The Weight of the Dogman

One in a series of posts on my struggles with maintaining a healthier weight, starting in early 2019 and working into the present day

247 in April 2019

Back in the first half of 2019, I was getting frustrated by my inability to lose more weight and so revisited my Dogman metaphor:

What I hate most about the Dogman, aside from his combination of dominance and weakness, is his weight. Today, I am 247 lbs. This means that I am, literally, carrying around an extra 52 lbs, which is not much less than the average weight of a fully grown Labrador Retriever. 

Think about that. Ever tried to pick up an adult Lab or some other big dog? Yeah, umph! Now try doing it day after day after day, every time you get up. How much harder is it to rise in the morning? How much harder is it to pick yourself when you’ve fallen? 

It makes life so much harder. So much heavier. If only I could get out from under the weight of the damned dog. When you think about like this, why does anyone get overweight? How can they even stand the thought of it? It’s like some Black Mirror nightmare. 

Yet, we do. We do. Because the Dogman exists in so many of us. He’s a monster, yes, but oh so attached to us, hard to resist with its girth and big, brown, pleading eyes that want so badly to stick around. So hard to resist even if we do need to pick it up day after day after day.

Featured photo from Labrador on Quantock; from Tiverton, UK

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Mark R. Vickers

I am a writer, analyst, futurist and researcher. I've spent most of my working life as an editor and manager for research organizations focusing on social, business, technology, HR and management trends. But, perhaps more to the point for this blog, I'm curious about the universe and the myriad, often mysterious relationships therein.

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