Don’t confuse the title of this post with Astronomy. That’s the study of heavenly bodies. This will be about the study of my body. It’s far from heavenly, but it has its own gravitation field, and can cause eclipses.
For the first half of my working career, eating and weight gain were no big deal. My office jobs were so sedentary that I didn’t require great numbers of calories. With two kids to raise, there wasn’t a lot of spare cash available for French fries, junk food or soft drinks, and the wife had not yet become the great cook that she would be a bit later in life. Although I did manage to go from a stick-thin kid of 135 pounds, to a solid, well-built man of 185, and stayed that way for years.
All that changed when I left the offices, parked my brain at the door, and went to work in the plants. Suddenly, the jobs were so physical that I needed and consumed 3000/3500 calories a day. The kids grew up, and there was enough cash for the occasional fast food treat, and the wife was described by her brother, a professional chef, as a better cook than him.
185 lbs. crept to 190, then 195, then to 200. I’m a good eater. The greeter at the grocery end of Wal-Mart says, “Welcome back Archon. It’s always nice to see you. Two more visits and I can retire to Florida.” The wife learns 5 new recipes, and I gain 5 new pounds. Now I’m 205 lbs., and I can see retirement looming, but not my toes. Changes have to be made!
The wife says that we’re getting older, and the chance of weak bones is increasing, so drink chocolate milk and eat cheese every day. I’m okay if I stay upstairs, in the computer room, but if I go downstairs in the evening, I’m wrestled to the ground by a toasted bagel – or some potato chips that were on sale – or cookies and hot chocolate. It’s always something.
I have lots of will power. What I need is some won’t power. The wife thinks I’m obsessive, because I weigh myself every day. Seven years into retirement, I’ve passed 210, and occasionally 215. 217! 218! The day I saw 220, I – not ‘panicked’ – but something has to be done. Something other than letting the white beard grow back in, and buying a Santa suit.
Yesterday, the scale read 209.8, but my blood pressure was 136/78. The diastolic is still low, but I need to do something about the systolic – like lose some more weight. I don’t want to be the guy in the Christmas song – round John Virgin. If I was the victim of a shooting, the chalk outline would be a circle.
Thanx for reading the whine I had with my cheese. I’ll see you around….as long as I’m not quite as round next time. 😳