The starting point for today’s post is that everything is going well.
I managed to take my antibiotics without mishap (yes, although I haven’t written about it yet, I even had a problem with antibiotics on my return from hospital), am well-rested, and am looking forward to a breakfast of scrambled eggs. I’d bee looking forwards to a breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast even more, but one of the first casualties in my war on weight is toast. It’s always been a target, but it has to be eliminated ruthlessly. My previous successful attempts at weight loss have not been through fancy diets, just through simple stuff.
A couple of years ago I stopped having toast at breakfast and cut down to one sandwich at lunchtime. Even without exercise, I managed a small but steady weight loss. Part of my problem is that I used to have active days featuring a lot of walking and lifting and, as I became more managerial (as in chair and car-based) I carried on with the calories and reduced the burning. Same for leisure. I reduced the walking and increased the TV. But mentally, I didn’t make the shift.
Same when I gave up smoking. I felt my metabolism shift, but I didn’t alter my intake.
So, when you strip away all the Hollywood glamour, the miracle cures, the avocados and the steaks, you are left with the truth. If you want to lose weight you have to burn more calories than you eat.
And if you can’t walk far you are going to have to achieve the rebalancing by eating a lot less. That’s why targeting bread is always good – it also cuts out the cheese, the McDonalds and the snacks.
It’s a bleak picture of a spartan retirement, but after the last few days I’ve had to ask myself a few questions about how I want the rest of my life to be, and that starts with a very simple question – long or short? I can work on the details later.
Meanwhile, whilst hovering round Death’s garden gate recently (it’s the one where you enter and dawdle along Death’s garden path until you actually reach Death’s Door) I had to make an official decision for medical purposes. I went for resuscitation, partly because it’s a new spelling to learn, and partly because my bed was in the corridor outside the resuscitation room, which seemed like a sign. Or a hint.
And that, in my weakened state, is enough for now.
Pictures of salad are harder to find than pictures of fish and chips or cake. I will let yuo draw your own conclusions.









