Tipping the scales...over

I'll get straight to the point. If this worldwide COVID-19 pandumbic were a food, it would be best described as:

"You're a three-decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce!"

Recognize those words? Yes, from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. A very adequate description, I'd say.

So where might I be going with this, you fear. Weight! I have an idea. In my last post, I didn't give out too many details about my visit to the doctor. Doctors can't give out details about patients because of a privacy act called HIPAA. (Google that for more details. If I get into the habit of explaining such minutiae, my blog will become a laughingstock.) But since I'm the patient in question (a questionable patient?), then I can blab all I want.

When we visit the doctor, we all look forward to stepping on the scale so the nurse can record our weight. I always joke that she should just slide the weight all the way to the highest notch to save time. However, once she slid and adjusted the weights, then figured in the tax and tip, my total was a mind numbing 265─the highest amount of poundage this body has EVER weighed!

I could blame the COVID-19 situation. I could blame Diana for working in retail. I could blame Chimi because he's soft and fluffy. But the real culprit is yours truly. Get up, get out, get busy, get moving. Easier said than done, though. Why? Because I have many other issues. Getting back my physique and looking like Adonis again is going to be a project akin to Metro getting all of their rail projects done in the Los Angeles area. This is why I will be seeing a specialist in the near future.

In the meantime, getting out and walking, even if it's one or two trips around the block is a start. It's a new month, so it's time for a new attitude. And it's time to quit moving my mouth and start moving the old body. If I can get that 265 down to 150, I'll be much better off. I don't have to wait for COVID-19 to go away to take better care of myself.