I just thought my weight was normal, but according to some health metrics I've seen lately, a guy my height (my diver's license says I'm 5 '8', so I'll go with that, though some hair might have been involved in that measurement back in 2003), should weigh 155 pounds to be at peak health.
155 ponds! I'm going to have to give up something to attain "peak health", should it be the biscuits and gravy or the potato chips? (Did you know that "diet" is "die" with a "t"?)
I've always had a pretty high metabolism and combine that with being a fairly nervous (some would say 'twitchy") person, and I've never really had to worry about weight or my eating habbits too much.
What I am finding out is that you can be the same weight for a number of years and still change shape (my dad has a t-shirt that says "I'm in shape! Round is a shape!").
That's right. Things are heading south. That middle-aged-guy belly? Check!
This realization was brought home to me recently when a pair of my favorite jeans didn't quite cinch up as easily as they once did. It was right after the holidays, so I figured that I had gained a few pounds drinking gallons of eggnog (as much sugar in one glass as a candy bar), but when I consulted the family scale in the bathroom, it read exactly the same; 165.
So I did what any sensible American does. I went out to get a new pair of jeans.
As a writer and stay-at-home-dad, my uniform of choice and practicality is a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt (the uniform of my youth as well). I usually get one pair of jeans and one shirt each year, usually around tax return time.
This being that time of the year, I perused the racks for just the perfect style and pair. And then, looking at the price tags, I immediately headed to the discount racks in the back of the store.
There my eyes fell upon the perfect pair. Right size? (The right size being "one size bigger than the ones in my bureau") Check! Right price? Check! (How could you go wrong with a price that was one tenth the price of the neighbors in the next aisle?) Should I try them on?
Nah, all the info I need is right on the tag, and since I'm running late I'll just grab these guys and get out of here. What could go wrong?
Well, the next morning when I went to put them on I discovered what could go wrong. You know a pair of pants is going to be tight when you cant even get your foot through waist of the jeans.
As I stood in my bedroom, trying not to be seen by any other human being, I wondered what was going on. I checked the size again. Seems okay, but what are those tiny word under the measurements?
"Skinny fit!"
I looked like a cross between a tights-wearing extra in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing and James Dean (minus the glorious hair and that "I have to go to the bathroom" look on my face).
But what to do? I didn't think that I could face the embarrassment of returning the jeans and having to state "the reason I need to return these discount skinny jeans is that I look ridiculous in them." And come to think of it, perhaps the reason they were on the discount rack to begin with was that everybody else thought they were ridiculous too!
So I did what any other male worth his salt would do. I didn't admit my mistake and went about my day in tights and a flannel shirt. ("I'm sorry sweetheart, I can't help you tie your shoes today. Daddy can't bend over right now.")
If there is a benefit to skinny jeans, they do hide that paunch in the middle of your frame pretty well. I looked pretty svelte, even though I kept having fainting spells all day.
So, I think it's time to go do some sit ups and push ups and perhaps get rid of that ice cream in the freezer.
What's the best way to get rid of unwanted ice cream in your freezer you ask?
You should eat it.
155 pounds, here I come
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