SEVEN POUNDS UNTIL SUMMER: SUMER IS ICUMEN IN WITH SIX-PACK ABS

 

AT THE CURE

My blog title today is my new mid-section mantra:  Seven pounds until summer:  sumer is icumen in with six-pack abs. This “Sumer is icumen in” is from my university English Medieval Literature days: The Cuckoo Song (W. de Wycombe, 1261).

Note, dear reader, that I am not stating the obvious pun of Middle Ages and my mid-section because I am no longer middle-aged, and therefore no longer burdened with a middle-aged mid-section. Alas, and certainly not by my design, I have become a senior citizen with a noticeably bulging mid-section.  (I only mentioned my mid-section along with Middle Ages as my tactical employment of “apophasis,” that literary device that allows me the pleasure of mentioning something by saying I will not mention it. For example, dear readers, I will not remind you that I am a very gifted busker both with my pencil and guitar.  Such bragging is not endearing to anyone in my reading audience.)  So, saying this, “seven pounds until summer, and sumer is icumen in with six-pack abs” shall begrudgingly suffice.  Busking outside in the sunshine wearing blue jeans and white t-shirt, looking good (physically) becomes my signature costume.  Enacting this alterity becomes my busking persona.

BUSKING IN 2016

Summer is, indeed, coming in and I think, too, so are my imaginary thorax six-pack abs soon becoming my reality.  I claim to be neither an authority on food nor fitness.  Nope.  I am not a nutritionist – I am a foodie; I am not a fitness trainer – I am a fitness freak.  Being quite into fitness since the early ‘70s, I know for me that weight loss can be accomplished through better eating habits than by better fitness habits.

You need to burn 3500 calories to lose one pound of weight.  To burn 3500 calories demands physical and psychological exercise. Here is the skinny on calories and weight loss. For example:  Ten thousand steps will burn 500 calories.  Ten thousand steps per day for one week (500 calories X 7 = 3500 calories) will burn one pound of body weight.  That is a lot of walking!

*A disclaimer at this point is necessary:  Not that an exercise regimen should not be included in any weight loss, I am just stating that weight loss by design ought to begin with a change-up of eating behaviors.

I shall repeat: Weight loss can be accomplished through better eating habits than by better fitness habits. Deciding to count and document my daily calories should curb my enthusiasm for gormandizing.  I am convinced that the skinny of weight loss is to adopt better eating habits, and that means consuming fewer calories until gaining the desired weight loss. The Harvard Health Guide (Harvard University) offers a trick to measure the necessary daily caloric intake to maintain a person’s body weight: 

Simply multiply your body weight by 15. 

For me then, 172 pounds X 15 = 2580 calories per day. 

I am dangerously determining that weight loss can easily be calculated by likening my body to a bank, and then monitoring a caloric bank-body account, so to speak.  To keep my weight as is, I need to consume 2580 calories per day.  Depositing more than 2580 calories daily into my body account will result in a weight gain, whereas, depositing fewer calories into my body account will result in a weight loss.  I guess we shall soon see!

MARCH 21^ST

On this first full day of spring, upon wakening at 5:30 A.M. I carried on my morning coffee ritual. I sipped an Americano coffee (15 cal) and then a cappuccino (55 cal) while reading the latest news (CNN, Huffington Post, Al Jazzera, NBC, ABC, and even FOX) on my iPhone.  Typically, I after following the newsfeeds, I ten-minute a bout of French with Duolingo, a scroll through my Instagram, and I close with the today obituaries.   At 10:30ish I drank two glasses of water and one cup of hot chocolate (200 cal) and chomped two bananas (200 cal).  Lunchtime I consumed one bowl of lettuce salad (20 cal) and three very small barbequed chicken breasts (300 cal).  Suppertime, I devoured two bowls of hamburger stew (200 cal), along with two thinly buttered dinner buns, and an hour later followed by a Tim Hortons London Fog (150 cal).  I had a protein shake (110 cal) for a nightcap.

Total calories = 1435

Weight today: 172.0 pounds

MARCH 22^ND

5:30 A.M. I read the blah blah Trump news on my iPhone while sipping two cups of Americano coffee (30 cal).  At 8:00 A.M. I drank a Tim Hortons medium size hot chocolate (200 cal) and at 10:00 A.M. had a banana (100 cal).  Lunchtime I helped myself to two slices of French toast poured over with a thimbleful of syrup (500 cal).    Suppertime I had two slices of hamburger pizza (600 cal), washed down with a fruit smoothie (150 cal).  An hour later I gulped down a London Fog (150 cal), and just before bed I munched two bowls of plain nachos smothered in salsa (600 cal) while watching Ted Lasso on the telly.

Total calories = 2330

Weight today: 170.0 pounds

(So far so good!)

MARCH 23^RD

5:30 A.M. Caught up on my Instagram while sipping two cappuccinos (110 cal).  At work I quaffed a hot chocolate (150 cal) and skipped the usual banana.  Lunchtime I ate two small bowls of chile (500 cal) washed down with two cups of cold Adam’s Ale.  Instead of supper I had a London Fog from Tim Hortons (150 cal) and later on a bowl of dried apricots (500 cal), two bowls of plain nachos with salsa (600 cal), all of which washed down with a chocolate protein drink (170 cal).

Total calories = 2180

Weight today: 169.0 pounds

(Hmmm. Getting there …)

All of this above is not an Aesopian tale.  This blog entry has no hidden meaning or message. Regarding this food-stand (pun intended), I must proclaim that I am not your pedestrian-thinking mugwamp! (A mugwamp is one who is undecided.  A mugwamp is one who is a fence-sitter, whose mug is on one side and whose wump is on the other!)

The skinny of my seven – pound weight loss proposal is simply this:  In my typical narcissistic fashion, I do not want to ever experience the social stigma of being the old guy with the skinny arms and the paunch. Rather, I do want to be and only want to be (my narcissism exposed) that guy with the six-pack abs!

And based upon my personal empirical evidence, to become that guy with the six-pack abs, I need to cut the junk food. 

NO MORE CHIPS + NO MORE CHOCOLATE

 = SIX-PACK ABS!

 "Sumer Is Icumen In!"

EXISTENTIAL DREAD: 'TIL DEATH DO US PART

 

BARON AND SELF AT THE CURE

I am getting old enough to know that age is not just a number.  Oh sure, I still run and swim and box and downhill ski and ride my bike, but I am not delusional about my aging.  I know that my life is finite, and my personal aging I have classified as a classic YIN and YANG life scenario.  I live until I die.  Or to put it into a more universal perspective: WE LIVE until WE DIE.

Existential dread?  Hmmm … maybe.  Methinks if such thoughts were continuously tormenting me, then this would be existential dread.  However, until such time of torment, I shall simply refer to it as existential awareness.

Looking around, I cannot help but be existentially aware, as I see others of my folk singer-songwriter ilk in age, certainly not in ability, still hitting the stage.  Still thrumming and strumming and singing are American singer-songwriters KRIS KRISTOFFERSON and BOBBY DYLAN, who are 86 and 79 years old, respectively, and Canadian singer-songwriters GORDON LIGHTFOOT, NEIL YOUNG, and ROBBIE ROBERTSON, who are 84, 77, and 79 years old, respectively.

Sadly, my all-time favorite, IAN TYSON, just recently exited stage left when he died at 89.

Please note, dear reader, that I dare compare myself to the likes of Kristofferson, Dylan, Lightfoot, Young, Robertson, and Tyson because we are all plotted along, in linear fashion, the same singer-songwriter continuum, left to right in terms of quality, left to right in terms of my Yin-Yang world of life and death.

In my YIN-YANG world, the live folks are YANG; IAN TYSON is YIN.

IAN TYSON BACK IN THE '60S

Enough of this – ‘Tis time for more yang.  Marching in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week:

First up is Lily.  Lovely, lovely, Lily.  Lily is a stand-up comedian who frequents several stages in and around Regina.  She is witty; she is funny; she is ever-efficient and effervescent; she is the fast-on-her-feet host of open mics at THE CURE, a bar in downtown REGINA SK.

LILY

And then comes David, another stand-up comedian marching in my parade.  David is funny, funny, funny and his squeaky-clean stage humor appeals to practically every member of his audience.  David, like Lily, is a regular host at my favorite open mic, THE CURE in downtown Regina.

DAVID

Next marching in my parade is Rebecca, who has an office just down the street from my workplace.  Rebecca is academically brilliant.  This I know for sure -- she was a student in one of the Psychology classes when I was a sessional professor at the University of Regina. Currently, she is very well-known and always a very sought after policy analyst for a national organization.  

REBECCA

Of course, in the spirit of this blog title, EXISTENTIAL DREAD: ‘TIL DEATH DO US PART, I just had to draw my publisher’s mom, who just recently parted.

MY PUBLISHER'S MOM

The last marcher is my childhood friend, Larry, the TEENAGE IDOL and HOCKEY LEGEND of our hometown who, too, just recently departed.  Larry was tall, dark, and Hollywood handsome, a super athlete who played in the Western Hockey League (REGINA PATS) when he was just 15 years old.  In every regard, Larry was THE GUY.

LARRY

And here I am, still YANG in lots of ways.  Actively reflecting on this, for whatever reasons my avocations of hypnotherapy and skiing and writing are slowly but surely transforming into my vocations.  Reflecting on this, as my infirm will wax, my bailiwick of blogs and bluster will wane.   Introspectively, I must close by channeling Satchel Paige:

How old would I be if I didn’t know how old I was?  

I should not really be looking back too much because something existentially dreadful might be gaining on me!