I have always thought that gaining weight is a very sad thing. However, once one reaches middle age, for a period of time, one indulges in all kinds of stress-relieving overeating and drinking every day, with a few ounces of white wine and a few bottles of beer. If this continues for a long time, coupled with frequent staying up late, the inevitable consequence is the increasing weight.
Recently, I weighed myself and found that my weight had also reached a record high. I felt like I was about to be sent to market. When I touched the flesh on my body, I felt that only my belly was getting bigger. I remember when I was at school, I could do dozens of pull-ups and push-ups with ease. 1,500 meters is also a piece of cake. But now with this weight, I can't even do five push-ups. My arms are weak. It's really too sad.
Lose weight! I don't want to be a fat person. (Starting from the NTH time).
I began to prepare all kinds of equipment. Fitness wristbands, skipping ropes, yoga MATS, fitness gloves, clothes and shoes... I began to pin my hopes on them. Old problems are indeed hard to change. Form always takes precedence over content. When doing anything, the outcome is secondary; the "posture" must be right.
Looking forward to good news in a few months. I hope I can hold on a little longer this time.
