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Wednesday, 2 February 2011

The Curse of Old Age

I used to think that I wouldn't mind getting older.  It was a natural process.  Everyone gets older, gets a bit more forgetful, gets a bit heavier, gets a bit tireder in the mornings.
Ever since my son (24 years old) moved back into our home last month, I've been feeling even worse.
He can sleep longer, eat more, party hard and get no hangover.  His gut hasn't started to protrude over his belt, and he can eat anything and never seems to suffer from indigestion.
I'm jealous.  As George Bernard Shaw said, "Youth is wasted on the young"

Yesterday really brought it home to me about the perils of aging.

The new dress code in Nuova Lazio
It was the first day when some of our pupils were in Nuova Lazio.  It wasn't a teacher only day, and I thought I'd wear my teacher-type clothes instead of my usual off-duty shorts and T-shirt.  Accordingly, I dressed in a blue linen jacket, white shirt and silk tie, a new pair of dressy cords (from marks and Spencer in the UK) and a new pair of shoes I'd bought in Scotland. (Especially as our Principal had alluded to a new teacher dress code)  I normally dress in the dark so as not to wake my beloved, snoring gently in bed, but I thought this time I'd check my appearance in our big bathroom mirror.
"Looks pretty good", I thought.  Pity about the increase in belly size, maybe I'd eaten too much over the holidays?  A couple of weeks of a slight diet should bring it down.
Set off for school, and I soon began to feel quite uncomfortable.  My trousers were too tight, I'd really have to cut down big time.

This is how I was starting to feel
Even at school, I wasn't really comfortable.  I did my work conscientiously; fixing timetables, getting relieving teachers organised for the year, arranging work and resources for my ICT classes, but I still felt uncomfortable.  I couldn't get comfortable sitting at my desk, or walking around the school, or even having a cup of coffee and a chat to colleagues.  These damn trousers.  My bloody weight.  As the day wore on, my discomfort increased.
Eventually I started home.  Still so uncomfortable, even simply driving.  Everything felt so tight.  That was it.  No more carbohydrates or fats or alcohol.  Complete abstinence from all fat-making foods.  I'd have to loose weight.  This could not go on.  I'd just bought new clothes in the UK, and I wasn't going to start buying again. 
I was so looking forward to getting home and changing into my loose comfortable shorts and T-shirt.

Finally got home and changed, but I didn't feel that much better.  Even my old, comfortably worn gardening shorts felt tight.  No more chocolate or lollies.  Ever.
We had dinner, a really delicious chicken and mushroom stew, and my beloved asked me what was wrong, as I had left half of the rice.  "Cutting down a bit Dear", I'd replied.  She nodded sagely.  "Good idea", she said.
For the rest of the evening I still felt bloated.  I just couldn't get comfortable.  I began to wonder if I'd picked up some sort of tummy-bug, that had caused massive internal inflation.

I'd have to face it.

I was now truly a fat bastard.
I remembered that years ago I'd tried the grapefruit and boiled egg diet, and had lost about 14 pounds in a month.  I wondered if it would work again.
No, I'd better not, as I remembered that my hypertension medication warned against eating much grapefruit.

Getting old sucks.

Time for a shower and bed.

I felt much better under the shower, although my tummy still felt a bit uncomfortable, with what looked like a welt on my skin.  That was what happened when you got too fat and your clothes didn't fit properly.

I now really felt terrible.

I couldn't suffer many days like this.  I'd have to loose weight quickly or buy more (bigger) clothes, or possibly both.

I dried and put on my PJs (Tasteful Tartan) which was great, as I felt comfortable for the first time that day.

I picked up my dirty underclothes and socks to put them in the laundry basket.

Just a minute.

Something was not right.

I didn't recognise those boxer shorts.


They weren't mine, they were my son's.
He wears Medium size, I take Large.


Too Tight
No wonder I'd felt uncomfortable.

At least I wasn't a fat old bastard.

Just a forgetful inattentive old bastard

What a relief.

I wonder if there's any ice cream left in the freezer?


  1. You had me worried there for a while TSB (of RBB).

    1. I always worry myself, so why should you be any different, my old friend.

  2. Very funny although getting into your son's knickers is a bit Freudian is it not?

  3. Laughed all the way through.


    1. So glad. My pain = your gain.


      Just wait until the absent-mindedness strikes.

  4. I thank my lucky stars I'm not absent minded! I would never have made a mistake like that! I never forget anything! I'm always.....Who's calling, please?

  5. Ah, fishducky, I now think it was less absent mindeness and more outright bloody stupidity.

    Absent mindedness was when I was standing in my bedroom, trying to put the butter in my sock drawer while eating a sandwich.

    I'm just grateful it was a piece of cheese in my sandwich and not a pair of my beloved's panties.


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