Well it was my annual health assessment this week, so I dragged myself over to Leeds to allow the nice folk at BUPA to do the things they like to do to me. Last years assessment was the beginning of a bit of a mini spiral for me when, just before Christmas, they declared me in fine shape which I took as a sign to eat, drink and be merry – and I then continued to do so post Christmas and into lockdown and by the time I looked at the scales in May I had put on about 10kgs.
I make no excuses for this, I like to eat. I like to drink, and whilst I am often a grumpy old fart, I can also be found being merry from time to time.
Anyway, this was when this most recent journey began. Fast forward one year and it was with great trepidation, and a little excitement, that I took off my coat and boots and stepped (wearing the lightest clothes I could find that morning) onto the scales.
Over 10KG down on last year. Throw in the 10KG or so that weren’t even on their records and that’s not bad going at all.
A battery of tests was to follow and it turned out my heart was okay, my BP in an ok range (I had ran out of tablets so it was a little elevated) and my cholestrol, blood sugar and haemoglobin were all looking good. My body fat was down 7% (though I am still more than a third made of fat) and my waist was down 7cm or some such.
So on the whole everything trending as I had hoped and they were obviously happy with the results.
At the end of the session the doctor even caressed my testicles and stuck a finger up my bottom which I am assuming was a reward for my fine efforts this year.