Another whack at growing up.

Tuesday at my annual physical exam, Dr. Dunham said that I am “the healthiest person he has examined in a long, long time.”  He also said he really means that.  Yeah!  I’m healthy!  Fat, but healthy.  I’ve gained twelve pounds in the last two months.  We all know why, do we not?

Dr. Dunham is my doctor.  The one who is keeping me on the path to health and fitness so that I might live to see my hundredth birthday.  (He’s predicting ninety -five, but I’m shooting for the big prize.)  So far so good. 

He has been my doctor for just two and a half years and I have yet to share my blog with him so he doesn’t’ know exactly how my eating habits go.  He started to talk to me about portion sizes and I held up “the hand” to stop him.  “Dr. Dunham, I have no problem with portion sizes.  I eat very healthful meals.  It’s the bags of peanut butter filled pretzels, cheese crunchies and the quarts of Haagen Daz that are the problem.”   “How do those things come into your house?” he asked.    “I buy them of course.  For the kids.”   “Well stop doing that,” he said, obviously not understanding how persuasive my brain can be while shopping at Trader Joe’s.

He advised that beginning today, I should weigh myself every morning first thing and keep a record of my weight.  Ah, huh.  I came home, took a very short nap, because Dr. Dunham says a ten -minute nap is better than the two-hour naps I’ve been taking.  Okay, fine.  Then I had my afternoon coffee, (Dr. Dunham says my coffee addiction is acceptable, good for me actually, helps my brain.  No kidding!  Without coffee, I have no brain!)  Then proceeded with my afternoon activity of refilling the bird feeders and looking at the feeding frenzy out of my window until time to watch the news.  Tom was off to Karate.

At about six thirty or seven I heated up some leftover chicken fajitas and grilled not one, but two whole wheat tortillas, and plopped back in my nest on the sofa.  I enjoyed every bite with a little sour cream and cheese.  Okay, sort of.  Then I wanted something sweet.  RED ALERT!  I remembered seeing some candied pecans in the refrigerator and helped myself to a fresh bag.  There were five servings in the bag, each at 190 calories.  I ate the whole bag.  They were simply irresistible! 

This brings me to the problem.  It is the first bite, not the last that gets me into trouble.  Just as it is the first drink that can precipitate a very bad drunk, once I take that firs bite of something I really like, if there is more to be had, I am going to have it!

Normal people, such as Dr. Dunham, seemingly don’t have this problem.  Even my husband, who is sort of normal, but not average, can have a handful of something he likes and then stop.  I say, “why?”  Why stop?  There is more fun, more delicious, more of heaven right here, right now!  Why not enjoy it?  (This is how I used to drink.)  Dr Dunham’s voice speaks to me in my brain, saying, “because it’s not good for you, you idiot!”  Oh, I say back.  But I like it!  (This is the child in me.  Apparently the healthy adult in me is taking a nap.)  I wonder what I have to do to wake her up? 

Gaining weight is not enough.  I can still squeeze into my skinny jeans if I lie down on the bed and hold my breath.  Sure, there is major spillage over the tops of my jeans that can no longer be camouflaged with a tunic, but that does not dissuade me.

I like being the healthiest person Dr. Dunham has examined in a very long time.  It is good to be number one at something and healthy is a worthy goal.  I just have had this love/hate tug of war with myself since I first heard the word “no!”  I do not like that word.

I know how to eat.  I am a decent cook.  I love fruits and vegetables.  I love fish, eggs, chicken and good foods of all kinds.  I am not a picky eater.  I think I like to play games with myself.  Hurtful games that can really have long lasting and damaging effects.  I need, no I want to find a new hobby.  I’ve tried knitting.  I grew bored after knitting three blankets and a few scarves.  I have a few unfinished projects still in the works in my closet.  I love writing, and I’ve brought out the paint- brushes and papers again.  I drew a nice picture on Sunday.  Still, these things take time to bring satisfaction.  A bag of something crunchy or a quart of something cold and sweet brings immediate bliss.  (Here the child is once again running me!)

I want to please Dr. Dunham, I really do.  I would like to be his favorite patient.  I was probably never my parent’s favorite child.  It just seems so sad to only buy the healthy stuff at the grocery store.  Who will I be to my grand kids?  (I’ve already been “the health-food nut to my own kids.)  I guess that’s up to them.

So, as per Dr. Dunham’s instructions, I got on the scale this morning and made note of my weight.  No change since yesterday.  Last night I examined a box of See’s dark chocolate and almond candy bars and surprisingly decided to go to sleep instead of starting something I could not, or would not, like to finish.  I’m still feeling a little sad.  I guess I’m grieving.  As Bob Segar once said in a song, “wish I didn’t know now, what I didn’t know then.”  Here’s to growing up!

My life is so glamorous!  It’s just not fair.  Lucky for me!!

 

 

Comments

[Billy Frolick]

What a great piece! (And then there was the story).

[Marcia Peterson]

A great post. I'm with you the whole way because I sure do identify with that behavior. I admire your honesty.

[Lucia]

arrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhh. i'm sitting here eating a "skinny cow"ice cream sandwich. sounds harmless enough, doesn't it? until i get up 15 minutes from now and go get another. and then another in an hour. by the time i go to bed, i'll have polished off a HALF PACK. I totally related to this piece, heaven help me...(BTW: you're getting really good, Kathy. REALLY GOOD.)