My Shirts Don't Fit Anymore

I went to put on one of my favourite shirts today, one I have not worn in some time. It's an older style pullover shirt with leather threading rather than buttons. It's a brilliant white cotton, and on the back it has an embroidered design of two Celtic Lions rampant, in opposition, over top of a loose Celtic knot. The threading is the beautiful, silky Royal Blue, while the tongues of the lions are in red thread.

Unfortunately I can no longer fit into this shirt; I've grown too fat. The shirt is a Large and on a good day these days I might be an XL, but more likely a bit larger than that. Of course, as is common knowledge around me these days, all this extra weight is around my torso. My lower legs are getting quite skinny, as are my upper arms. My thighs are simply loose bags of atrophied muscle. Yet my torso expands, or at least it changes shape such that I have saggy boobs and a giant belly.

It would be so nice if I could go for a walk or do some aerobic exercise to change this weight distribution pattern. I would love to be able to swing an axe once again, or cast a fishing line for hours on end, standing in the river flow, as I once did. Hell, even riding a bicycle would be nice once in a while, something I haven't been able to do for five years now.

I've complained about this before. I will complain about it again. I know that if I want to lose weight I can reduce my caloric intake. But I can't exercise. I can't burn those calories I take in, nor those calories stored around my waistline. Also, I wonder if I reduce my calorie intake, what will my body consume? Some of it will be muscle, and since I cannot exercise there is no way for me to rebuild that loss.

Being fat is something I have gotten used to, though not happy about. The folks at the ALS clinic insist that the weight is helping me fight ALS. I believe them. But I don't have to like it.