My 50th birthday is looming like the mother of all New Year’s resolutions. See, my doctor tells me I have “cholesterol.” Whatever. I figure my blood is 30% cheese, 8% bacon, 7% tasty animal fat, 5% crispy fried flour drippings and 50% other. I eat many healthy foods. I just prefer many non-healthy foods. (Cheese IS a food group in my world)
I know I need to take better care of my bod. It’s the only one I have, etc. Yes, the cholesterol is probably something I should take seriously. I tried a couple of the pharmaceutical options several years ago. As it turns out, I have all of the side effects. Not just with the cholesterol meds either. I have a propensity for every side effect, for every drug. I regularly take three Rx meds. That’s enough. They aren’t currently causing any side effects, and I don’t want to take any more meds.
I told my doc I would start paying attention to the cholesterol after my 50th birthday. I already know the meds won’t do it. So in my head, there’s baby “New Life”… glaring at me… “You’ll be 50 on Saturday… No more cheese… No more bacon… Your life as you know it today is O-V-E-R.” And I honestly don’t know which is worse: Living an unhealthy life or the guilt of living an unhealthy life.
I have an appointment to see my doc next week. I don’t want to go. I don’t want her to give me that look… The one that says, “You told me you would get serious…” I don’t do guilt well. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I want to do the right thing. But after five decades, I feel like an old dog. I don’t want to trade in my tasty Milk Bone for a carrot stick. I guess that’s where I always get stuck. Changing my diet doesn’t mean throwing everything out and starting over. No. It means being smart.
Ok. I’m gonna pull up my big-girl pants and stare 50 right in the eyes. I’ll eat less. I’ll consider exercise as something even I can, maybe, possibly, do. I will limit my cheese intake. I’ll drink less. But it’s not gonna happen overnight. It took me 50 years to get here. I guess it will take me a while to ease off my bad habits.
From Pizza to Politics 