For as long as I remember I have been on the high side of the scale. No, not in smarts or dashing good looks. I’m talking about the real scale, the one in the bathroom.
We have a semi-regular arrangement. Every couple days I will jump on the scale. Other times, I will do it every day. Always in the morning. If I’m feeling a little on the chunky side, I will weigh in in my undies, deluding myself that they weigh much more than they actually do. Depending on the day and the numbers on the scale, my t-shirt and boxers can weigh as much as three to four extra pounds.
On skinny days, I weigh naked. Thankfully, I haven’t topped out on the scale’s ability to register my girth. But I have in days past come perilously close.
There was a time when I actually weighed in at the ideal weight, you know, the one the government wants you to be. I think I was 17 at the time. Then I dropped all that weight, going from what I thought was a pretty husky 165 pounds down to 135 in about 10 days, thanks to that episode where I just had to see a pair of breasts.
After my bout with mono and hepatitis, I gained the 30 pounds I lost back. Worried that I once again could be reduced literally to skin and bones, I added another 20 pounds just to give me some cushion. For most of my 20s, I was in the 185 to 190 range, not bad for a guy who topped out at 6′ 1″.
Keeping myself at that weight has been woe nigh impossible. I could make a lot of excuses for it, but basically, I think it comes down to my love of food and my loathe of exercise. Oh sure, I’ve joined several gyms in my time. In Florida I managed to keep my gym membership up for almost 18 months. Yes, they were surprised to see me that day I came in to close my account, but only largely because they had never seen me there before. I said I was a member, not an active one.
In the Pacific Northwest it is far easier to keep the weight off. Or at least I’d like to think so. But it hasn’t happened thus far. Sure, there are hills everywhere. You can’t walk across the street in downtown Seattle without having to go up or down a hill. And everyone is so sporty here that you can’t help but want to be a little more healthy.
This would be easy if this culture was in Florida. The food in Florida is not very inspiring so it was easy to keep my weight in check there. But back in Seattle, my God, there’s too many wonderful things to eat that are indigenous here, including that box of Frangos on the coffee table downstairs that managed to follow me home from our shopping spree downtown.
And the beer here. OMG, I had forgotten what real beer tastes like. There are so many microbreweries in the Northwest that you could visit a new one each day and never hit them all in a single year. Each serving up a frothy wonder that goes takes the express lane to my belly, which has gone from a six pack to a keg in the intervening years.
I know I’m not the only one who is fighting the Battle of the Bulge in this world. Some are having a much tougher fight than I.
As if fighting against great food and beverage weren’t enough, I have found that any of my vain efforts to actually lose weight is being sabotaged by a force that is totally beyond my control, all of our control.
I call it the Sandy Syndrome. As almost all of us know by now, the earth is getting warmer. Much warmer. The ice in our collective drink is melting, the seas are rising and people living inland from the barrier islands are doing the happy dance because soon they will own oceanfront property. We are going to hell in a hand basket and it’s adding inches to our waistlines.
How you say? Let’s start with a little science lesson I learned from superstorm Sandy. As we all know, the storm surge was historic. Yes, the high tide helped, as did the superstorm itself, but there was another factor that had eluded me until a scientist explained it in an article. And it has serious repercussions on our own health.
Here’s the science part. Warm water takes up more space than cold water. As the oceans get warmer, the warm water takes up more space, hence, the additional damage caused by major storms.
So how does this affect your waistline? Well, think about it. We’re about 60% water. As the atmosphere continues to heat up, all that water in our bodies expands, just like it does in the ocean. Yes, global warming is indeed part of the reason behind our ever tightening waistbands. We have no choice to purchase a new pair of pants or my personal favorite, the “relaxed fit,” because the earth is getting hotter.
Shocking, I know. And yet, no major science dollars are flowing into researching this effect. Sure, we talk about retaining water, but it’s warm water we’re harboring, folks. Tepid tummy water is making our midships bulge, not the vast quantities of food and beer we’re drinking. It’s all there in black and white – it’s science man! And we all know that unless you’re a Republican Congressman, you can’t argue with science.
Me? I’m taking heart in this new found discovery of mine. And since the scientific community isn’t willing to take the theory on to determine its validity, I will just take solace in the fact that I think it’s true.
Yes, world. I am a victim of global warming. Just as you are. Millions affected by the Sandy Syndrome, left to bulge away in homes throughout America, all because parents and grandparents decided to pour toxic waste into our skies, depleting the ozone, causing water to warm, and our innocent bellies to bulge.
Oh, the humanity!
In the Emerald City, taking as many water pills as I can to fight the earth’s effects,
– Robb