By Joe Darby
Like an alcoholic who, hoping for reform, pours a half-full whiskey bottle down the kitchen sink, I am contemplating taking a profound step in my battle of the (tummy) bulge.
I have a bag, still two-thirds full, of those delicious miniature Hersey candy bars sitting on my kitchen counter. You know what I’m talking about — those little inch and a half long Krackles, Mr. Good Bars, Milk Chocolates and Dark Chocolates. Gosh, how I love them all.
I eat them in a certain way. I don’t mix them up, just reaching in the bag for a handful and devouring whatever my fingers come up with. No, I search out five or six Mr. Good Bars or Milk Chocolates and eat those in one sitting. Next time, I’ll go for a different type. That way, my gourmet palate doesn’t get confused by mixing the taste of a Krackle with a Dark Chocolate, for example.
So, because I’m heavier now than I’ve ever been in my life, I’m actually thinking about throwing the entire remaining contents of my candy bag away! And good riddance too!
But, of course, these mini bars are not the only good tasting delights with which I have been indulging myself lately. I also sometimes buy a big, big bag of M&Ms. I like them a lot too and it’s amazing how easily and quickly they go down when I’m sitting watching TV or reading. There’s also a cheese-cake brownie that I buy at one of our local super markets that is just an absolute joy to the tongue. And of course a quart of chocolate ice cream, that special picker upper for tired old men, can usually be found in the freezer.
I’m also a popcorn lover, but I’m not content with eating the unadorned contents of a microwave bag. The popcorn, I believe, is not ready to eat until I have slathered it with one of those liquid artificial butter concoctions that probably run up my cholesterol count with every bite I take.
And then there are the various cakes, frozen pies, restaurant desserts, etc., etc., that I also enjoy.
But, as momma used to say, actions have consequences. Yeah, they do. I had the Covid virus last October and completely lost my appetite, which was really a rather good thing. I went from 248 to 232 (I’m 6-1″ tall). I looked better and my clothes fit much nicer also. But then, after I had to place my wife Mary in a nursing home because of advanced dementia, I have been compensating with pleasure foods.
I slowly started to put back on the pounds that I had lost when I had the virus. But I have now reached a new, unwanted, peak of pounds. My bathroom scale has registered as much as 252, although last night it was 250. But that weight is entirely too much for my old legs. I can feel the difference and my clothes are fitting ridiculously tight.
But I’m not going to go out and buy a new wardrobe, because I am confident I can beat this. As I said at the beginning of the column, I am seriously thinking of tossing out my bag of candies. I might also throw out the chocolate ice cream in the fridge and not buy any more such stuff for a long time. When I’ve thought about losing weight in the past, I would always decide to “just finish what I have in the house now, because waste is a terrible thing.”
But my strong inclination to throw out my sweets shows, I hope, a new resolve to get this fatty thing under control. As I sit here, finishing up this column, I intend to go to the kitchen and do the deed. Well, at least I hope I do.
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