The Hardest Part? Looking in the Mirror.

This isn’t easy for me to write.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with my self-image. I was the kid who wore a T-shirt in the pool, the one who got teased in gym class, the one who laughed at the jokes, even when they stung.

I became the funny fat friend, the one who made self-deprecating comments before anyone else could. Because if I laughed first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much.

For years, I convinced myself that this was just who I was. That I’d always be the “husky guy” and that I had to make peace with it.

But the truth? I never really did.

For a deeper dive into my self neglect, Check Out

No Magic Pills. No Quick Fixes. Just a Decision.

One day, something shifted.

I got tired.

Tired of feeling like a stranger in my own skin.
Tired of hiding in baggy clothes.
Tired of sitting on the sidelines of my own damn life.

So, I made a decision: I was going to change.

Not for anyone else.
Not because of some Instagram influencer.
Not because I hated myself.

I was going to change because I loved myself enough to try.

I didn’t follow some fancy diet plan. I didn’t buy expensive workout programs. I didn’t have a personal trainer.

I just started making small, better choices, one at a time.

More movement. Smarter eating. Choosing consistency over perfection.

It was slow. It was frustrating. But for the first time, I was actually doing it.

If You’re Out There Trying—You’re a Damn Rockstar.

If you’ve ever been the bigger person at the gym, nervously asking how to use a machine…
If you’ve ever walked laps around the mall, pretending you weren’t out of breath…
If you’ve ever felt like people were staring while you pushed through anyway…

I see you. And I respect the fuck out of you.

There’s nothing braver than showing up for yourself, especially when it feels uncomfortable.

Whenever I see someone struggling but pushing through, I blast the song Eye of the Tiger in their honor. Because that’s the kind of energy we need to give each other.

To My People—The Ones Who Never Let Me Quit.

To the friends who texted, “Get your ass up, we’re working out.”
To the ones who yanked the pizza slice out of my hand.
To the people who reminded me why I started when I wanted to give up.

I love you.

I still have work to do, but damn, I’m proud of how far I’ve come.

To the 2% of You Who Actually Read This—You Are Unstoppable.

If you’re reading this, you’re already the kind of person who doesn’t quit.

You’re the kind of person who digs deep, who keeps going even when it’s hard.

So if you needed a sign, here it is:

Keep. Fucking. Going.

Jen Sincero said it best:
“There’s nothing as unstoppable as a freight train full of fuck-yeah.”

Let’s be that train.