Genetics is indeed a force to be reckoned with and fighting against genetics is like running underwater: nearly impossible, and definitely a bitch. I should know this. I’ve been fighting this battle my whole life.

All genetic cursing aside, you really couldn’t ask for a better group of people to come from than my wonderful family. In all of their Southern deep-fried quirkiness, they are good people with hearts of gold. I am fortunate to be a member of this family.

Unfortunately, to focus once again on genetic curses, those hearts of gold are historically plagued with cardiovascular diseases of all sorts and the veins leading to those hearts of gold are lined with stroke-inducing plaque and cholesterol.

Sounds sexy, right?

But, wait. There’s more.

In addition to predispositions to heart disease and strokes, we as a family, also have issues with our weight. I don’t know exactly what happens to us, but as we get into what are supposed to be the best years of our lives, something inside us changes.

Looking back at old photos of my father when he was in his 20’s, he was a lean, mean machine but by the time he was my age, he was already severely overweight. Same goes for my two older brothers. When they were in their 20’s they were slim and trim. Pictures from their 30’s onward show that they suffered from the same curse as my father.

Now, here I sit at 34 years of age, staring the same goddamned thing in the face. I’m fighting against it with everything I’ve got but there are times when I feel I am going to collapse, both mentally and physically. This is one of those times.

I was a rail thin little kid. I ran and played ball and climbed trees and rode bikes and chased dogs and swam and any other number of things, normal, active, healthy little kids do. Then my teen years rolled around and I put on a bit of weight, probably due to the fact that I started drinking at a young age (also inherited from my family: an addictive personalty. Hooray!). Somewhere in my early 20’s, that weight just sort of went away. Really. I don’t know what happened or where it went, but it just sort of disappeared.

I didn’t exercise. I still drank beer like it was going out of style. I smoked like a freight train. My body just…changed. I was okay with that.

I was thin. I was certainly not overly muscular or cut by any means, but I was thin and I was happy about that…then.

When I turned 30, I think something inside me decided that this new chapter in my life was going to be marked by something great and I decided that I would follow a hard-core health routine which included eating small, healthy portions of food, and serious exercising - intense cardio plus weight training - every day.

Plus, I was determined that I was going to quit smoking, if it was the last thing I did. Certainly to combine all of this might have been a little compulsive but I’d indulged in so many other things that we’re the opposite of good for me that I figured none of this could possibly hurt.

To be continued, lest ye be bored to death…