A Back to School Realization
Today was my first day back after being sick for weeks. I did two days at work last week, to kind of ease myself in, but now I'm back in to my normally rigorous schedule. I'm not as caught up as I had hoped, I was late this morning, and I have work in a little more than an hour. On the surface, it kind of stinks, but it's not as foot-draggingly exhausting as I thought it would be - so far, anyway.
And there are advantages to being back - the first being the food. That's right, I love the cafeteria food. Well, not all of it; I have a weakness for the Sbarro's mushroom pizza there. Now, mine is not the most cultured of palettes - I am perfectly happy with food at the level of Boston Market, and don't feel the need to be festively dining upon glazed duck in a white wine sauce from a five-star bistro on the Champs d'Elysee in order to feel like I've gotten a good meal. That said, fast-food pizza is normally below me. The worst, of course, is that greasy slop in the clear plastic prisons at the 7-11; I wouldn't eat that on a bet. Sbarro's mushroom slices, however, are worth walking across campus for. Which I did.
But my time for scrumptious meals such as this is coming to an end. At some point I have to stop eating so much like a teenager and get serious about watching my weight. I just went to the doctor last Tuesday and the nurse came dangerously close to having to do the ca-chunk to the next 50-pound weight increment on that white upright scale. That was close.
The funny thing is, though, that I am not the biggest I've ever been. I'm wearing 36 jeans as I type, and for a while there about eight years ago I was up to the tubby 40's. I still have my tubby 40 jeans, and they're like clown pants on me. The only explanation for this is that I have less fat now and more muscle (muscle weighing eight times what fat does), I am not convinced that I deserve more muscle right now. Between work and school, working out or doing my weekend-warrior stuff has been pretty much bumped off. The things I do now are much less athletic, so I can't figure it out.
This all jives with my long-held belief that weight is not anywhere near an accurate measuring rod of how in shape you are. Even so, that white upright scale was a close one. I'm still in good shape, but I'd like to be in great shape, and even have occasional daydreams about really hunkering down and getting in Ricardo-Montalban-ish shape, or like one of those fifty-year-old guys on the Bowflex commercials. One day at a time, though, so I have to admit that the day will come soon where Sbarro's mushroom pizza with extra sprinkled garlic powder and red peppers on a fall afternoon will have to become a fond memory.
That sucks.
And there are advantages to being back - the first being the food. That's right, I love the cafeteria food. Well, not all of it; I have a weakness for the Sbarro's mushroom pizza there. Now, mine is not the most cultured of palettes - I am perfectly happy with food at the level of Boston Market, and don't feel the need to be festively dining upon glazed duck in a white wine sauce from a five-star bistro on the Champs d'Elysee in order to feel like I've gotten a good meal. That said, fast-food pizza is normally below me. The worst, of course, is that greasy slop in the clear plastic prisons at the 7-11; I wouldn't eat that on a bet. Sbarro's mushroom slices, however, are worth walking across campus for. Which I did.
But my time for scrumptious meals such as this is coming to an end. At some point I have to stop eating so much like a teenager and get serious about watching my weight. I just went to the doctor last Tuesday and the nurse came dangerously close to having to do the ca-chunk to the next 50-pound weight increment on that white upright scale. That was close.
The funny thing is, though, that I am not the biggest I've ever been. I'm wearing 36 jeans as I type, and for a while there about eight years ago I was up to the tubby 40's. I still have my tubby 40 jeans, and they're like clown pants on me. The only explanation for this is that I have less fat now and more muscle (muscle weighing eight times what fat does), I am not convinced that I deserve more muscle right now. Between work and school, working out or doing my weekend-warrior stuff has been pretty much bumped off. The things I do now are much less athletic, so I can't figure it out.
This all jives with my long-held belief that weight is not anywhere near an accurate measuring rod of how in shape you are. Even so, that white upright scale was a close one. I'm still in good shape, but I'd like to be in great shape, and even have occasional daydreams about really hunkering down and getting in Ricardo-Montalban-ish shape, or like one of those fifty-year-old guys on the Bowflex commercials. One day at a time, though, so I have to admit that the day will come soon where Sbarro's mushroom pizza with extra sprinkled garlic powder and red peppers on a fall afternoon will have to become a fond memory.
That sucks.
