I wrote here, some while ago, on the matter of being fat and being on a diet. That didn’t last though because I have a real love of all things delicious and a self destructive streak that simply will not listen no matter how tight my trousers may be or how jiggly my man bosoms.
I did though do something I have been putting off for a while and go for a full medical check up recently. The sort you pay a lot for and they issue you with a terrifying report afterwards which has charts in it that prove that you’re lucky to be alive and that you are made up of one quarter Kentucky Fried Chicken. Probably my thighs. They are quite succulent.
So, it was with some trepidation that I headed to Leeds and signed in, nervous about what was to follow but relieved in a way that I had done something positive. I am getting on after all, I am 46 this year.
Now I don’t smoke, and drink only occasionally, but I don’t eat well at all and get far too little exercise. By too little I mean pretty much none – unless you count running back upstairs from the kitchen late at night because the blinds are up and the neighbours can probably see me eating handfuls of wafer thin ham straight from the fridge in my pants.
They ran a full battery of tests on all of my major bits and pieces, took blood and other bodily fluids to pore over and even tested my hearing. I’m a bit deaf on the wife side apparently.
There was a not wholly unpleasant episode involving lubricant and the snap of a rubber glove which men of a particular age are subjected to and the caress of an educated hand to ensure that all was ship shape in the underpants department.
How did it work out?
Well turns out It could have been a lot worse though I hope very much it was the kick up my full bottom that I needed. Almost everything came back better than I hoped though I apparently need to eat more nuts, oily fish and avocado. Easy enough I guess. The two areas for concern were my weight (which I did not need to pay someone £300 to tell me – I do have a mirror) and my blood pressure. They’re obviously linked but it did result in me having to go on medication as it was worryingly high.
I felt rather chastened I will admit,
So what now? Well a few weeks in on the meds and I feel noticeably better and I seem to almost have my eating under control. Its surprising what you are capable of when you the ramifications are laid out for you by someone with a certificate on his wall that entitles him to caress your testicles.
I’ll let you know how I get on.