A diet for a large human being

I’m at a lovely condo on Hilton Head Island on a mission to lose weight.

In the past five years I have probably gained ten to fifteen ponds. I now regularly weigh 198 pounds in the morning when I dare to get on the stupid scale. I am slightly over five feet ten inches tall. And, to be frank, this weight is hardly all muscle. I do walk on my treadmill, a couple of times one week, not so much the next week, sort of irregularly. I have developed that sagging belly and attractive pear shape of so many elderly gentlemen gone to pot. I’m a candidate for the “man-bra” made famous on a Seinfeld episode.

My cardiologist claims I need to lose twenty pounds immediately, if not sooner. My crazy Internist actually pokes me in the belly while telling me to lose weight! The next time he does that I’m thinking of poking him in the eye!

So here I sit in the sunny south thinking about exercise and portion control. My cardiologist actually asked me who cooks for me. I told him Bobby Flay and he looked surprised. I cook for me, of course. So he said I should take whatever supper I have prepared and put half of it in a plastic container for the next evening’s meal. And, what, gnaw on the legs of the furniture later that night!

So I brought my bicycle and my golf clubs, I am leaving in a couple of minutes for a bike ride on the beach. I shall have salad for lunch. I will save half my supper for the homeless. I will report back after two weeks. I’m not optimistic. Next week my granddaughters arrive and we will eat hot dogs and French fries and ice cream. What can I say?