I had a “morning constitutional” down to the doctor this morning, well the nurse as it turned out. I was getting some blood taken to get my cholesterol checked. Previously this was done with a pen-like gadget, a quick prick on the end of your thumb and it spat out a reading:

“FAR too high you lardy so-and-so”

Slightly disconcerting when you are expecting it to read 5.4…

Anyway this was the proper “you’ll only feel a little prick” type of blood gathering and, after my childish giggles had been abruptly stopped by a rolling of the eyes (I wonder if nurses hear any NEW jokes?) I departed with a teeny plaster that apparently fell off on the way home and the instructions to phone the surgery a week on Thursday after 2pm.

it’s odd, I know the reading will come back high as it was high the last time it was taken a few years back and the doctor already has notes on why (the whole hereditary thing), and whilst I’m conscious of what I eat at times, mainly I’ve not bothered as I always figured I’d end up on medication like my Dad.

It’s only just struck me that that day could be sooner than I expected, I’m wondering if I’ll get called into see the doctor in a couple of weeks and that’ll be me. Pill-popping for the rest of my life. Do I still have time to control it through diet? Is that even an option? Guess I should have a chat with my Dad.

The really odd sensation is the realisation that I’m middle-aged, things don’t work they way they used to, I have aches and pains when I get up in the morning and I’m realising how badly I’ve treated my body – my temple – in the past. This thought has been developing over the past few weeks, ever since my Dad’s heart attack, and for once I’m losing weight, exercising more and I’m not really thinking about it as a chore. I’ve not eaten chocolate in weeks, even when I was out at the weekend I had a few glasses of water at various points through the night, and abstained from my usual post-club snack.

This all goes to prove to me one thing; you can have all the knowledge of what you should and shouldn’t be eating, how much you should be exercising, and so on, but if you aren’t in the right state of mind it won’t make the blindest bit of difference.

Something inside my head has clicked though. I have offered myself no incentive to diet and exercise, there is no reward, or competition to spur me on, yet I feel more determined than ever.

My name is Gordon McLean. Three weeks ago I sent the scales over the 18st mark, this morning they are just over the 17st mark and I ain’t stopping there.

Written By

Long time blogger, Father of Jack, geek of many things, random photographer and writer of nonsense.

Doing my best to find a balance.

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