Will: "I weighed myself today. I gained more weight!"
Ech: "I love you, but I really don't care."
Will: "We measured our arms and..."
Ech: "Now I really don't care."
[15 minutes and several topics later]
Will: "So like I was saying, we measured our arms..."
I can't escape it. I now have one of those husbands who wants to talk about the gym, his shake regimen, how much weight he has gained, what vitamins he's taking...blah, blah, blah. I like hearing how his gym time is going, but I really won't remember or care if he gained a pound or that he figured out that he needs to drink his pre-work out "X" amount of minutes before he leaves his room.
I'm not heartless or completely uninterested in something that clearly interests my husband.
I care if his right shoulder still hurts from the day it locked up and made him drop his weight.
I care that he's starting to gain confidence in his body.
I care that he's forgoing precious hours of sleep for a longer workout.
I care that he has spilled his shake on his PT shirt two days in a row and today he's shirtless to avoid another laundry run.
I care when he runs low on shake mix and I will immediately order a new carton.
I definitely like the endless giggles and laughter that comes along with my more confident man. Ever since I told him I noticed his gym time he has been throwing in random corny poses to show off his new muscles. If I ask him how his six pack is coming along, instead of answering, he'll move his iPad to the desk and whip off his shirt to show me. [Normally I'd have a picture here, but he's too shy to let me post his abs. But trust me, he's looking good!]