Just a few days past my 70th birthday, (one of which is too mindful of my days), thinking clearer that ever, finds great disappointment in myself. Oh, I have been here before amazed at how weak and ridiculous an “old fat man” can be. I am not belittling myself. I merely tell it like it is.
There are excuses that are legitimate but at seventy when a distinct, harmful feeling can not be controlled and one that has been a lifelong irritant should be addressed harshly. Yet, this uncontrolled reality easily slips away to prey again on my actions. It is, if you believe such things, that the devil, as in “the devil made me do it,”was the catalyst, then I need to say I don’t think so.
It is the same old thing. The older the “old, fat man” gets. the less logical thought he has and the weaker he acts. There is simply no control. I go away for my birthday and eat without any conscious. No conscious, but there was plenty of awareness.
I should have been more aware that in twenty-two days I am to have a knee replacement. It would have been great if I didn’t gain a single pound, even better if I had lost a couple of pounds. It is not good when I eat and gain too much weight and not be able to stop this frenzy. And now as I go home tomorrow I can only try to stay on the second floor, stay out of the kitchen and hope that a few pounds can melt away.
I repeat, “How very stupid of me!”