Every time I look I the mirror, I understand that genetics has made me who I am, I realise that this is the way I must look. I only understood this for definite when I found my Bio-dad (see last April’s A-Z Challenge on Adoption last year; if you really want to you will find) and once I found him I realised that there is another person in the world whom I resemble, well 2 if you include my sister; my brother was always told he was raised by dolphins as he resembles neither or either of us.
My Bio Dad has wrinkles of an adventurous outdoor working life well lived, and having just retired, hopefully many years of fun ahead; he’s certainly one of the most holidayed men I know! I too have a job which takes me out side most of the days of the year and I now have a tacit acceptation that this is the way my outer shell will be; how I shall erode and appreciate. I look at the man in the mirror and understand that my, once willowy frame, is made with the perception that bulk may well be on its way, in fact is well and truly here.
But here to stay? Who knows, I’d hope not.
I saw a group photo of the team as we dined out at the “Corriander Lounge” last week, gorging ourselves on curry, spending the maximum amount of overnight allowance we could; up to £25 incorporating 1 alcoholic drink. Against all the rules, my rules, of eating out I had a starter, a main, a side dish and loads of other people’s food to boot. At the end of the meal I had no room for anything else and, like Mr Creosote, could not even absorb a “wafer thin mint”. The photo of our group, shows me looking this way, or it is how I perceive the photo and something has to give, soon, I’ll give my self a heart attack at this rate for fuck’s sake.
So moving into day 3 of my wonderful daughter’s half term week of all dinner preparation; portion control, snacking control and water control are at the forefront of my mind.
I have a tacit belief that if I want to see a little more of my toes this year going forward I will have to take action. I’ve got a running machine with a basket of laundry on, I’ve got some running shoes, I’ve got my health so far, fingers and afore mentioned toes crossed; this will be the first week of the rest of my life.
On my marks, Get Set…. GO!!
The Count Of North Clifton 