Got "The Speech" from my doctor the other day about age, weight, blood pressure, exercise, and everything else in my life that isn't in conformity with the "Live Forever" agenda. As if adding another five or six years to my lifespan is worth giving up rye whiskey and ten cent ceegars.
Breakfast this morning was plain oatmeal with dried blueberries, almonds, and some honey. I washed it down with a cup of coffee. Yum freaking yum. Have I mentioned I don't care for sweet foods anymore?
I will begin a concerted effort to exercise this afternoon when I walk Boo through the zoo. I will try to fit a dedicated workout into my busy schedule somewhere between cotillions and teas with the Queen.
I've grown very fond of bacon, eggs, potatoes, and all the other things that make eating more than a means to gain nutrition. Now they will be something on the "Forbidden Pleasures" list. The only thing she didn't rule out was the occasional drink, so I'll be able to have a beer or bourbon every so often while I chew my cud.
This is going to well and truly suck.
8 comments:
Yeah it does, trust me... I 'broke down' this morning and actually had bacon and eggs and biscuits... Sigh... back to the rabbit food for the next week dammit!
Calmer Half's gotten the very emphatic version from our now-local doc, but instead of rabbit food, the doc says bacon (in moderation), eggs and cheese are good, rabbit food is great, but potatoes utterly off the menu, and carbs of the other sorts are restricted. So he couldn't have your oatmeal breakfast, but what he gains in sausage he loses by not getting crackers and cheese, or toast and jam with his tea.
Savory Oatmeal. I don't like mine sweet either, though I usually just do like the Scots and employ butter and salt.
Diet and exercise, diet and exercise! Watch what you eat, or you won't live to be a 110 year old bed ridden pain in the ass to everyone old man in an old folks home who wants a bourbon and branch water but who gets prune juice and cream of wheat, served up by a sweet young thing that tries to blow sunshine up your butt seven days out of seven, but who won't come close enough to you to get her fanny pinched. Doesn't that sound like a nice life?
But if you don't follow your diet, you won't have that. Instead, you'll fall over at 87 of a massive coronary at a bar somewhere, sipping your bourbon and enjoying the company of the men around you. You don't want that, do you?
It is now 2:53. I haven't had lunch yet, so I'm going down to the bar and have a drink and a sandwich. Maybe another drink to finish off.
Just because I'm perverse that way, the worst-case scenario isn't suddenly dropping dead seven years earlier than you would have otherwise. The worst-case scenario is being halfway to completely immobile with debilitating, deeply uncomfortable chronic problems for years you would have otherwise been on your feet and independent...
Having said, that, I have given up neither drink nor cigar, I just try to stay in sound enough shape to enjoy them for a long time.
I feel your pain. I saw the kidney diet my doc wants to put me on. No more than 10 french fries per week.
Eat right, exercise, die anyway. I'd rather die early, and happy.
The doc gave me "the talk" as well. I asked if we weren't all going to die one day anyway. He allowed as how that was true.
My response was something along the lines of "Well then, given my druthers, I'm going to die of a medium-rare steak and a cold beer, amid the company of friends."
We now have an "understanding".
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