bloated guy smoking
On one hand, I've cut down on the number of cigarettes I have each day. The big motivator? Sloth. I'm too lazy to have to bundle up in warm clothes just to survive the cold outside the house to enjoy a puff. We live on a golf course with no nearby neighbors, so the wide expanse encourages frosty winds. This morning though, my nicotine addiction won over my natural laziness and I watched the white egrets pick through the cold grass, alternately exhaling smoke and water vapor in the feeble sunlight.
On the other hand, the enforced rich meals have had the unwanted effect of ballooning me past the weight I'm happy with. I keep forgetting that America is the land of the supersize (not that we've eaten in a fastfood ever since we got here, I kid you not), and so the steaks I get are 12-16 oz., the Maine lobsters are weighed whole by the pound, and I will never order a pair of chicken breasts from the deli again, since the two pieces I got could have fed my entire office staff and their families for a day. Huge portions of the main courses plus all the add-ons like baked potatoes and their ilk smothered in things like real sour cream have packed on the winter fat on my frame. My silhouette is now closer to Hitchcock's famous outline than the dapper thing I had illusions of maintaining.
It's all too easy to become unhealthy and overweight here. At least in Manila, I could walk from home to office to store and back. Here, everything necessitates a car ride (mental note: when we move to the States, move to a real city where there are people and buildings crammed into city blocks and not so much of this rustic loveliness) because everything is so far from each other. Even Sage has developed a habit of immediately taking a nap when we buckle her up in the car seat:
ME: Are you sleepy?
SAGE: No, Dad. But it's gonna be a long ride, right?
Right.
On the other hand, the enforced rich meals have had the unwanted effect of ballooning me past the weight I'm happy with. I keep forgetting that America is the land of the supersize (not that we've eaten in a fastfood ever since we got here, I kid you not), and so the steaks I get are 12-16 oz., the Maine lobsters are weighed whole by the pound, and I will never order a pair of chicken breasts from the deli again, since the two pieces I got could have fed my entire office staff and their families for a day. Huge portions of the main courses plus all the add-ons like baked potatoes and their ilk smothered in things like real sour cream have packed on the winter fat on my frame. My silhouette is now closer to Hitchcock's famous outline than the dapper thing I had illusions of maintaining.
It's all too easy to become unhealthy and overweight here. At least in Manila, I could walk from home to office to store and back. Here, everything necessitates a car ride (mental note: when we move to the States, move to a real city where there are people and buildings crammed into city blocks and not so much of this rustic loveliness) because everything is so far from each other. Even Sage has developed a habit of immediately taking a nap when we buckle her up in the car seat:
ME: Are you sleepy?
SAGE: No, Dad. But it's gonna be a long ride, right?
Right.
posted by Dean at
3:19 AM
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