Thursday, March 27, 2008

Days of Reckoning

Hooo-Boy, It sucks to get old. . . . .On Monday, I met with the Nutritionist that my primary care physician wanted me to see. A basically nice, petite little woman. She was legit because I saw her degree on the wall. Though I 'm sure she's good at what she does, I doubt she's ever really had a weight problem.She probably just gets off on dealing with fatties and feeling superior to us lesser folk. She laid it out for me. I showed her my food diary, she read about a weeks worth and said I was eating too much starch. She had plastic food laid out in plates on her desk- "salmon", "chicken", "vegetables" and "pasta" in appropriate portion sizes.We didn't start off too good, she made me get on the scale and I had gained three pounds since my checkup, less than a month ago. She gave me a 2 page hand out about what I can and cannot eat. I have to institute some kind of an exercise program-at least 45 minutes , 4 times a week. She asked me what I thought about all this and said I thought I should kill myself. She doesn't have a sense of humor.
When I quit smoking, I didn't want to . I don't want to change things, but I know I have to. I might as well choose while I still CAN choose. I'm trying to make that my mantra-"I will choose while it is still my choice to make". I've upped my vegetable intake. It's killing me ! I really don't enjoy eating all these vegetables.
Long story short, I have to chnage the way I live my life. I am not in crisis. If I make the appropriate changes now, I can save myself , and those who care about me, a fair amount of heartache further down the line. The spectre of diabetes and heart disease looms in the genetic distance. All I gotta do is put down the eclair . . . and waddle away . . . .


Blogger Dee-Rob said...

I'm with you in spirit and in the aging. If it makes you smile as you try to exercise more, think of me falling on my ass jogging in place at a circuit training class the other day. 30 years later, I'm still pretty sure I'd get picked near the end for teams in gym class.

My former crazy hard drinking, chain smoking brother (wait, he's still my brother but former on the vices) is planning on running the marathon this year, his first, possibly last. He was born in '61, maybe you'll have a similar midlife crisis. (I secretly hope not.)

Or maybe you could walk over to watch the race and call that exercise. That's what I'd do. Standing in Copley Square is hard.

Friday, March 28, 2008 1:58:00 AM  
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Monday, March 31, 2008 8:54:00 PM  

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