I sat in my doctor’s office for my annual wellness exam. I felt a sense of satisfaction as he carefully reviewed my lab work: “Vitamin D3: great; cholesterol: excellent, potassium, fine….” It all checked out favorably as he analyzed each item.
I was glancing toward the exit when my doctor hesitated. “Let’s see, did you know you’ve gained eight pounds since your last visit?” He didn’t seem particularly concerned, but he did review the dangers of abdominal fat. It stopped me cold.
I had noticed my pants fitting tighter, and I’d given up on buckling the waist on some of my jeans, relegating them to the back of my closet for a “skinnier day.” But then again, I had lost too much weight (or so everyone told me) a couple of years ago (“It makes you look older.”) So I had said “yes” to second helpings for almost any dish.
As the doctor raised his eyebrows, I thought of what we used to call in the 1970s “The Freshman 10,” the 3 to 10 pounds college students tend to gain in their first two years of college, most of it during the first semester.
It’s been eight months since I retired from the pastorate, so maybe that’s what it is: “The Retirement 10.” It’s less than a pound a month. That’s not much: a mere .03960396 of a pound a day.
I must admit: I had poured extra butter (and then some) on my Sunday night popcorn, a regular habit now. And Lori makes this recipe for a delicious protein-powered, peanut butter, chocolate-covered dish. It’s a “healthy treat” (I don’t call it a dessert because “treats” aren’t as fattening, right?) she got from a health-food company. And if no one sees me when I’m eating those extra helpings, the calories don’t count, do they?
Back in March, we made a trip to London, UK. What a superlative idea the English had with tea time: so fun and tasty. So, Lori and I incorporated that little habit into our daily routine. We have afternoon tea time together. That’s not bad; it’s actually good: a retirement perk. We take a break, and we talk and visit over afternoon tea. But I had to go all in with it, adopting the British custom in detail. What is tea time without crumpets, scones, chocolate, and those cute little sandwiches?
I hadn’t suddenly started gorging myself on enormous meals. I had made minor changes, adding seemingly harmless habits here and there.
But if I continue my little advance to my waistline, that translates into twelve extra pounds by the end of the year. That’s not too bad. But then, if I fast forward two years, I’m up almost 25 pounds. After three years, I would have to adjust my car seat further from the steering wheel. In the words of Frank Barone, “Geez, Louise!”
Walking out of the clinic, I admitted that I had NOT packed on eight pounds of mighty muscle. No, I was carrying eight extra pounds of pure fat. Getting into my car, I thought I heard a mocking voice from behind a bush: “Hey, lard butt.”
My eight pounds hadn’t come during the week before my wellness exam, but rather, little by little, ounce by ounce, over several months. And if I continue, I will increase my weight. I won’t lose that fat magically by wishful thinking.
As I drove away, I thought of a time, years ago, when I was so intense with my religious studies in graduate school that I no longer found time to start my day with prayer and meditation. Gradually, I drifted from my closeness to God. When the semester was finally over, I walked outside, sat on a park bench, watched a golden sunset, breathed deeply, and realized where I was: I hadn’t grown spiritually; I had missed the intimacy, the fellowship, the time with God. It hadn’t happened overnight but little by little, day by day, month by month, with the neglect of one positive habit.
Years ago, I heard Zig Ziglar say, “Inch by Inch, life’s a cinch. Yard by yard, life is hard.”
Simple, but true.
So, I’m taking it back, Inch by Inch.
Starting with my waist.