Dad Bod (Under Construction 1)

“I can do it. It's just … it's a lot to take on all at once, ya know.”

“Because you’re individualizing each hurdle in front of you rather than keeping focus on your overall health. Simplify. Our goal is for you to lose sixty pounds. We know the end game and the necessary steps to get there. Once you adapt to the routine and everything becomes habit, everything else falls into place. And I think you'll be surprised at how fast the weight will fall off if you follow the training and your diet.”

By the time we finish the cool down, Jordan has schooled me on the importance of macros and calorie counting. My fuckin’ head is spinning with all the information.

“So we covered a lot today. Cardio and diet. Tomorrow is core day, so make sure you soak in an Epsom salt bath tonight, get plenty of sleep, and eat healthy! You’re gonna need your energy for tomorrow.”

Today was brutal, and I know tomorrow is gonna prove to be more difficult.

“Thanks, Jordan. I guess I'd better hit the grocery store because my fridge has beers, Cocoa Puffs, and pizza that's lifespan is questionable.

“Toss it.”

“The pizza?”

“Everything. But uhm, why do you still have the pizza?”

“Because Belle wants to prank Carter and Mav, and who am I to deny my darlin’ princess an opportunity to trick those assholes?”

“Madden, that could make them sick!”

“Noooooo.”

“Go home, clean out your fridge and pantry, then go to the grocery store and buy everything on your meal prep list for the week. Don’t make me come do it, because I will. That’s how serious I am about improving your health.”

“Hey, pretty lady. Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I waggle my brows at her playfully, which earns me a mock eyeroll and blushed cheeks.

“Stooopppp!”

“I’m serious. I hate cleaning and grocery shopping, so having a hot babe do it for me, in spandex … well, that’s every man’s—”

“I swear my hand to God, may he strike you dead, your ass will run five miles tomorrow if you finish that sentence,” she scolds, her hand palm up like she’s testifying to God himself. Hell, she may be. Is that lightnin’ in the distance?

“I kid. Your bitch camp is hard enough without any added mileage, so I’ll walk the line.” I wink at her.

She rolls her eyes again, leading me to the lobby. “Alright, Johnny, you walk the line right on to Publix. I’ll see you tomorrow, same time, same place.”

*~*

“Cupcakes!!!” Belle shrills as she charges down the aisle toward the cupcake display. I keep one eye on her while glancing at the shelf intermittently in search of quinoa.

“Look what I got, Daddy! They have rainbow frosting! My favorite!” she praises, a half dozen cupcakes cradled under each arm.

“Sorry, princess, but no sugar.”

She quirks her brow and cautiously places each container in the buggy, careful not to tip the carton sideways so the frosting doesn’t smudge. “This ain’t sugar, Daddy. It’s cupcakes! Our favorite.” She places her hands on her hips and taps her toe against the floor. Our diets are about to make a drastic change, and Belle ain’t gonna like it.

“Sorry, kiddo. We’ll find a healthy snack, but we can’t have cupcakes. Not until Daddy loses some weight.” I place the cupcakes on the shelf, the scent of chocolate and buttercream frosting teasing my senses.

“Says who!” she demands, her brows furrowed and her little hands balled into fists at her hips.

“Jordan, my fitness trainer. You want Daddy to be able to chase you in the backyard and place with you at the beach, right?” She nods. “Then Daddy has to lose weight. And in order to lose weight, I have

to eat healthier.”

“So I can still have cupcakes?” She grabs the container from the shelf and holds it protectively to her chest.

“We’re doing this together, Belle. I want you to be healthy too.”