My Family is Killing Me!

I said to my wife, mother and son that the first blog post when I started my blog would be this:  My family is killing me!  With the exception of two and a half years between ages of 19 and 22, I have always been quite overweight.  I must admit I did shave off about thirty pounds once the young lady who was to be my wife said she would be my wife and we began planning the wedding.  However, as I got older that weight and far more settled around my face and torso until I was truly obese.

Starting in 1984 I went on a self-imposed weight reduction program which while lasting years resulted in the loss of about 70 pounds of which I gained back only 15.  Still, to be really in good health, and to live longer, I need to get rid of those 15 pounds and another thirty to thirty-five. 

Now, I am at an age where body fat just doesn't easily come off.  And what's worse, my wife, son and mother conspire against that happening!  My mother, keeping to the code of all mothers, continues saying that I should eat more although my appetite has shrung-it takes far less calories to keep up my weight than at any time before.  Additionally, she will hand me a ten dollar bill and ask for me to buy candy or cookies which we all eat right as it is coming through the door.  And then there is my wife who just cannot live without her sweets on the weekend.  Now, because in my family there is no such thing as a small portion, ice cream is pilled high in the kinds of bowls we have for morning cereal!  Candy bars, you know the very large ones, go in one perhaps two sittings.  My son who loves to cook, also loves to serve pasta and pizza which he does quite frequently. Oh, and he keeps after us to always have some form of snack chips in the house.

And then there's me wanting to reduce my size so I can live as long as my mother and beyond: 94 years of age she is now.  But I just do not have that kind of will power to resist the candy, the ice cream, the pasta, the cookies, the chips and all the other high carb-high fat food my family places in front of itself, nor do I have that kind of fortitute to have just one piece of candy, a small hand ful of chips or a four ounce serving of pasta: no, I was raised in a family who thought both love and long life came with giant size portions.

But, I must confess, I too conspire against myself, for if it isn't my mother, my wife or my son, it is I who will take a few dollars, motor to the supermarket and get some goody or other.  In fact, I've been known to buy a can of prepared frosting, chocolate, of course, and finish it in one sitting.  Recently, though, I have not been so reckless; still as long as there is money in my pocket, and a supermarket full mostly of high carb-high fat food, I will be tempted beyond endurance.  Indeed, my family is killing me and I am part of that family.