I need Energy
I need someone with some energy to sell. No, it has to be legal. Seriously, this COVID-19 pandemic has zapped most of mine. You want to know how bad it is? I look back on my father-in-law living in a local assisted-living facility, who spent most of the day sitting in his recliner watching mindless TV. At the time, I felt sorry for him. Now, I’m jealous. I still have to get up and do some work. I’d rather just sit and do nothing.
My memory is so messed up, I never know what day of the week it is when I wake up. You know what my first positive thought of the day is? “At least I woke up.” Then I check my throat for signs of COVID, because that’s where the signs usually start listening to the people I know who have had it. With allergies, sometimes my throat is scratchy when I wake up even on a good day. Now, with SARS-CoV-2 in the air, who’s to say my scratchy throat isn’t something worse than simple allergies?
Then, there’s my body not doing me any favors. For 21 years, I’ve kept off the weight I accumulated in my 30s and early 40s. We’re talking 90 pounds. What was once a muscular toned fullback had turned into the Pillsbury Dough Boy between the age of 17 and 44. I was a stress eater, so I had to change my lifestyle. I robbed a bank, paid off my debts, the stress lifted, and I’ve been living clean and lean ever since. Okay, so I didn’t rob a bank, but I worked hard, kept off the weight, and now here I am with a (expletive) pandemic with which to deal. Aaaaaaarrrrrgggggghhh. Keeping off the weight hasn’t been easy. I just know that at my age now, I could never drop 90 pounds again. Plus, the weight gain would probably kill me because my heart wouldn’t stand it. Add to that, the fact that I could probably gain those 90 pounds in a month, and I can already hear the old ticker start to croak. I gain pounds just looking at food. That’s another down side of the aging process. One’s metabolism continues to slow over time, so the older one gets, the less he or she can eat to maintain a certain weight. Of course, you could exercise more, but then you’d just pull something and be laid up for weeks. Where is the happy medium? `This COVID-19 pandemic is a mind game, though. Part of me says, “Look, here’s the deal. You may die anyway, so why not just say the heck with it and dig in. Screw gaining weight. Who cares? Here, let’s stop right here. Buffet for only $8.99. All you can eat. Then, we’ll pick up a shake on the way home.”
On top of that, I have a terrible sweet tooth. I’m addicted to sugar, and it knows it. The other day, I bought home a box of sugar cookies. After speeding my way through about six over a one-hour period, I threw away the rest of the box. Like giving heroin to a junkie. Thanks, but no thanks.
Trouble is, winter isn’t that far off, and that’s when it’s the easiest to overeat. Don’t know what I’m going to do. At least I saved my Big Boy pants and shorts. Unfortunately, for some perverse reason, this pandemic screams, “Eat.” Then, I also talk to people who have lost 40 pounds after catching COVID, and if that was me, I don’t have 40 pounds to lose. Oh, I do, but I’d look like a cadaver. So, my stomach and mind team up and say, “You see, you need some extra weight in case you get sick, so let’s go buy a carton of Pop Tarts.” Uh, no thanks. Pop tarts are the worse. I can blow through a box of those (16 in all) in the span of one day. I eat them for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. Box empty.
Will power. I’ve had it for 21 years. Can’t lose it now, but it is hard.