irish Melissa, and my guest was giving me her very definitive opinion on that relationship.
Some things just don’t change, even after a three year break.
At some point in the conversation, The Other Melissa turns to me ans says, “You packed on some pounds since Melissa left. Have you been hitting the ice cream and chocolate to help deal with your pain?”
Okay, so even though I know I’ve put on weight and need to get back into shape, I never want to hear someone tell me I’m a big fat fatty. That’s just not good for morale, the psyche, or my self-confidence.
Of course, she was completely right. I have added some cushion since the Sweet Irish Girl decided to remain on her side of the ocean, but it sucked to know it was so obvious.
And then I realized that The Other Melissa hadn’t been around in three years. Back then, I was dating Rachel, and I’d lost 50 lbs because she looked like a super model and dragged me to the gym all the time.
So I was obviously a lot larger than she remembered me being, and I hadn’t just plumped up over the last three months since my life fell apart.
Regardless, The Other Melissa had made her point, and I was up well before sunrise for my morning run.
As you can see from the above photo, the streetlights were still on when I returned to The House on the Hill. I was a sweaty mess, and had pushed myself to my fastest three miles, on my sixth run since I started up again last week.
There’s still a lot of work to be done, and I’m dealing with some very sore legs tonight, but my good friend’s words have been playing in my head all day.
Motivation. Exactly what I needed.
Now that I think about it, that wasn’t the only inspirational statement to come out of last night’s rum happy visit.
She also made a comment about how I always seem to have a significant other who is much younger and way too attractive for me.
What makes the fat guy run? Apparently the answer for this fat guy is not what I thought it would be…
Especially ones named Melissa. They inspire me in different ways, but the result it the same. Run, fat guy, run! I definitely need it!
You should follow my blog. Follow me on Pinterest, too!