HEALTH
I’m 30 Again and My Wife Doesn’t Like It
Nope, not my age, just my waist
Today I dug through a pile of very old jeans and found two pairs of 30–30 to put aside. The rest were mostly 32–30 and 33–30; I’ll be putting those in a clothing collection box the next time I go out.
I can wear the 30 inch waist again.
Really, I’ve been able to for months, but I’ve been cinching up my belt and tugging the 32’s up all day because I wanted to make sure I am really there, that the weight and the waist aren’t coming back.
I am really there.
I’m happy about that. It’s required years of cutting calories — no keto, Atkins, or anything like that — and exercise, but I’m there again, back where I was as a young man. If I had to attribute my success to only one thing, I’d give the award to retirement. No more work stress, no more hours of driving, no more fast food on the road, plenty of free time for exercise.
There are some wrinkles though, mostly on my face. I look older.
Sometimes a mirror or a reflection in a glass window will catch me by surprise and an involuntary “Whoah!” will leak out. When we do a FaceTime with our daughters I wonder who that old man on the couch beside my wife could be.
