Salad days

Welcome to the seventies! Ageing past our sixtieth birthday, these can be our salad days. Our youth is gone, we are the elders in our time and place. Yesterday, I woke up for a fresh day and took a good, long look at my female form. Yikes!

So, today I turned a new page, full of flab rehab, or indeed, fatty rehabby. I am aiming no longer add to my fat-bottomed add physique. Due to my individual and unique health, I have multiple food intolerances, some in my family heritage. I have resolved to avoid or severely restrict some food choices. Anything we like can lead to bad binge habits. Today, it is now 9 am, and I already have cravings. All humans have an addiction centre in their brains, for anything, such as nicotine, alcohol, chocolate, coffee, sugary treats, even salt, or worse case scenario, drugs.

I am hungering for that crispy chicken I cooked. I have frozen it all, so deliciously summoning me to be tempted. “Resist”, as a famous life coach used to say. “Feel the burn!” I proceed to walk more, burn off some bloating. ‘Twas only yesterday, Rome was not slimmed in a day!

My goal is to cut down on the coffee I drink, we are not supposed to consume coffee after midday. I was drinking too much strong caffeine and milk from my beautiful coffee maker. Coffee is quite an addictive substance, originally brewed as a mood altering substance in the good old days. It can disagree with some. On the other hand, folks, never mess with a woman who needs coffee!! We match our shoes with our broomsticks!

Many of my older pals avoid coffee, only drinking their preferred cups of favourite tea. I do so fancy a nice, hot, sweet, builder’s cup of tea, in which the spoon practically stands by itself. As fate decrees it, I am also allergic to tea, like many things. Woe, snivel.

No one is alone in these salad days of our seventies. Youth may have disappeared, but my cellulite came to visit, and not only lil’ ole me. My gal pals are currently enrolling in Flab Rehab programs of their personal undertaking. For these ladies too, no more muffins, fewer carbs, no choccies, they are cutting down starches. Their social media on my phone is full of pitiful comments about lunching on one tastefully sliced apple, it is really not quite chocolate.

Vegetables have to substitute, pitiful, pitiful, depending on what is in season and available. Still, it never hurts to be optimistic. Life and the universe can send anyone mountains to climb. Endeavouring to slim somewhat is a realistic health issue, compounded by our ageing metabolism, like all else here. We can all be too laid back about flabby bits and obesity, which could increase our arthritis, any cardiac or vasular condition, or the potential for Type 2 Diabetes.

For the battle of the bulge, being militant lettuce lovers is us! Of course, seventy plus and post menopausal women must be positive and affirmative to each other. Practically, whoever one day, has to lift and nurse us ongoing, will need to be strong weight lifters, with a back brace each. Plus, excessive weight we seniors might carry around can add to lower energy levels, move it and lose it! Wish us all good luck, including for any tubby senior male we know.

Update: One week later, it is now dateline, 9 am, Day 9, Flab Rehab. My face and abdomen are far less bloated, been walking twice as far, still not game to weigh myself. I shall confront that in another four weeks. I am resisting the siren calling from my coffee maker, while doubling my reps on my arm weights lifting of soup cans in my home gym. We can all aspire to 150 minutes of exercise per week, even if we do not have a personal trainer.

Guess we seventy year olds can still reach for the stars, in our salad days. For this battle of the bulge, militant lettuce lovers unite!