Obesity

I nearly spat out my broccoli when I realised I was tipping the scales into the realm of obesity! Seriously, who knew the line between “healthy” and “chubby” was thinner than a wafer thin mint? Blame it on BMI, the sneaky little judge of our body’s mass shenanigans. Apparently, if you’re cruising between 18.5 and 24.9, you’re considered a beacon of health. But dare to venture into the 25-29.9 range, and suddenly you’re labelled as “overweight,” like it’s some kind of culinary crime. And oh boy, if you hit the big 3-0 on that scale, you’re not just overweight, you’re shockingly obese—like, “call-the-medics-my-pizza-consumption-is-out-of-hand” obese! And if you manage to break the 40 barrier, well, buckle up folks, because now you’re in the VIP section of the heavyweight championship known as “severe obesity.” Who knew a few extra pounds could land you a ticket to the fat-shaming Olympics?

I actually don’t watch what I eat, I have zero regrets on completing a family size bar of chocolate, but, with obesity comes health issues, and at my age I already suffer from morning paralysis and creaking knees, the last thing my body needed was another stone in weight to lug around.

I’m not sure why I weighed myself or why I thought it mattered that I’d tipped over into obese, because I should have been brighter, I should have realised that the silly BMI targets do not matter, it’s about how one feels. If you feel overweight and you’re getting a bit down because you can’t fit into the clothes you want to wear, or if your weight prevents you from doing things that you want to do, then it matters.

Who gave those scales the authority to dictate my happiness? If you’re feeling like a stuffed turkey and have to lay on the bed to zip up your favourite jeans, or if you’re huffing and puffing after climbing a flight of stairs, then yeah, maybe it’s time to reconsider your relationship with the cream buns. Never let scales ruin your day. Embrace those curves, shimmy into those stretchy pants, and dance like nobody’s watching.

However, a word of caution; as we get older bits start to seize up, it’s as if someone’s forcibly sucked the lubrication out of the joints and added a few pound of bacon fat to the muscles. So, as much as I’m against all forms of unnecessary exercise I decided that the combination of obesity, seizing joints and aching muscles required some form of action before I had to take an awkward shuffle to the recliner.

You’ll know when aging hits you, it will happen one morning, you’ll get out of bed, just like any other day, but today you’ll feel stiffness in your legs, it’s always the legs that go first. In no time at all, the back and arms will follow; back as stiff as a board, arms just hanging down aching; now that’s aging.

But don’t become obsessed with weight; just consider, do you feel comfortable as you are? If not, then the walking group is calling you. Be active, but realistic, don’t even think about the spin class, it’s not worth the time in hospital, find a walking group!