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Humor June 2013

Wit and Grit

Sadistic Doc Tries to Shape Me Up for Summer

By Mary Stobie

Having come to her for help, not for the purpose of turning her into a wailing wall, I knew I had to become positive, dampen the whiner in me, smash out the loser trying to surface and rule me.

When I see summer clothes — shorts, sleeveless tops, and bathing suits in a department store, I get queasy. My fear is I wouldn’t look good in any of them. Why? It’s because my weight has crept up over the years — a lot. I weighed myself last week and said, “Enough is enough!”

So this week I consulted my physician, Dr. Guia (name changed to protect the guilty), about my concerns. She weighed me and we both groaned.

She said cruelly, “You’re a Medicare Mama.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. “I thought I was a grand-size grandma.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Both of those.”

“How empowering,” I said, panicking.

She cackled. “If you want to lose weight, Mary, you’ll have to move more and eat less. In other words exercise and push yourself away from the table.”

“Yikes,” I said. “You mean give up my Jolly Ranchers?”

“Yup.”

Quivering with fear about my future, I asked, “Regarding exercise, are you saying a half-hour walk every other day isn’t enough?”

“No,” she said. “That just keeps you where you are, at best. You have to get your heart rate up regularly if you want to lose weight.”

“Aaagh.”

With an evil smile she said, “Instead of walking, try jogging.”

I gasped. “But my feet are as flat as cookies.”
She examined my feet and looked at me with pity. “You’re right,” She said. “Good thing you didn’t try out for the military.”

“Darn. My dream is shattered,” I said. “I always figured if all else failed in my old age I could sign up with the Army and march into battle.”

“You?” she asked. “Get serious. Have you tried hot yoga?”

“Tried hot yoga once,” I said. “I about fainted.”

Was Dr. Guia, a slim woman about my age a sadist? “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you the truth,” she said. “I hate hot yoga too. And I have bad feet like you. I bike.”

I was about to say, “Bike? You have to be kidding. I haven’t ridden one since I rode a tricycle.” But that is not what I said. Having come to her for help, not for the purpose of turning her into a wailing wall, I knew I had to become positive, dampen the whiner in me, smash out the loser trying to surface and rule me.

Suddenly, I felt confident. Strange words rumbled from deep in my gut, “It probably wouldn’t kill me to try biking.”

“I bike 40 miles every Saturday,” Dr. Guia said slyly. “And I rode 30 miles this morning before work. I’m just trying to inspire you.”

“Oh, yeah, sure! You are as competitive as all get out. You even have a photo of yourself on top of Mt. Kilimanjaro in the waiting room. What I need is to be more competitive, like you. Make this weight loss effort a game.”

“You’re catching on. Let’s talk calories and food. Eat more protein because it gives you long- lasting energy and helps build muscle. Muscle burns fat while you sleep,” she said.

“Burn fat while I’m sleeping? Now you’re talking.”

She slid me a sheet of paper describing a balanced diet. With a glimmer of hope, I left, and on the way home bought a bike.

Then after savoring succulent salmon for dinner I felt saucy. I’d eaten my protein! That night I dreamed I won a bicycle race.

But in the morning I was growing chicken feathers. Cluck, cluck, cluck.

Three days later the bike was still sitting in the garage.

Waiting.

And waiting.

Maybe losing weight while I sleep is more my style.

 

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