Yesterday I went for my annual physical.
A ritual that for any man is tortuous at best.
Women are so much better when it comes
to routine maintenance. They take care of
themselves on a regular basis. Whereas
males are willing to do anything but face
reality. Instead we exist in a testosterone
fueled fantasy world. One where we've no
need to deal with petty issues such as our
health. Nor be probed by rubber gloved
professionals. Instead we live in a state of
denial. That is until something occurs like
a heart attack. Then we pay attention.
The last thing I want is to be put on a scale.
Or even worse, reminded of the pounds I've
gained since our last encounter. Especially
when in my mind I look pretty damed good
for a guy my age. Dear "D" is a renowned
style expert. For years she's helped women
look their best. However when it comes to
self perception - ladies tend to be more than
a tad self-critical. As "D" has learned, when
looking in a mirror most females will see a
plethora of faults and issues. Whereas when
a gentleman of any shape or size faces the
glass, his assessment is "GREEK GOD."
Perception versus reality
While my doctor couldn't be a nicer guy, I'd
rather not see him on a regular basis. In fact
nothing would make me happier than to avoid
my annual dose of reality. My added baggage
aside I'm in good health. No issues of note.
Except high blood pressure. However the guy
just can't help but offer up a few suggestions.
All of which I really don't like the idea of let
alone implementation. Dieting seems like a
good idea. Who wouldn't want to shed a few
pounds and be able to wear all of those togs
in the back of one's closet. Yet when it comes
to denying myself, I'm unwilling to do so.
Given I celebrate a fairly major birthday this
year, I've little need to be reminded of my
failures. The effort alone of bending over
is more than ample reinforcement that time
marches on. But I do worry about my ever
weakening resolve to do anything to stem
said tide. Going to the gym is beyond out of
the question. Resisting dessert simply isn't
an option. And avoiding the inevitable is
virtually impossible. Thus I prefer to enjoy
life's ride and go with the flow. Who cares
if I don't live to be ninety? I'd rather indulge
here and now rather than in Assisted Living!