“Hmmmm,” said my doctor, looking over the list of my vital statistics. “Blood pressure okay, muscle tone not bad, borderline cholesterol. Nothing alarming, but…..”
“Don’t say it, doctor,” I pleaded.
“Don’t say what?”
“Please don’t say I’m overweight. I’m fed up hearing I’m overfed, even from total strangers. Two Girl Scouts offered to give me both their seats on the subway this week. On a turbulent flight to L.A. the pilot made me sit on the right side for proper balance. The drugstore scale flashed a “One at a time!” warning.
“I wasn’t going to say you’re overweight.”
“You weren’t?”
“No, I was going to tell you you’re not tall enough. If you want to avoid a heart attack, diabetes and a long list of other serious afflictions, but you don’t want to lose weight, you’ll have to grow taller. The preferred height for you to maintain a healthy condition, considering your weight, should be seven feet, four inches. I recommend you attain that altitude as soon as possible.”
His alternate suggestion was a diet he called “Safe and Sensible” which, of course, ruled it out for me. The title lacked the necessary word “Miracle” that’s included in many of the diet titles in Woman’s World magazines.
I once had to barge into a supermarket checkout line to reach the magazine rack for a copy of Woman’s World with its latest miracle diet. ” Please excuse me Ma’am,” I said as I squeezed past, “I have to lose 20 pounds by next Wednesday.” She understood completely and stepped aside.
A friend recommended his “Restaurant Diet” which has no main meal calorie restrictions. However, that meal and all snacks must be eaten in a restaurant at least three miles away from the dieter’s home and he or she must jog both ways. My friend said he’d followed the strict rules and had lost 20 pounds in a couple of months, but he spoke from his hospital bed while recovering from his severe shin splints episode.
The more I heard of wacko diets, the more I liked my doctor’s “Safe and Sensible” regimen. I’ve stuck to it religiously, praying daily for strength and minimizing bad language.
And I have never weakened! Those of you who saw me eating at that diner in Denville last week might think otherwise, but there’s a simple explanation. I’d stopped to ask for directions to Diamond Spring Road and the old partially deaf waitress thought I’d ordered pie ala mode.
Imagine That 