It really came as no surprise. My belts had been shrinking for some time, my fuller cut shirts weren’t as loose as they were before and my “fat” suits were beginning to fit me again while my good suits were starting to get moved to the back half of the closet. The video I watched of myself having a sword fight with my son in the backyard should have been an eye-opener but it made me close my eyes instead. So I just sat there when the first thing the doctor, whom I had never met before, said to me was “What can I do for you other than tell you to lose that spare tire around your middle if you want to see your kids grow up someday ?”
I have to admit I have been somewhat overweight for most of my adult life. Even as a three sport high school athlete I never had washboard or six pack abs. College only added to the problem and then after college I discovered how cozy & comfortable the corner stool at your favorite bar can be. One night, the patrons in the bar all yelled “NORM !!!” when I walked in. I knew it was time to lose weight and time to find a new bar with new friends. That worked for a while but job depression and other factors contributed to my gradual decline again until I suddenly found myself dateless & living in Northern California. I ate right. I exercised. I lost weight. I moved back east. I kept most of it off. I moved to Texas and lost some of it again. I moved back to New York and started to gain a little of it back. Malaise & depression in general were looking into subleasing an extensive corner of my life. Then I met my wife. She’s full blooded Italian and her family believes in Sunday Dinner. I ate to impress and impress I did. I impressed my tailor who told me after 15 added pounds that he couldn’t let my suits out any further. I lost some of the weight again and then I got married. Normally that means you let your body go to hell because you finally tricked someone into saying yes but I actually maintained my weight right up until my wife got pregnant with out first child. I gained my sympathy pregnancy weight and then didn’t lose it. My wife got pregnant with our second child and again I gained sympathy pregnancy weight and again I didn’t lose it. A few years later our third child came along and well, you know the drill by now. I think it may be safe to say that somewhere out there today there is a woman who is pregnant and I am gaining sympathy weight for her too.
The time though, has finally arrived where I am going have to turn a cold shoulder to all those pregnant women of the world and all of the caloric goodies their images conjure up. It’s time to say goodbye to the muffin lady on the corner of 51st & Park who knows what I want and has it ready for me as soon as I walk up. It’s time to lock the bottom desk drawer in my office, the one that has boxes of girl scout cookies stashed away in it. It’s time to get serious about myself and my health. It’s time to get serious about my weight. It’s time to take the first steps to reclaiming my life and my body.
I know it won’t be pretty and I know it won’t be fun. I also know that I am going to share the misery along the way with all of you. It won’t be cute and it won’t be inspirational but I will try and keep it as light hearted as this cantankerous old sugar deprived wordsmith can make it.
So come back next time when I give you excuses for why I haven’t started the diet yet.