"Me and Neckfat" sounds like an Owen Wilson movie or a Bollywood reflective piece starring a bunch of Indian actors.
Rather, it's about me and the fat on my neck.
Let me explain.
(sigh) You see, I get tied up in "routine" that does not include daily exercise. Instead I'm hit and miss. I'll be tennis guy for a couple of days per week and then bicycle guy for a couple of days per week. Jump off cliffs every now and then and then maybe I'll climb a mountain.
Never really doing consistent exercise daily, I've been schooled and educated to understand the finer points points of kinesiology and the major differences between anaerobic and aerobic activity and when to use which. I understand how adenosine triphosphate works to provide energy to the human body (see fig. 7.18 (2)) and I know that 3200 calories burnt is equivalent to 1 pound lost on the human frame. I know how 30 minutes a day of aerobic activity working at 65-75% of your maximum heart rate will drastically increase your aerobic capacity and you'll look better doing it. Heck, you'll feel better!
Eat less, exercise more.
I get it.
I just don't do it. Why?
Perhaps my bad knees?
Perhaps I'm pre-occupied?
Perhaps I'm just stinking lazy (ding, ding, ding, ding, "We have a winner!!").
Here's my evil cycle:
Aerobically exercise 4-5 times a week for 2 months.
Get diverted from the exercise routine (red balloon flying by, "oh lookie!!)
Slow down to maybe once a week of aerobic exercise.
Play basketball or tennis long enough in one day to mash and grind my knees into a bloody pulp.
Take 3 weeks off to recover while daily ingesting pain-relieving cocktails of Ibuprofen, Naproxen and Midol PM.
Followed by another 2 weeks of cotton-mouth and general loafing.
I notice that fat begins to appears around my neck (and other places).
The neck fat begins to bulge.
Feel the sweaty bulging neck fat.
Look at the sweaty bulging neck fat in the mirror (different angles, over and over, all the day long).
Complain to Wife about neck fat.
Listen to my dear Wife say, "You look fine! But you you know Hon, you do have the power to get rid of the neck fat."
Followed by the "????" look from me. ("Do I look fine? Or do I need to have a million dollar surgical neck reduction?")
TIME OUT! This reminds me: 100% of the time while on the way out to the car to go to church, I could be bleeding profusely from one eye socket with a huge Rhode Island sized chocolate milk stain on the white Sunday shirt I'm wearing, mismatched socks (colorblindness), dog hair on my pants and big sweaty bulging neck fat spilling out over my white collar covering the half-windsor knot in my tie (yeah, real attractive) while swearing that I cannot go on because I look horrible.
My wife will stop, tilt her head, look me over from head to toe, bite her lip and then wave a hand and say,
"You look great!"
"????Huh?" "What is that?????"
Back to the cycle:
After complaining long enough I'll renew my gym membership.
Aerobically exercise 4-5 times a week for 2 months.
Get diverted from the routine (red balloon flying by, "oh lookie!!)
Can you hear the carnival music?
And the cycle starts over.
I'm probably on my 27th consecutive cycle and I'm just about to renew my gym membership. But before I do, the advertisement below catches my eye.
"Hey... I guess it could work." I think to myself.
"Plus I'd get a free bleeding bowl (see small print on ad)." Hmmmm, I ponder.
What part of my demented self actually considers this?
That's right Daily Item readers, my colonoscopy report came back and I passed with flying colors.
My colon gets an A+, +, +, +, +.
As in, my colon is THE model colon of the planet.
As in, mine is the colon others can only strive to be like.
As in, my colon may be chosen as the "poster-colon" of the AMAA.
As in, UCLA would like my colon donated to science when I die.
As in, The Smithsonian would like to borrow it to and take it on tour across America.
Enough, enough of my colon boasting.
These test results have brought me a new jubilant zest for life. Naturally. So in a haste I decided to spring for a new outfit (pictured above). Ruth would not wear hers so I gave it to my sister in-law Wendy who is displaying it proudly (er, thanks Wendy). Nothing could feel better than the exuberance I feel when I wear my terry cloth man suit. You'd be a fool not to join me.
Just a quick post to let everyone know that the procedure has been completed and I'm doing well. Official test results won't be in for a day or two, but I suspect all is well.
First I showed up at the hospital and gave them every bit of identification I had so as to ensure that I would be able to pay for this procedure should my insurance not cover it.
Leaving the registration desk I began to relax thinking to myself, "I'm finally going to get this done." I've had to practice all week not to"think too much" about this procedure or I knew I'd reschedule again (I rescheduled 3 times).
Finally at ease I walked into the surgery area ready to go when I was greeted by a nurse. Dang!!! It was Sister Lisa Stevens from the Hailey 2nd Ward!!!
Blast!! That was MY WARD!! I attenuated my awkwardness.
She had a slight grin on her face that she was trying to conceal.
"Fetch (Mormon cussing), " I thought.
Sensing my uneasiness she had fun asking me questions.
"So Brother Hope, are you looking forward to your "procedure." she said, fully articulating the three syllables in pro-ce-dure.
"Double Fetch (Severe Mormon cussing), I thought again. I could say nothing. I just gave her a pinched look and nodded.
She pointed to the half-curtained room I was to report to.
"Have fun!" She whimmed.
With closed eyes and head wagging back and forth, I lumbered to my room.
(This could be my doctor with the fishtape. I don't know though because I slept through the whole procedure)
Once in my room I slipped into the hospital gown that was 2 sizes too small.
I thought to myself, "I look way too fat in this gown!"
Panicked, I searched and found a stainless steel implement to look into to see my reflection while wearing the gown. And indeed, as I suspected the gown made me "look fat." Looking in the implement with squinted eyes, I tried to straighten the front of the gown with my hand while sucking my tummy in. No luck.
Fetch! My head wagged again.
I laid down on the gurney and two different nurses came in and checked my vitals. One nurse had to give me the "look-over" before saying anything. She looked me over from the top of my head, down to my toes with her eyes finally resting on my mid-section which was covered by a flowered gown that was too small.
She flashed a disagreeing look that caught my eyes.
She didn't say it but I knew she thought I looked fat in the gown.
"Guilty," I thought in the gayest voice I could imagine.
So with low self esteem and self image I laid partially naked on a table and made nervous chit-chat through a trembling and clenched jaw with professionals that I didn't know talking about fishing and elk hunting and if I ever experience bloody stools.
"NO!!" I said defensively to the bloody stool question.
My troubles would soon be over.
Within minutes I had an I.V. hooked into my right arm. I looked in front of me and saw a herringbone pattern on the wall that I hadn't seen before. I blinked hard and right after that I saw a Blue Dog wearing a tie and fedora (Huckleberry Hound????) walking from left to right where the herringbone image had been. My mind wandered as I imagined myself on a bigwheel and then a coin operated golden horse outside a grocery store.
I tapped the nurse on the elbow.
"Uh, what's in the I.V." I said with a goofy smile.
She said, "sodium, water and nitrewsdf........."
I was out.
(picture of a colon)
The next thing I remember was being all dressed and mumbling something to my wife. She had a smile on her face as if I was saying something funny to her.
"Sccchhhttop your laughing," I blurted.
The procedure was finished and I didn't even feel a thing or I don't remember a thing. Either way it was better than I thought it would be. Er...because of the sleep part that is.
They wheeled me out of the hospital in a wheelchair ( I have no idea how I got into the chair) and soon I was home.
I spent the rest of the weekend drifting in and out of sleep with a sodium, water and nitrewsdf......hang over.
(me trying to stay awake)
Later that night I saw Sister Lisa Stevens at the Ward Picnic (24th of July Celebration). We looked oddly at each other without saying a word. Kind of like that odd, "old girlfriend" feeling.
I don't think our relationship will ever be the same.
My Mother and Father died when they were 60 and 62 respectively. My Mother died of cancer but my Father died in his sleep with what we thought was some sort of stomach or colon cancer. I have no idea why an autopsy wasn't performed to determine the cause of death...
OK. I'm bitter about that. (I'll save that for another day)
Nonetheless, when my doctor heard the above story he demanded that I get a colonoscopy done ASAP to ensure that I'm healthy and fit below the equator. So, after a month or so of rescheduling due to flat out panic, I am submitting myself like a death row inmate to the Flying J Truck Stop (isn't that where they are all performed?) tomorrow morning where the doctor will perform this nasty procedure.
Initially I heard that I would be able to sleep through this procedure with the help of anesthetic. Today I learned that this would not be the case. Instead they'll give me a drug to make me "loopy."
(Insert your own joke: Here)
My "procedure" will be tomorrow at 8:30AM (for you well wishers). The evil doctor has asked me to drink a gallon bottle of anti-freeze this evening.
So I am alone with a bottle of anti-freeze and condemned to not stray to far from the indoor terlet.
Should something go horribly wrong, know that I love you all. Blast.
Last Friday I drove to Seattle/Tacoma/Lakewood/Lk.Kachess to visit family. As per usual it was a whirlwind trip with not enough time for me to even charge my camera. So, without a good camera I took the following 11 pictures with my crappy camera phone.
So to use the snappy and popular overused vernacular of the day: "It is what it is."
Brent next to a Ford GT in Issaquah.
Amber and Bing, er...Brent
We went to a Tacoma Rainiers game with Dave and his lovely girlfriend (soon to be "ball and chain) Kristi Bisti
Brent and Brent
We brought Kris McCleod with us and he snagged a foul ball!
Elise is a great cook!! She made me this omelette and yummy potatoes!
I had a submarine sandwich at Elise's house and can you believe it, Michael Jackson appeared in the condiments on my sandwich??? Trippy, I know.
Kind of looks like Weird Al too!
Speaking of Weird Al (nice transition) Here's a picture of Monica Ripley.
Around her (not weird) are: L-R - Kelli, Nicole and Megan.
These gals sang "I'm trying to be like Jesus" in the most beautiful harmony.
Pretty dang talented young ladies here (must get it from their father).
ah yes, the classic blurry phone camera picture.
Nicole Ripley and Brent
Scean had a wound on his nose. Here's a picture of Megan getting ready to pull the bandage off.
I climbed up a rocky vantage point known as "Knob Hill" here in Ketchum and took this picture. You can see Bald Mountain (Sun Valley Skiing) in the background and the headend down below and straight ahead where I work everyday.