SHIFTAGE
One of the most interesting things I have noticed in my retirement, is the fact that my body has not been behaving like it once did. I am noticing that it is much more difficult to shed pounds, but find that I have mastered the art of gaining with ease. Perhaps it is my insatiable appetite to snack at 10:30 at night and the fact that I can’t seem to get to the gym because I am so busy doing nothing. I have also noticed that I have been plagued with what I term as “shiftage”. I believe it is the body’s way of telling me that it is getting tired of holding up muscles over the past 69 years, thus, it will now allow for bodily shifting, where the lower part of my body is taking on the weight of the upper torso. My summation here, is that I need to be more attuned to my food consumption as to try to slow down this parasitic attack on my body. And for the record, I will say that this disease is not isolated solely to me, as I do get out on occasion, and notice that my peers are all suffering from the same ailment, some a lot worse than me.
As some of you already know, and for those that are fortunately younger and have not experienced retirement, one of the great things to look forward to is going out to dinner with friends. Typically, most of my friends are roughly the same age, and are all experiencing this attack on our bodies. Now, dinner in restaurants can be extremely dangerous in this fight to ward off the shift. Usually, five courses at a minimum. Opening cocktail, Appetizer, cocktail refresher, salad, possibly another cocktail, main course, and then the dreaded DESSERT.
I am going to focus on the final course now as I find the human reaction by the dining participants quite interesting. Typically after a fine meal, gluttony and inebriation, the waiter comes in for the kill. “Anyone ready for dessert?” or “how about some sweets?” he inquires. As the diners all proceed to look down at their napkins, avoiding any eye contact with the other participants, there is a hesitant and forgiving murmur of “nah couldn’t have another thing”. But wait, usually there is one brave soul, someone identifying as a man, who will demand that each party orally announce their sincere feelings regarding the topic at hand. As everyone looks at each other like puppies looking for a snack, he will then suggest that the waiter leave the menu. The waiter leaves, and in true deflection, conversation continues. Slowly but surely, at least one member at the table will tiptoe his fingers to the deadly menu. Without a second to waste, as he peruses the laundry list of delectable choices, he wonders out loud to the group when the last time anyone had key lime pie. The murmuring begins again, but this time with a little more zest. “Ooh that sounds good, or “is there anything with ice cream” or “do they have Italian cheesecake or just American?” they inquire. Of course, these are the same people that no more than 5 minutes ago all said how they could not eat another thing.
Upon the return of the waiter, the question is no longer, “room for dessert?” but how many do we order. With the woman all announcing their disgust of even the thought of this decadence, the men decide to order their coffees, espressos, and yes, give me one key lime pie and do you have tartufo? We can share those. The sigh of relief from all parties, especially including the women, is deafening. No one really wanted to skip dessert, no matter what the outcome would be. Everyone internally rationalizing that if we get a tartufo and it is divided in 4, then I am really only eating ¼ of the dessert, or, I don’t really like key lime pie so perhaps just a taste. With such little consumption, how much damage could there possibly be? Perhaps an extra sit up tomorrow or maybe add on another 10 minutes to my walk. Yep, that’s the answer, so in the meantime, Waiter, can I have another spoon?