By Dick Brooks
For Capital Region Independent Media
The indicators are starting to appear again, those little arrows that start blinking through my mental fog: “Diet-diet-diet.”
I know now why four-lettered words get such a bad rap.
I’ve tried postponing the inevitable but I can’t avoid the facts any longer. My feet have started to disappear, the influx of summer goodies has led to having my toes appear only when I kick my recliner back. The pants that used to fit now don’t and “the dryer must have shrunk them” doesn’t seem to ring true anymore.
All the humor is gone from phases like, “I’m not fat, I’m fluffy.” I figure I’ve got 20 or so extra pounds of fluff to deal with. Sock wrestling is no longer a sport, it’s war!
Younger, more flexible folks have no idea what sock wrestling is, but I know there are a bunch of you out there who know exactly what I’m talking about. As you age, your legs lengthen, your arms get shorter and your socks start to fight back. Those cute little short sneaker socks disappear, to be replaced by long loose ones, preferably with the elastic gone or going.
You need a comfortable spot to sit where there’s room to roll around a bit; the bed is a perfect place. You sit on the edge, hold on to the very top edge of the sock and like one of the western heroes of your youth, you try to lasso a toe and get the process started. Once the snag is made, there ensues all the rolling around and vocalizing usually associated with a calf-roping contest until they are pulled up to their proper place for the day.
So far, I’ve won the battle but the day isn’t far off when I may appear sock-less, trying to pass myself off as a visiting Cape Codder. I’m thankful that I grew up male, I can’t even imagine trying to get into a pair of pantyhose!
So, I guess it’s time to fight the good fight again. I’ll head to the market and stock up on rabbit food, twigs and bark. I will deprive myself of the good things in life. I’ll even exercise until the excess disappears so I can go back to eating the same way that got me here in the first place.
Isn’t life grand!
Someday I’m just going to say “To heck with it!” and buy myself some Goodyear shirts and pass myself off as a blimp!
Thought for the week — Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.
Until next week, may you and yours be happy and well.
Reach columnist Dick Brooks at email@example.com.