Tag: exercise

Dad Brog (#158): I’m not ready for anything prefaced by “adult”

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I’m in the middle of one of those weekends where I’ve sparsely had any time for myself; even more so than usual.  The kids are still in this weird adjustment period of daylight savings as well as simply adapting to their general schedules, and this particular morning, they were up at 7 am, not long after I had gotten up to begin my day, and I was completely unprepared as far as having breakfast ready, but it didn’t matter that my kids were ready to begin their day.

Instead of a 60-90 minute quiet time reprieve in the middle of the day, this was a day in which there were two concurrent birthday parties happening at the same time, so mythical wife and I decided to divide and conquer and take each kid to a different party, in different parts of town.  I watched #2 plow through three slices of pizza, a ridiculously gargantuan slice of cake, and a bowl of dipping dots, all while playing a bunch of really shitty games at Chuck-E-Cheese where kids are lucky to get maybe 15 seconds of game time before the credits expire and I can’t imagine paying actual money for gaming time with such absurdly unfavorable math, and I felt fortunate to be on a timed party free-play.

Needless to say, with the kids down, instead of relaxing, I found myself playing catch-up on things that I didn’t get to do on a typical Saturday, which meant hopping on the treadmill to get some exercise, while simultaneously doing my daily Duolingo that I typically prefer to do early in the morning before everyone else is really up.  And then I decided to go run some errands while some stores were still open, all for the sake of not having to them during Sunday, when I would inevitably have to have a kid in tow while trying to do them, and by the time I’m sitting here it’s past ten, and I don’t feel like I have adequate time to really watch something from my endless list of crap that I want to watch, so I bring myself to sit here to write in my brog that nobody knows exists.

But hey, at least I got to go be on top of the drop of Vince Gilligan’s Pluribus, and watched the first two episodes on Friday night, and the show was as good as I would have hoped it would be, so that’s something remotely positive amidst feeling buried by life and looking out the metaphorical window of the world to see the United States completely at peace with itself forcibly starving its own citizens but this post wasn’t meant to be political as much as I just wanted to take that dig in lieu of making a dedicated post about how fucked America is.

However, getting to the point of this post, the biggest occurrence to happen over this weekend was undoubtedly the fact that #1 lost her first tooth, and I’m just not ready for this at all.  Because when it comes to teeth, most everyone knows that the vernacular for them are baby teeth, and when they fall out, they’re supplanted by your adult teeth, and I am so not fucking ready to hear the word “adult” at all, associated with my five-year old child.

It’s crazy, it was just like a few weeks ago in which #1 pointed out to mythical wife and I that she had a wiggly tooth, and we were both having the same reaction about how, wtf has all this time flown by to where our kid is now having her baby teeth starting to fall out.  A cursory internet search confirms that five is a fairly common age for the first teeth to begin falling out, and I have memories of my own childhood of when I had my first loose tooth, where my dad tied a piece of floss around it before yanking it out, and the vague memory of feeling like I’d been punched in the mouth, with a similar result of there being a lot of blood.

But as unfortunate as it was that I couldn’t be there when it happened, there wasn’t really much blood when #1’s first tooth came out.  I had literally just taken her to the dentist just says prior, and I saw the X-rays showing the adult teeth rapidly growing underneath and how to anticipate the first tooth to come out soon, and it was still a harrowing moment seeing those photographs of all these adult teeth starting to grow beneath the baby ones, and again I’m struggling to hear the word adult at all when it comes to my kid, because she’s still just five freaking years old.

Inevitably, like the Korean blood in her body demands, questions about the Tooth Fairy and the whole concept of getting money for teeth came up pretty immediately, and now I’ve got to start ponying up cash to put under her pillow and hope to not wake her along the way.  Plus there’s the whole question of just how much money to give for a tooth; when I was a kid, it was $2 a tooth, but my parents quashed the whole mythos of the Tooth Fairy real quick and just gave me cashmoney on the spot after an extraction.

It’s going to be a tricky next few years, given the fact that I have two kids of close age who will be inevitably be periodically dropping teef throughout the next 8-9 years, and me having to keep up with needing adequate cash to fund all these damn teef and keep up with inflation.

But heaven help me that there are anything at all in my little girls’ bodies that are considered adult, even if they’re pretty much right on schedule when it comes to the first teeth falling out.  They’re always going to be babies to me.

Unpopular opinion: weight dropping is weak

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I suppose it’s kind of an oxymoron that I preface this post with unpopular opinion; over the last few months of randomly commenting on public shit on social media, it’s safe to say that most of the opinions I have are typically unpopular and am routinely told by randos how stupid and how much of a loser I am for having them which in a way is not a bad thing because it makes me think twice about engaging anything on the internet and saving my opinions for my own personal brog where I will never have anyone telling me that I’m wrong.

But anyway, I’m at the gym, more specifically I’m in the locker room changing out to get ready to head back up to the office.  And then I hear a thud; right past the walls to the men’s locker room is the little alcove of the gym where the dumbbells are situated, and there are 1-2 benches for people to do some dumbbell lifts.  Usually once, sometimes twice in a work week, I utilize these dumbbells, especially since my gym has no barbells or any free weights that would be useful to really do some swole seshes.

A few minutes later, another thud, of weights being dropped onto the ground, after what was probably a grueling, failure-inducing set of god-knows-what to push a man to the limits to where he feels the only logical option is to abandon ship and drop their weights to the ground, completely unconcerned about floor damage, or any collateral damage of rolling or bouncing weights.  Granted, the heaviest weights available at my gym are two 50s, but considering the majority of the people in my building, it’s still sufficient if you know what you’re doing inside of a gym.

I’m in the shower, and then there’s an even louder thud, and I’m beginning to think that whomever is using the dumbbells is increasing weight in between sets and slamming heavier and heavier weights based on the sheer magnitude of the thuds.

While I’m getting dressed comes one last thud, that kind of shakes the ground, and one of those impacts that you can feel in your bones.  There’s some extra clatter, and then the sound of the weights clearly having rolled or bounced into the drywall on the other side of the wall I’m standing in front of and I’m finally thinking to myself, what the fuck, dropping weights is fucking stupid, and a sign of weakness, because anyone with any modicum of strength and control would probably be able to workout without hitting such catastrophic failure points to where they have to start slamming their weights on the ground like when Hogan slammed Andre the Giant at Wrestlemania III.

Yes, I know all about hitting failure and the importance of it in order to achieve certain levels of growth, but I actually know the guy in question who was dropping the weights like he were in a Rocky training montage.  He’s definitely not a bodybuilder, and is probably like 155-160 lbs., tops.  I know he’s into crossfit, considering the crossfit shirts I’ve seen him wearing, and it’s evident where he picked up the habit of dropping weights.  Which is fine, when you’re at the crossfit gym, and all of the crossfit clowns are flinging and dropping and slamming their weights all over the place, but not while at the minimally loaded work office gym.

Not only are there already holes and dents in the drywall from gee I wonder wear, the floors are minimally padded with an appropriate floor covering, but the fact that the floors are hollow sounding, I don’t imagine 80, 90 or 100 lbs of weight being slammed onto the ground is great for the long-term.  This isn’t a crossfit gym, and it’s barely a real gym in general.  It’s a repurposed section of an office building that had some basic gym equipment placed into it, that’s convenient for casual and/or knowledgeable exercise enthusiasts to come and get some work in, not for crossfit clowns to come in and fling shit around and lift weights with shitty form.

The bottom line is that, I think weight dropping is stupid, weight dropping is potentially harmful, and weight dropping is just weak, in general.  Fewer things seem a better indicator of strength and ability to harness that strength than being able to control not just the press of weight, but also the return of it, and I frankly don’t want to hear any nonsensical bullshit about how I’m not hitting failure and hampering my own gains.  I workout in order to maintain good health, not train for the next fucking Olympics, I’m not trying to break floors and walls and make tremors when doing so.

What’s worse: leaving dog poop or leaving dog poop in a bag?

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

These are the thoughts that go through my head when I go out for runs.  Because despite the snooty upscale environment my general area pretends like it is, there’s still a lot of white trash behavior underneath the thin skin of it all.  Like people who leave their dog poop, in bags, on the side of walking trails and sidewalks that inevitably never get picked up.  Which got me wondering, the title of this post, what people think is worse between leaving your dog’s poop behind out in the open, or taking the time to pick it up, bag it and then, leaving it behind. 

Saying you’ll come back for it later and most likely not, irrelevant to the query at hand.

And this isn’t even something that’s solely based on a single day’s exploration of the outdoors.  Whenever I’ve hit the Silver Comet Trail, I see bags of poop all over the sides of the trail.  Taking my kids on nature walks and mini-hikes, same deal.  It’s just disheartening to have seen such bullshit behavior now having crept into my own community, where I do my outdoor runs.

This is a case where no answer is right, and no answer is wrong.  Anyone who does absolutely anything other than picking up your dog’s poop, and relocating it into an appropriate receptacle, is frankly a piece of shit and if I were the lord and ruler of the world, this would probably be a three strikes and then the death penalty kind of thing.

Like, people who leave the dog poop are absolute cocksuckers in the sense that the act of them letting their dog poop on someone else’s yard or a public place, and then not picking it up and walking off is a combination of shithead behaviors – negligence, inconsideration, laziness and just plain being a shithead.  Few things get me fired up than finding an errant turd in my yard, because some asshole in my neighborhood was being an asshole, and short of setting up a camera to surveil my yard at all times, I have no idea who it is, no matter how much I want to return the turds to properties of the owners of the dog(s) who left them.

But I actually think people who bag up their dog’s poop but then leave the bags behind, are worse.  Because when they do what they do, they’re not only demonstrating all of the aforementioned shithead behaviors, they’re also adding deceit, lying, delusion and just plain being wrong, in thinking what they’re doing is somehow better than just leaving their dog’s poop out and open.  All topped off with the fact that these cocksuckers+ are making conscientious decisions to bag the poop and then leave the bags behind, where as those who don’t might sometimes actually be able to play negligence because most people who walk their dogs are also phone-addled zombies and may not have noticed a poop, but that’s a different gripe for a different time.

Let’s not even bother deliberating on the whole “I’ll come back for it later” bullshit – I don’t think anyone would believe a single person who claimed that they would come back for them later on the return leg of their walk, and even if there were paragons out there that did such, the world is so full of cocksuckers who don’t that shouldn’t be worth the fact that people are just going to assume you’re a cocksucking liar when you start bagging up your dog’s poop and leave the bag behind, regardless of your intention to, get it later.

At least when a dog turd is left out in the wild, it can and will inevitably break down, decompose, be food for some bugs, and be somewhat of a benefit to nature.  But if it’s left in a bag, maybe the bag itself might be biodegradable, maybe it isn’t, but the point is, the contents of that bag aren’t getting returned to nature any time soon, but the general stinkiness, grossness, and symbolic an asshole left this here message, remain as long as it takes for some superior Samaritan to take the bullet and clean it up.

What it all really boils down to is the fact that if people don’t want to do all the responsibilities that come with dog ownership, they simply shouldn’t have them in the first place.  If I were a dog, and even if my owner gave me steak and chicken tenders, played with me regularly, lavished me with fresh tennis balls, clean beds and all sorts of love and attention, there’d still be a ceiling to how much I could reciprocate my love if I knew that they themselves were still cocksuckers enough to be leaving my poop behind, and worse if it were still bagged up.

So frankly, I think it’s worse to be the assholes who bag the pool and leave it behind, versus those who don’t.  But make no mistake, anyone who does either, if it were up to me, I’d implement the death penalty for all y’all motherfuckers.  It’s not hard at all to bag up a turd to where the smell is minimal, and not so uncomfortable that it can’t be held until proper disposal.

Would you narc on a cop?

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Context: when I go running, I run through the parking lot of a closed-down drugstore as my turn around point; over the last year or so, I have noticed that a police vehicle parks their car under the awning of the drive-thru.  This was not an isolated incident, and given the fact that I’m fairly schedule oriented, I have seen this cop parked out here at roughly the same time ranges, and I would go so far as to say that it’s north of a 50% chance that I’ll see the car whenever I go for a run.  And like I said “year,” this has been the case for the better part of the span of the last year.

One time, I saw the office sitting with his door open trimming a cigar, so it’s clear that the cop isn’t just hiding out to kill time or take a breather, but to be giving himself a little daily vacation on company time, fairly regularly.  The fact that I’ve run past numerous butts and remnants of cigars in the lot indicates that this probably happens more than he wants people to be aware of.

Now before I continue, I don’t know definitively that it is the same officer that’s doing this on the regular, but I do definitively know that it’s the same vehicle I’m seeing every single time.  I’m not in law enforcement so I don’t know if every officer has their own vehicle, or if they have to share with others, but if it is the former, then it leads to believe that it’s the same cop who’s loafing on company time on the regular.

Anyway, on this particular morning where I’ve decided to finally pose this question, I had the opportunity to get out and run early, and I decided to capitalize, because fewer things bring me joy like getting to knock out certain self-imposed daily tasks like Duolingo and exercise, so I was out of the house and running by like 9 am, before I would log into work on my weekly remote day.

Typically, whenever I see the lazy cop car, it’s at around 12-1 pm, when I’m either taking a lunch break when I’m working remotely, or the kids are in their rooms for quiet time, and I have the opportunity to get out and run.  And like I mentioned earlier, the rate in which I see the cop car when I run is pretty high, and frankly I’m at the point where I’m more surprised when I don’t see them.

However on this morning when I’m approaching my turning point at around 9:15-ish, the thought crossed my mind on whether or not I’d see the lazy cop car, seeing as how it’s nearly three hours earlier than I normally run.  But sure as the sun rises, there was the cop car, same five-digit vehicle number on the rear hatch as I’ve grown to recognize.  Door was ajar, legs sticking out of the driver’s seat, human being very much present and alive.

And this is where I began to ponder, if this guy is here at 9:15 am and often seen at 12-1 pm, is this cop just parking here and hanging out for his entire shift?  Is he coming and going at intermittent intervals?  Did I just happen to catch him completely coincidentally at an odd time?  Is this cop really that much of a lazy pig, completely complacent by the sheer lack of job accountability?

Which brings us back to the original query of this entire post – would you narc on a cop?

Full disclosure, I don’t hate the police.  I know I identify more as leaning liberally, but I don’t hate the police.  A few bad cops don’t paint the whole picture of the entire occupation of law enforcement, and sure I think that there are some places in the country where the police have too much funding and it could be scale back some, but by and large, I support law enforcement, and want to give benefit of the doubt that most cops are good cops.

But like I said, I’m writing all this after nearly a year’s worth of observations of what appears to be a singular cop taking way too many liberties with his job, and I’m curious to know on whether you, my non-existent reader, would narc on them or not.

And by narc, I’m thinking of taking pictures and putting up on social media and tagging the agency in which the officer works for, and pointing the finger, because most everyone probably knows that cops do have a culture or protecting each other, and I don’t imagine a phone call to a precinct would result in anything more than a good laugh from those on the inside, as well as a marking on the source, as, an enemy to law enforcement, for daring to take action against a cop.

Not like putting them on blast on social media wouldn’t result in the same risk of retaliation, but at least the intel would be made immediately public, and put the officer in question as well as the agency they work for in self-defense mode first, and muddy up the waters on how they’d be able to retaliate without there being any scrutiny.

And it sucks that this is where we the people are with law enforcement, where it definitively feels like engaging in a manner that is accusing the police would result in some form of retaliation, because I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that law enforcement has the resources necessary to trace an image, a post or a be able to scrape metadata better than most armchair sleuths and pretty efficiently be able to identify those who act against them regardless of how warranted it might be.

But anyway, no matter how much it irks me to see a sworn officer of the law behaving in a manner that’s anything but a respectable police officer, I’m not doing anything.  I try to operate my general life as low-key and devoid of any legal scrutiny as possible, and I’d rather there not be a note next to my identification that I’m some opponent to the police that deserves the book at the slightest infraction should there ever be a time, and I don’t want to increase the risk of that ever happening.

That’s just me though; would you?

The eternal struggle of making the best of my time

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Earlier in the week, mythical wife sprung on me that her parents would take the girls for the holiday weekend, as she wanted to go on a road trip to visit friends out of state.  The thought of a 13+ hour road trip each way was about as appealing as doing yard work, but the difference is that the yard work would always need to be addressed so long story short, I opted to stay home, completely alone and have myself a staycation.

I don’t think it’s hard to imagine that this was not a bad thing at all in my head.

However, as is often the eternal struggle for me, is fear of letting such freedom squander and my mind is always racing at trying to make sure every meal and every hour is made to be as “worth it” as I can, before my life reverts back to stressed out anxiety dad mode, and I hope to have at least one notable accomplishment during my solitude.

At the very least I can say that I’ve had a very accomplished break, as I ran a great time for my Virtual Peachtree Road Race, getting back to a sub-60 minute 10K (57:52) and I got to do it on the Silver Comet Trail, which is pretty much my favorite place to run.

Furthermore, I did tackle the aforementioned hard work, cutting the grass in not just my front and back yards, but as well as the field adjacent to my home that I’m responsible for and was hoping my now-former landscapers would tackle for my for a flat cost but clearly didn’t like the idea and has since ghosted both me and my neighbors who used them.

Needless to say, I think I actually pushed myself physically to oblivion; I mean I made the conscious decision to do yard work after running a 10K like a fucking idiot, but I thought I could handle it as long as I stayed hydrated and took some breaks.  But by the time I was done with the lawn, my body was exhausted, I had sweat buckets, twice now, and I was at the point where just about every bodily movement was resulting in Charley horse-like cramps in places I didn’t even know could cramp, like my toes and obliques.

However, I probably accomplished more in a single morning than lots of people would have done throughout a long weekend.  That’s just how I roll, where I want to accomplish all my shit as soon as humanly possible, so that I can then loaf and do more self-gratifying things for the rest of the weekend; even if it put me in some legit bodily pain.

But then becomes the real challenge, of not squandering the time I have.  After a nap, which is a rarity in my world in itself, I wanted to make sure the meals I ate were quality and whatever television or movies I watched were good.  The clock of my staycation was ticking, and the anxiousness to make the most of it was already creeping in.

At one point I felt myself getting extra antsy because I felt I was starting to squander my solo time, and I was paralyzed by indecision on feeling like I needed to do something but what, but then I began to ask myself of what was so good about going out and eating out if there was no real motivation beyond not wanting to waste the time. At some point, forcing outings becomes the waste of time and worse off, a waste of money if I’m doing it for the sake of going out.

Places these days don’t want people loitering around anymore. America in general doesn’t want to make places where people hang out and meander anymore. I racked my brain to think of places where I could nurse a cup of coffee or take my raptop and write or something, but aside from the few Starbucks that are always slammed, nothing came to mind and I realized that going out just isn’t always worth it.

This time last year, I made a post about how if I had a gun to my head and was told to relax, I’d probably be toast, and although the same applies to the present, I think I’m doing better than last.  On top of the shit I’ve already been productive with, I’ve had some good meals, explored some restaurants and watched a lot of television; some good, others regrettable, but I’ll probably post about the latter since I have some feelings about it, and I still have the time to do so.

Maybe I’ll go to the pool. That’s something I haven’t done in eons, at least not without having to keep watch on two little humans to not drown or hurt themselves.

Imagine if your work bonus were based on how much you ran

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

BI: Chinese paper company bases annual bonuses on running milestones

Apparently this is a story back from winter 2023 that came across my radar recently, but it doesn’t matter.  My knee-jerk reaction was that this was something I would probably dominate pretty easily, and I could become rich on bonuses, but after reading through the article a little more thoroughly, I come out this with more mixed feelings.

The TL;DR is that in order for the employees of this paper company to get the maximum bonus of 130% of their annual salary, they basically have to run about two miles a day.  Extrapolated to a month, that’s 62 miles, which means in a year, they’re at around 744 miles. 

I have confidence that I could tackle two miles a day, since I basically did that when I was at my probably physical fitness peak, and was running around 3-3.5 miles a day five days a week.  I don’t run nearly as much as I used to, but when I do, it’s more than two miles, and I think if I set a goal of two miles daily, I could probably do it, but then there’s something about obligating myself to such a thing because there’s an incentive at the end of a very long annual road, that makes me feel like I’d probably get sick of it eventually, and really begin to resent running more than I already do at times, because it’s no longer about my health, but it’s also in order to gain a measure of financial benefit.

And as much as I came into this post full of confidence and cockiness that I’d absolutely slay it, the reality is that 744 miles a year is really quite lofty.  I’m pretty sure it was only at my peak did I ever come close to hitting that mark in a single calendar year, and this also leaves very little margin of error for sicknesses, emergencies, the general business of life at times, and if you miss a day or three, then the backlog becomes daunting, and then everything falls apart in the end.

There are secondary and third-tier bonuses, but they’re not nearly as lucrative as nailing the primary bonus, and I have to imagine nothing would be more demoralizing if any of these Chinese guys finished out their year with like 735 miles logged, and fell short of the big bonus on account of a vacation, injury, or some other variable that the whole challenge doesn’t leave much room for, Chinese work ethic not withstanding

Yeah, I think I could probably do it, maybe once, but then be all sour and not wanting to do it again another year, because it would have killed my general sense of importance of running.  But the thing is, this isn’t something that I would have to do, because at my current, American job, I already get an annual bonus that maybe wasn’t exactly 130% of my monthly intake, but it was close, and I got it simply for, doing my job.

I didn’t have to run 62 miles a month and 744 miles a year in order to gain it, and frankly I think that’s the whole point of a bonus is to reward those who do the grind with a little bit of coin at a set time of year, to where people could feel like they have some discretionary income for once.  Making employees have to do something they might not be open-minded to in the first place seems cruel and well, very Chinese, as far as expecting extra effort in order to receive incentive, as opposed to more American ideals of rewarding those who put in the work daily.

Digging deeper into this story, there’s all sorts of gray area as far as the requirements go; sure, the information is tracked presumably through fitness trackers and watches, but those things can be easily manipulated, especially in a cheating-friendly culture like China.  There’s also no clarification if walking is allowed, or if it specifically has to be running.  Unless there are specific running zones or treadmills in which the running has to occur, I have to imagine these employees are probably all cheating like motherfuckers in order to meet their mileage requirements and they’re all succeeding at meeting their marks.

I also love how the article’s choice of words make sure to point out that the boss of this company, as far as his own physical prowess:

My business can only endure if my employees are healthy,” said Lin, who claims to have scaled Mount Everest twice — once in 2022, and another time in 2023.

“Claims” as in even the writer of the article doesn’t believe his own physical capabilities and the slight shade implied that he is subjecting his employees to monetary hostage-held physical activity while not being held to the same standards himself, seeing as how he’s the owner of the company.

It’s funny that it’s a paper company that all this happening with, because it seems very much like a Chinese version of The Office kind of thing that Michael Scott would subject his team to incentive-based physical activities, all under the guise of, healthy employees are happier employees, not while realizing he’s making their lives miserable.

But on the flip side of things, the snark they’re getting from Weibo users, makes me understand why companies like this probably create initiatives as such:

You’d have to run two miles a day to meet the monthly target of 62 miles. So the company wants their staff to be track athletes?”

Say you’ve never run in your life without saying it – two miles a day in the grand spectrum of things isn’t really much.  If people still utilized step counters, they’d probably realize that most able-bodied people probably clear 3+ miles a day just with ordinary activities; again, not sure what the specific criteria is on the bonus challenge, but clearing two miles a day isn’t that difficult.  I’m basically living proof that two miles a day doesn’t make a person a track athlete.

These requirements would be considered excessive even for sporting school students. It will hurt their knees. Depending on one’s age and physical condition, it could also trigger acute heart failure,”

Disagree.  Two miles a day would be frankly pretty minimum for those focused on athletics.  I mean look at Manny Pacquiao, man probably ran upwards of 10 miles a day during his boxing peak, and that was in the tropical Philippines no less.  Sure, depending on age and physical condition there are risks, but in that case, don’t do it.  It’s for a bonus, and not for actual wages.  But I do think it’s funny how this user specifically zeroed in acute heart failure as the primary concern, and not exhaustion, dehydration, or any sort of tears or breaks, very typical Chinese worst-case scenario mentality there.

Either way, it’s not a perfect system, but at the same time, I don’t hate it.  If this, or any company offered a physical activity bonus on top of existing annual bonuses, I would definitely be all over it and be in it to win it, but if I also didn’t want to burn myself out, the secondary +30% your monthly wages for half the distance doesn’t seem so bad, and would be a sorely welcome bump in pay that I’d definitely be all about.

My daughters will extend my life by almost three years

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Okay: recent study suggests dads with daughters have tendency to live longer, with each daughter adding on average 74 weeks of lifespan

When this story was fed to me, I couldn’t help but smirk as I often do whenever I read anything related to girldads or being a girldad.  The notion that by virtue of them being daughters instead of sons, my two girls will be responsible for keeping my ass alive for 148 weeks longer than my life expectancy should suggest, nearly three entire years, is amusing to me.  Even more so, that it’s pointed out that sons, add no extra life to their dads, comparatively.

The thing is, the story could have ended with that, and kept it vague, yet still sweet, but in this day and age, where everyone is expected to show their work, when they dive a little deeper, it’s mostly attributed to the notion that when said girls become women, they’re way more apt to nag their dads about health and preventative care, which is the primary reason why they tend to live longer.

I mean it makes sense, since harping on their dad to go see doctors and get checkups and critical milestone tests probably is more useful in the long game versus daring dad to see how long they can go without farting, how fast they can go in the rental car, or can they take a spinning power bomb off the top of the couch.  But it does take some of the sticker sentimentality away from the general headline, but not enough to where I can’t make a brog post about it.

What’s interesting to me though, is that I wonder how much truth this will hold in my particular case.  A lot of the longevity is attributed to what seems like a bunch of out-of-shape dads who view their children as a sudden reason to get into better health and pick up better habits, which would naturally be beneficial to their life expectancy.

I’m no Zac Efron, but I’ve always been consistent and routinely with exercise, and mythical wife has already gotten a handle on egging me to go to the doctor at least for annuals, so the things that my daughters would’ve been expected to drive me to do in order to give me 148 weeks more of living, I’m already doing.  Of course, I want to be around when they graduate schools, maybe get married, or any other life’s milestones.  Maybe there’s another level of physical improvement to reach, probably when they’re not little brats who are sometimes shits about their food, and I end up eating a ton of shitty leftovers on account of not wanting to waste food.

Conversely, there’s always the easy joke about how my kids, regardless of their gender, are solely responsible for taking years off of my life on account of the sheer amounts of stress they put me through with their childish insubordination, stubbornness and constant power struggles.  Maybe that’s something that the study doesn’t account for is that daughters might each give me 74 weeks of extra life at the tail end of my life, but they’re sure as fuck siphoning a lot more of it on the front end.

Either way, let’s choose to ignore all the background noise of this study, and choose to believe that my two little girls are going to be the reason why I live three years longer than I really should be, solely by existing. ❤️