My new toy

 

Over the course of the last two Covid/Cancerous years, my weight has fluctuated quite a bit. When Deb got her diagnosis, my appetite fell off the earth like advertising holding company profits. I just stopped eating. And smiling. And laughing. And enjoying much of anything.

I do remember spending more time lifting weights in the garage, pounding out grueling mileage on the very addictive Peloton and banging my fists on the steering wheel of my car in fits of anger, cursing the universe, and whoever or whatever was in charge, for visiting up on my family this nightmare of all nightmares.

There was one silver lining.

For the first time in many years I had dropped below the 200 lbs. mark. It's not a diet you often seen advertised on Late Night TV or any of the talk shows, but life-altering trauma is an excellent way to shed a few extra pounds.

Later as my wife's chemo treatments continued and we had some success with the radiation and my antidepressant pills kicked in, I began eating again. A lot of restaurant take out food sent to us by friends and family, via a remarkably generous meal train.

Suddenly I ballooned up to my highest weight ever, which for vanity purposes I will not share here.

Now, as a sole parent, and someone who would like to live long enough to witness my daughter's dreams, achievements and maybe even family, I've decided another change was in order. 

And so I bought a scale.

I never liked scales. I always found them inaccurate or lacking in any information other than my growing and disappointing numbers. It's also why I prefer wearing shorts as opposed to long pants. They're more forgiving in the waistline.

This new scale I bought is different and appeals to my love of technological gadgetry. It's wifi enabled. And with the bluetooth connected the scale relays my daily results, as well as my exercise stats, to a handy chart on my iPhone, that I find encouraging.

My BMI -- Body Mass Index -- is a little elevated and needs to come down. But check out the reading for my muscle mass.

I'm in the excellent range.

My new personal physician suggests I push myself away from the dining table a little more often with the qualifier...

"You're fat but fit."

"But I'm fit?" I countered.

"Yeah, but you're also fat."

Duly noted Doc, duly noted. See you in 6 months.