Often, I eat only one meal a day, but that equals approximately 1860 calories and 103% of my daily recommended fat intake. If I snack on top of that? Well, let’s see … the bag of Cheetos brand cheese puffs right next to me has 560 calories, over half my daily sodium intake, and will add 45 points to my daily fat intake, bringing the total to 148%. (Right, as if I’m ever going to eat only one “serving” out of the bag.)
What’s interesting is that my friends and family say I’m looking healthier these days. Yet, coincidentally, I had a physical yesterday, and not only am I 12-17 lbs. over my personal target weight, my cholesterol level is stratospheric and the low:high ratio completely out of balance. Solutions? Quit smoking, stop eating so much restaurant food. My doctor? If I do those two things, he’s not going to worry about the numbers. My blood pressure is just fine, I’ve dropped 10-15 lbs. from the last time I tried to quit smoking, and my glucose is where it should be, and my triglycerides are dandy.
(This is more a post for me than anything else. You know, history, reflection, that sort of thing. Maybe I want one of those, Holy shit! moments in which I look back and wonder what the hell I was thinking. Like the whole weight thing; I’m the only person I know who cares how much I weigh, and everyone else wonders why it’s an issue. Of course, when you wake up one day in your mid-30s and find your belly bouncing for the first time as you walk down the stairs, it’s alarming. When you respond by resolving to take up jogging again, and literally can’t because of those pounds, it’s distressing.)
B.D.'s Last Refuge 