A woman described her middle-aged hubby thusly: “He’s 44 inches around the waist, size seven and a half around the head, 95 around the golf course and a nuisance around the house.”
Clever, of course, this play on phrases, but under the thin veneer of humor is a rock-hard truth about waistlines. Many men, as well as women, face ongoing warfare in the battle of bulges, and they’re losing.
Merchandisers of pills, pushers of exercise equipment and calorie-counting doo-dads are showing up at every turn. Yes, tons of adults are going to great heights to avoid great widths. They are tearful when stepping on “guess your weight scales,” only to hear a recorded voice sternly command: “One of you will have to get off.” …
If a true confession truly is good for the soul, then mine is ship shape.
It ‘s an absolute fact that I spent a full decade, from ages 15-25, trying to expand my waistline from 30 to 32 inches. I ate whatever I liked; taking seconds from the dessert tray was likely. (Okay, I’d sometimes grab a third dessert, but out of politeness, usually left a bite or two on the saucer.)
My, how things have changed. I’ve been challenged for three decades to rein in my belt length to 42 inches, sometimes feeling tummy-numbing pressure even after belt-loosening to the very last notch. …
Fitness thoughts invaded my World Series preoccupation in the first inning of the first game. Traipsing across the TV screen was a guy dressed as Santa Claus. He was nimble and quick, this old St. Nick, sprightly dancing for Capital One credit cards.
The bearded geezer was well into rug-cutting, swinging and swaying to the beat of “Staying Alive.”
I leaned forward in my chair, realizing that under that beard, cap and Christmas gear was John Travolta, the guy who made the song famous a full FOUR DECADES AGO! I know what you’re thinking. He may have a gut usually associated with a guy approaching 70 years of age, but he was moving like someone half as old. (Side note: With credit card interest at an all-time high, I’ll not get excited about Capital One or any other credit card, I’m absolutely committed to paying monthly balances in full to avoid paying any interest.) …
In 1974, the great Elvis Presley came to Fort Worth, appearing before a full house at the convention center.
Since my wife would have underwritten a fan club to cop a closer seat, I decided it was worth it to secure stage-side seats. She swears that she caught several drops of “Elvis sweat.”
That explains why she didn’t bathe for a week. …
Anyway, his writhing, contorting, twisting and turning at age 39 seemed to be every bit as crisply executed as when he exploded on stages worldwide almost two decades earlier.
Sure as shootin’, though, he was developing a definite waistline bulge that defines many men approaching age 40. It took more than careful wardrobing to hide it. I’m guessing Travolta has worked harder at remaining trim than Elvis did.
My old daddy never cared much for Presley. He said that when his hound dogs commenced wiggling like Elvis did, he’d give’em worm medicine. …
In baseball, one of the most heralded rookies in history is Texas Rangers’ phenom Evan Carter. A major leaguer since August, the 21-year-old is setting records right and left, and his stats probably indicate a waistline under 30 inches.
Proving that Christian faith and athletic success can go hand in hand, he boldly wears “Jesus Won” t-shirts during warm-ups, and several thousand have been sold. Word has it that his proceeds are going to his favorite organization: The Fellowship of Christian Athletes.
This young man seemingly has it all together, worthy of all the adulation piling up at his feet. Youth is not wasted on this young ‘un they call “the whippet,” an apt nickname for a trim athlete on the front end of greatness.
