So my son turned four months old the other day. And today was my first day back at the gym since he was born.

I’d like to type more but my arms just fell off. Give me a second.

…

Okay, I’m better now. (Hint: my arms didn’t actually fall off.)

I’ve spoken before about how my life has taken some hits due to the birth of my son. One of the major birth-related casualties has been my ability, energy and desire to go to the gym. I wake up too early and too tired to go in the AM, am too busy at work to go during lunch, steadfastly refuse to go after work and am too exhausted/busy/hungover-after-nursing-two-beers-and-watching-a-Tosh.0-marathon-the-night-before-while-my-baby-screams-in-the-background to go on the weekends.

But over the past few months, as I’ve watched my incredible wife bounce back to her pre-pregnancy weight, I’ve also watched the beer baby that is my gut get closer to term. These days it looks like I’m the pregnant one. And I don’t have the benefit of bleeding fat straight out of my breasts in order to feed my son.

Nope. No miracle cure for me (especially since HydroxyCut gave my brother heart palipitations). I have to work it off the old-fashioned way. And today was day one of Project Gut Abortion.

I’ll keep you posted on my progress. Because I have a blog and that’s what they’re for!

I can already tell you this: aside from being 100% Christian-guilt-free, the best thing about this abortion is the lack of picket signs and death threats.