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 . . . .