|Wait, is that Woody Allen?|
Today was the day of my physical. First, I am delighted to report that there was no -scopy of any kind, rather just a referral and a sixty day window to get that done. Secondly, I can report that I am at my peak. Unfortunately, it's not my good peak so 'tis nothing to crow about.
As I sat on the exam table, scantily clad in a purple paper robe, facing my physician, he painted the following picture of my craptastic peak:
- I am at my heaviest weight ever. I won't reveal the number...yet, but it wasn't good.
- My bad cholesterol levels are the highest they've ever been.
- My good cholesterol level is heading towards ruin faster the Kardashians' sense of propriety.
- I am now approaching "Poster Boy" status for Potential Heart Attack Victim.
- On the bright side, my blood sugar levels were delightful.
In high irony, it was a relief when he stopped that fusillade and moved on to the worst part of the exam. You know the one I'm talking about. The one that the late Joan Rivers riffed on how men really have it easy when they go to the doctor versus what women experience. She said something like this, "A man gets turned over on his stomach. He gets to pretend he's in a spy movie. 'I'll tell you nothing Nazi pig!'" For better or worse, that part of the exam was over in no time, sans a spy movie scenario.
But what is not over is the reality that I am at my craptastic peak. That's not a fun peak upon which to rest because coming down is going to be a nightmare. Usually, when climbing a peak, you nearly break yourself on the way up. It's the hike down off this one that is going to be, well, unpleasant. It's got to be done.
The climb down from Mt. Dadbod starts today.