Pork rinds, potato chips and beer do not make a balanced diet

Since my last posting revolved around the preparation of foodstuffs, today it behoves me to look at the downside of excess nosh intake.

It’s a downside that applies particularly to my own sex. You see, men don’t normally obsess much about their weight, and eating disorders are more rampant, statistically, in females. Many men, even if they sport a 50-inch waist, will glance at the image in a full-length mirror and declare: “Lookin’ good, dude.”

But now, in yet another of those ubiquitous warnings about how we should feel terrible about ourselves, we learn (from a ‘study’, of course) that having a potbelly in middle age leads to premature dementia. Well, we already knew that big gut led to diabetes, coronaries, strokes and all sorts of other icky and potentially lethal stuff, but we now learn that it increases our chances of courting elder vagueness.

Maybe this study from the Kaiser Permanente Division of Research in Oakland CA (have to get all the creds in) is well-founded, and I am sure study author Rachel Whitmer is an intelligent, not to mention svelte person, and maybe all the chubby guys should now acquire yet another reason to lose sleep prior to the ‘big sleep.’ As for me, I will regard this ‘study’ as I do all the others, a ploy by tranquilizer companies and booze purveyors to increase our angst about the mere fact of living. Yep, another reminder that we’re mortal, all right.

Now, I’m not defending porkiness. It is unhealthy, just like smoking, excessive boozing and not enough sex. Certainly the average chap should check out his avoirdupois and come to realize that the item with the dial next to the toilet is a scale and he too can avail himself of it.

About seven years ago I decided my trousers were a bit on the tightish side and I was – vain as I am, and hating to admit it – getting a tad zaftig. I was looking like a paunchy middle-aged guy. It made me feel a bit mortified. I have a well-honed personal shame index, for some reason.

So, I decided to lose some weight. What I did was a modified Atkins Diet. Despite the bad press this diet got at the time – especially from rival diet floggers – I found that if following Dr. A. was going to kill me, it was only that I was going to die from boredom by following the regimen.

But, it worked. Within a few months I was down 30 pounds and theretofore unknown and gorgeous females were coming up to me and asking me to sire their children. Well, the last bit is hyperbole, but I was pleased with the results. Furthermore, despite the caveats of the anti-Atkins brigade, I kept the weight off. I’ve been a bit lazy about in the last couple of years, and am up about 10 pounds, but I’ve still been consistently 20 pounds lighter than I was before.

The benefits were great. I could walk up the three steps to the front door without getting out of breath, and as for mental health, I generally remember who I am, whom I’m married to, and where I live.

My biggest test after having lost the weight was when we were in France last year. I went mousse mad and croissant crazy. However, I was walking so much that I actually lost weight during those six weeks. Hey, did you know there was a connection between exercise and weight maintenance? Amazing.

Anyway, the foregoing was a public service announcement. If you were feeling inordinately ‘secure’ today, there is something else to worry about. Pleased to be of help.