As you may have noticed, I have not blogged for months. It's not that I've been busy. I haven't been busy for 7 years. And it's not that I'm lazy...I am lazy, but that's not why I haven't blogged. The cause of my blogblock was the total absence of blogworthy experiences. I didn't want to squander any of my 10 waking hours writing about minutia when I had so much to contribute to global well being. Why should I write a blog, when I could better allocate the time to making micro loans to Pakistani women, teasing out a new two state solution for Israel and inventing a silencer for the shrieking alarm on subway emergency gates?
After much soul searching, I realized that my blog and global well being are not mutually exclusive goals. I'm very close to getting looms. I've redrawn the map of the middle east, of course preserving Israel's security,and will shortly submit it to Hillary for her input. The silencer is only in its conceptual phase but the production stage is imminent. Having accomplished so much for the greater world, I can now refocus on my own little domain.
You can tell it's Spring. The fruit man is back on the corner of 14th Street and Eighth Avenue having wintered in Bangladesh. I know where he wintered because, to be polite, I asked him. Mistake. I'm now his friend. Maybe even his BFF. Our new relationship entitles him not only to overcharge me for the cherries but to complain about his other customers. "You see that? You see that?" He says everything twice while pointing to the culprit. "That's why I don't like to do business here. That's why I don't like to do business here." I never know what malfeasance the fruitbuyer has committed. As far as I can tell, he bought a banana. I wouldn't care about the fruitist's rant, but I'm sure that as soon as I walk away with my cherries, he'll tattle to his other bffs about some nefarious act of mine. "Did you see that? Did you see that? She sampled a grape. She sampled a grape."
It being Spring, the woman who begs near my office on Williams Street, is also back. I don't know where she wintered, but Creedmore seems a good bet. Ordinarily, someone poor enough to beg would warrant my sympathy, if not my money. Not her. I hate her. How can I hate a poor beggar, you ask? Today, when I walked past her without giving her money, she screamed, "You cunt." And to make sure I knew she was serious, she then yelled,"You really are a cunt." I'm not without a heart and this outburst alone from an obvious lunatic would not elicit hate, but it comes after last spring's daily outburst,"You need to color your hair. Your roots are showing." I could accept the "cunt" as a general epithet she uses for all women. But the roots? That was personal.
Writing today's blog has sharpened my perspective teaching me that some problems are more important to solve than others. First thing tomorrow, I'm coloring my hair.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Guide to Retirement-Part IV-Doctor Appointments
During your working years, you avoided doctor visits. You tried not to squander precious vacation time on rectal examinations. Things are different now. A colonoscopy can be a splendid way to wile away a few hours. In your excitement at this news, don't run to the phone and start making appointments willy nilly. You're engaging in a complicated endeavor. You need a modus operandi.
First, make no appointments before noon. This rule applies to all engagements, not just doctor appointments. You rushed for your entire working life. Why do it now? Relax. Sip your coffee.(See Guide to Retirement-Part III.)Afford yourself several leisurely hours to locate your glasses, metrocard, keys.
Second,no matter how delightful you find doctor appointments, limit yourself to one per week. If you erroneously schedule more than one per week, you run the risk of running out of doctors to go to. I recently slipped up and saw a dermatologist on a Monday and a cardiologist on a Wednesday. Fearful of a week looming without an appointment, I was compelled to secure a referral for 10 physical therapy visits to get me through any dry spells.
Third, the day of a doctor visit should be devoted solely to that visit. As a general rule, you should not plan on doing more than one activity per day. If you have a endocrinologist appointment don't argue with Con Ed about your overcharges. That's an endeavor for another day. If you're in Pintchik shopping for a new toilet seat, don't even think of looking at paint chips. Save those for tomorrow. In this manner, you will never run out of fun activities to do.
Fourth, make a list of all the doctors you will need to see. Start with your feet and work your way up your body. (This is also an excellent way to pack a suitcase.)Make up a plausible complaint that necessitates each specialty on the list. You have a stabbing pain in your fourth toe.Your knees hurt going down the stairs. You pee excessively. You're constipated. Podiatrist, orthopedist, urologist, gastroenterologist.Get a referral for each. You should have at least 10 to start. I know that's barely enough, but, don't worry, each specialist will refer you elsewhere and, if you're lucky, you'll end up with 35-40.
The above plan will do more to stave off dementia than sudoku and crossword puzzles. You'll engage your brain with complex scheduling and symptom creation and you'll exercise your body by walking to your appointments. You'll be so exhausted from the doctor appointments, you'll sleep like the dead. Whoops, bad analogy. You have a wonderful old age in front of you.
Caveat: If you are really sick, disregard the above and consult www.mayoclinic.com. You may actually learn something.
First, make no appointments before noon. This rule applies to all engagements, not just doctor appointments. You rushed for your entire working life. Why do it now? Relax. Sip your coffee.(See Guide to Retirement-Part III.)Afford yourself several leisurely hours to locate your glasses, metrocard, keys.
Second,no matter how delightful you find doctor appointments, limit yourself to one per week. If you erroneously schedule more than one per week, you run the risk of running out of doctors to go to. I recently slipped up and saw a dermatologist on a Monday and a cardiologist on a Wednesday. Fearful of a week looming without an appointment, I was compelled to secure a referral for 10 physical therapy visits to get me through any dry spells.
Third, the day of a doctor visit should be devoted solely to that visit. As a general rule, you should not plan on doing more than one activity per day. If you have a endocrinologist appointment don't argue with Con Ed about your overcharges. That's an endeavor for another day. If you're in Pintchik shopping for a new toilet seat, don't even think of looking at paint chips. Save those for tomorrow. In this manner, you will never run out of fun activities to do.
Fourth, make a list of all the doctors you will need to see. Start with your feet and work your way up your body. (This is also an excellent way to pack a suitcase.)Make up a plausible complaint that necessitates each specialty on the list. You have a stabbing pain in your fourth toe.Your knees hurt going down the stairs. You pee excessively. You're constipated. Podiatrist, orthopedist, urologist, gastroenterologist.Get a referral for each. You should have at least 10 to start. I know that's barely enough, but, don't worry, each specialist will refer you elsewhere and, if you're lucky, you'll end up with 35-40.
The above plan will do more to stave off dementia than sudoku and crossword puzzles. You'll engage your brain with complex scheduling and symptom creation and you'll exercise your body by walking to your appointments. You'll be so exhausted from the doctor appointments, you'll sleep like the dead. Whoops, bad analogy. You have a wonderful old age in front of you.
Caveat: If you are really sick, disregard the above and consult www.mayoclinic.com. You may actually learn something.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Guide to Retirement-Part III-F*** is a Dirty Word
If you're reading this, you've been starting your day with a quick infusion of coffee for at least 35 years. If you want a long, healthy retirement, this must stop. Not the coffee. You need it now more than ever. When you were working, you could have abstained from coffee. Your competence and experience enabled you to do your work in your sleep. You're new at the retirement game. You need to apply yourself. You don't want to spend your last 30 years of life in a caffeine free stupor. You'll have eternity to switch to Ovaltine.
I'm suggesting, no MANDATING, that you drink coffee differently. You used to "gulp" or "chug" you coffee, both verbs implying speed. You are retired. You may NEVER again perform any activity quickly. "Fast" is a dirty word. You have lots of time. Fill it productively by doing everything slowly. Did you pick up a grande at Starbucks and drink it while walking to the subway? Did you buy a latte and imbibe it while driving? You may NEVER again multitask. You want to enlarge the time spent for each activity, not reduce it. Some multitaskers have been known to return to part time work just to fill their time. Unfortunately, this column is too late for them.
From now on, you will allot 1.5 to 2 hours for your morning coffee. You will need a 16 ounce thermal mug. Unless you used instant coffee(remember, "instant" implies speed,)use whatever method you have always used to make coffee. Decant the coffee to the thermal mug. Move to the couch. The coffee will remain at the boiling point for 27 minutes, during which time you may take only tentative tiny sips. Larger sips will require a 911 call. Watch the Today Show if you're up for news. If it's a retro chuckle you want, "I Dream of Jeannie" is now on TV Land. (Just to be clear, watching mindless TV while eating or drinking does not constitute multitasking. Listening to NPR,on the other hand, is a borderline violation of the no multitasking rule.) At the 28th minute, when the coffee has reached 160 degrees, you may take slightly larger sips. Careful, you don't want a blister on your tongue. After an hour, change the channel. The coffee is now cool enough to drink without fear of an emergency room visit. Savor it while you're planning your day's activities. Lunch? Gastroenterologist? You're retired. The sky's the limit.
I'm suggesting, no MANDATING, that you drink coffee differently. You used to "gulp" or "chug" you coffee, both verbs implying speed. You are retired. You may NEVER again perform any activity quickly. "Fast" is a dirty word. You have lots of time. Fill it productively by doing everything slowly. Did you pick up a grande at Starbucks and drink it while walking to the subway? Did you buy a latte and imbibe it while driving? You may NEVER again multitask. You want to enlarge the time spent for each activity, not reduce it. Some multitaskers have been known to return to part time work just to fill their time. Unfortunately, this column is too late for them.
From now on, you will allot 1.5 to 2 hours for your morning coffee. You will need a 16 ounce thermal mug. Unless you used instant coffee(remember, "instant" implies speed,)use whatever method you have always used to make coffee. Decant the coffee to the thermal mug. Move to the couch. The coffee will remain at the boiling point for 27 minutes, during which time you may take only tentative tiny sips. Larger sips will require a 911 call. Watch the Today Show if you're up for news. If it's a retro chuckle you want, "I Dream of Jeannie" is now on TV Land. (Just to be clear, watching mindless TV while eating or drinking does not constitute multitasking. Listening to NPR,on the other hand, is a borderline violation of the no multitasking rule.) At the 28th minute, when the coffee has reached 160 degrees, you may take slightly larger sips. Careful, you don't want a blister on your tongue. After an hour, change the channel. The coffee is now cool enough to drink without fear of an emergency room visit. Savor it while you're planning your day's activities. Lunch? Gastroenterologist? You're retired. The sky's the limit.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Guide to Retirement-Part II-Preparedness
You're ready to retire, but you've heard cautionary tales about people who retire and are dead six months later. You're scared. Don't be. The newly retired deceased("NRD") are no longer with us because they failed to prepare for retirement. Did you take the algebra regents without studying? Of course not. You'd now be in your 44th year of high school. The NRD naively thought they could walk into retirement cold. Instead, they were carried out cold.
The overarching principle of retirement is that the same activities you previously performed while working will now be performed in a manner so different as to be unrecognizable. Because of its importance,we'll start with exercise.
You've reached retirement age so your arteries can't be totally occluded. You must have exercised. Maybe(albeit unlikely) you frequented a gym. Made a sprint for the bus here. Looped an endless circle around Ikea there But have you ever performed a marathon? You will now.The only new equipment you will need is a pedometer.
You will leave the bedroom to do something in the kitchen. You will arrive at the kitchen but forget what it was you came into the kitchen for. You will walk back toward the bedroom hoping the setting will jog your memory. It won't. But you will recall that you left the paper with the movie listings in the living room and you will go to retrieve it. You can't read the listings because your reading glasses are either in the bathroom, bedroom, kitchen or your pocketbook. You'll rifle through every room and purse to no avail. Terrific! Look at the pedometer. You've logged 2.3 miles and, almost as good, you found an unexpired 20% off coupon for Filene's basement. To keep fit, you'll perform many repetitions daily. For the metrocard. The cell phone.The Nook. At the end of the day, raise your hands in victory, throw a thermal blanket over your shoulder and meet a friend for a beer. You've completed a marathon. Oh, you can't find your keys? One and 1/2 marathons.
Stay tuned for future columns: "You're Drinking Your Coffee Too Fast," "Appointments Before Noon. NOT" and "Your Cat Is Right; When in Doubt, Nap."
The overarching principle of retirement is that the same activities you previously performed while working will now be performed in a manner so different as to be unrecognizable. Because of its importance,we'll start with exercise.
You've reached retirement age so your arteries can't be totally occluded. You must have exercised. Maybe(albeit unlikely) you frequented a gym. Made a sprint for the bus here. Looped an endless circle around Ikea there But have you ever performed a marathon? You will now.The only new equipment you will need is a pedometer.
You will leave the bedroom to do something in the kitchen. You will arrive at the kitchen but forget what it was you came into the kitchen for. You will walk back toward the bedroom hoping the setting will jog your memory. It won't. But you will recall that you left the paper with the movie listings in the living room and you will go to retrieve it. You can't read the listings because your reading glasses are either in the bathroom, bedroom, kitchen or your pocketbook. You'll rifle through every room and purse to no avail. Terrific! Look at the pedometer. You've logged 2.3 miles and, almost as good, you found an unexpired 20% off coupon for Filene's basement. To keep fit, you'll perform many repetitions daily. For the metrocard. The cell phone.The Nook. At the end of the day, raise your hands in victory, throw a thermal blanket over your shoulder and meet a friend for a beer. You've completed a marathon. Oh, you can't find your keys? One and 1/2 marathons.
Stay tuned for future columns: "You're Drinking Your Coffee Too Fast," "Appointments Before Noon. NOT" and "Your Cat Is Right; When in Doubt, Nap."
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Guide to Retirement-Part 1
Planning to retire? Delighted to leave a lifetime of remunerated boredom, but terrified that unpaid, unstructured tedium may be worse? Fret no more. I promise you a perfect retirement, if you commit yourself totally to my program.
Let's start with what you must NOT do.
Do NOT, under any circumstances including, but not limited to an interminable wait for a colonscopy, read AARP Magazine. That publication has a twofold stealth agenda: the deification of productivity and the demonization of sloth. It will seductively suggest that finding a hobby will enrich your life. It won't. If a hobby were enriching, you would have already had one. Needlework will make you blind and, in many cases, produce blood poisoning. Knitting? You'll look like Grandma Moses and be called Madame Defarge. And sports? Pu-lease! Millions who should know that moving faster than a saunter is potentially life threatening drop dead on a shuffleboard court. Even scarier, a poorly placed shuttlecock can take all pleasure out of your declining years. So, no hobbies.
Even more vital, do NOT reinvent yourself. Reinventions are like changed answers on a test--usually wrong. If you always wanted to act, but never had the time, do NOT start now. You are not Betty White. You're convinced there is a Nora Ephron hidden beneath your dour exterior? There isn't, so don't start a blog. Don't even think of taking classes you always wanted to take. You're forgetting that once you graduated, you swore you'd never enter a classroom again. Why do you think NYU School of Continuing Education has a 20 gazillion dollar endowment? Enrolling in an adult education class is like buying a gym membership--you'll be enthusiastic for two weeks, you'll be proud of the new you and by the third week you'll remember that although you really should go, Chanukah is coming in 10 months and you urgently need to polish your menorah.
Lastly, do NOT look for a part time job. If you enjoyed working so much, you wouldn't have retired. You're just scared of free time. Don't fall for the employer who crows "we love older workers." Nobody loves older workers. Even older workers don't love older workers. What the employer loves is someone he can exploit. Who wouldn't want a retired CPA auditing a financial statement for $12 an hour? Trust me, if work sucked when you were earning $100,000 a year, it won't enthrall you at $15,000.
You know what you shouldn't do. You're off to a fine start, but you're probably a bit nervous because you have no affirmative plan. Don't worry. I will provide one. But in the meantime, promise me you will not read any books with the word "Retirement" in the title no matter how authoritative they sound. Not " How To Have A Fulfilling Retirement," not "Retirement And Death-A Road map(including forms for end of life directives) " and not even "What Your Retirement Means for Your Dog." They sound well meaning, but they are the devil's work. Read them and your retirement will be the ninth circle of hell. I promise you heaven.
Let's start with what you must NOT do.
Do NOT, under any circumstances including, but not limited to an interminable wait for a colonscopy, read AARP Magazine. That publication has a twofold stealth agenda: the deification of productivity and the demonization of sloth. It will seductively suggest that finding a hobby will enrich your life. It won't. If a hobby were enriching, you would have already had one. Needlework will make you blind and, in many cases, produce blood poisoning. Knitting? You'll look like Grandma Moses and be called Madame Defarge. And sports? Pu-lease! Millions who should know that moving faster than a saunter is potentially life threatening drop dead on a shuffleboard court. Even scarier, a poorly placed shuttlecock can take all pleasure out of your declining years. So, no hobbies.
Even more vital, do NOT reinvent yourself. Reinventions are like changed answers on a test--usually wrong. If you always wanted to act, but never had the time, do NOT start now. You are not Betty White. You're convinced there is a Nora Ephron hidden beneath your dour exterior? There isn't, so don't start a blog. Don't even think of taking classes you always wanted to take. You're forgetting that once you graduated, you swore you'd never enter a classroom again. Why do you think NYU School of Continuing Education has a 20 gazillion dollar endowment? Enrolling in an adult education class is like buying a gym membership--you'll be enthusiastic for two weeks, you'll be proud of the new you and by the third week you'll remember that although you really should go, Chanukah is coming in 10 months and you urgently need to polish your menorah.
Lastly, do NOT look for a part time job. If you enjoyed working so much, you wouldn't have retired. You're just scared of free time. Don't fall for the employer who crows "we love older workers." Nobody loves older workers. Even older workers don't love older workers. What the employer loves is someone he can exploit. Who wouldn't want a retired CPA auditing a financial statement for $12 an hour? Trust me, if work sucked when you were earning $100,000 a year, it won't enthrall you at $15,000.
You know what you shouldn't do. You're off to a fine start, but you're probably a bit nervous because you have no affirmative plan. Don't worry. I will provide one. But in the meantime, promise me you will not read any books with the word "Retirement" in the title no matter how authoritative they sound. Not " How To Have A Fulfilling Retirement," not "Retirement And Death-A Road map(including forms for end of life directives) " and not even "What Your Retirement Means for Your Dog." They sound well meaning, but they are the devil's work. Read them and your retirement will be the ninth circle of hell. I promise you heaven.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Happy New Year To All
I used to be of average intelligence. I could do simple math, function independently and follow instructions for setting up the toaster oven my parents got in 1970 for opening up a savings account.
I'm no longer average. I've either become an imbecile or everyone else has become a genius. How do they know how to tweet? How do they know how to download...or is it upload... a podcast? How do they know how to find useful apps? How do they know what apps are? How do they get their cameras out of video mode? If they can take still photos, how do they get them from the camera into a wallet? I could go on and on with more questions, but you get the idea. The twenty first century has left me in the dust.
Can it be that everyone born subsequent to 1975 has a genetic mutation that enables them to intuit the workings of all new technology? Or is it that they read the manuals? Either way, I'm screwed. I'm too old for the mutation and too terrified to read the manuals. If I were to read the manual and still couldn't work the device, I would be certifiably stupid. If I don't read the manual, I can convince myself that if only I had read it, I would be able to punctuate a text message.
I have never been in the vanguard of adopting new technology. But, there is some technology I couldn't embrace quickly enough. Cash machines, for example. The motivation was twofold-being able to get cash on weekends and never again having to wait for the teller to count out the 702 singles for the blind person in front of me cashing her social security check. It was also love at first sight for cordless phones. I could actually pick up a call in the living room, continue it while paying my bills in the den and conclude it several hours later having finished a master's thesis. A few well placed "aha's" and the caller was convinced of my undivided attention. Recently, I received a Nook,Barnes and Noble's e-reader, as a gift, and I'm in love with it. Sure I would not be able to work it, I waited three weeks to take it out of the box. Knowing the manual would intimidate me, I went to Barnes and Noble and played dumb--not a stretch- and told the salesperson I had no idea how to get a book onto it or to read it, should I manage to get a book onto it. Experienced in dealing with the slow, she showed me how do magically download a book and read it. I take it everywhere, as much because it makes me feel like a techie as because it alleviates the need to carry around the 900 page Pillars of the Earth.
If I am to make even the feeblest attempt to use new technology, history shows I need sufficient motivation. Before going to Spain last spring, I bought my first digital camera. Unfortunately, somehow, prior to the first shot, it went on video mode and I came home with 120 videos,55 of flamenco dancing which is not one of my favorite dance forms, and the remaining videos of the inside of my tote bag. I shelved the camera permanently. In J&R, while I was buying a camera as a gift, a customer asked the salesman if the camera had a setting for "beauty." Curious, I asked what the setting did and the customer said,"it removes wrinkles and gives you a flawless complexion. I'll show you." She took my picture. I had been given a fabulous, painless face lift. Had I been dressed appropriately and been 9" taller I would have hightailed it to Ford Modeling.
I am now determined to find where I stashed the camera, figure out how to charge it and look for"beauty." It would have remained shelved, if like ordinary cameras, it showed you "truth." Who in her right mind wants truth in a camera. For "beauty," I'll read the manual.
Wishing you all health, wealth, happiness and beauty in the new year.
I'm no longer average. I've either become an imbecile or everyone else has become a genius. How do they know how to tweet? How do they know how to download...or is it upload... a podcast? How do they know how to find useful apps? How do they know what apps are? How do they get their cameras out of video mode? If they can take still photos, how do they get them from the camera into a wallet? I could go on and on with more questions, but you get the idea. The twenty first century has left me in the dust.
Can it be that everyone born subsequent to 1975 has a genetic mutation that enables them to intuit the workings of all new technology? Or is it that they read the manuals? Either way, I'm screwed. I'm too old for the mutation and too terrified to read the manuals. If I were to read the manual and still couldn't work the device, I would be certifiably stupid. If I don't read the manual, I can convince myself that if only I had read it, I would be able to punctuate a text message.
I have never been in the vanguard of adopting new technology. But, there is some technology I couldn't embrace quickly enough. Cash machines, for example. The motivation was twofold-being able to get cash on weekends and never again having to wait for the teller to count out the 702 singles for the blind person in front of me cashing her social security check. It was also love at first sight for cordless phones. I could actually pick up a call in the living room, continue it while paying my bills in the den and conclude it several hours later having finished a master's thesis. A few well placed "aha's" and the caller was convinced of my undivided attention. Recently, I received a Nook,Barnes and Noble's e-reader, as a gift, and I'm in love with it. Sure I would not be able to work it, I waited three weeks to take it out of the box. Knowing the manual would intimidate me, I went to Barnes and Noble and played dumb--not a stretch- and told the salesperson I had no idea how to get a book onto it or to read it, should I manage to get a book onto it. Experienced in dealing with the slow, she showed me how do magically download a book and read it. I take it everywhere, as much because it makes me feel like a techie as because it alleviates the need to carry around the 900 page Pillars of the Earth.
If I am to make even the feeblest attempt to use new technology, history shows I need sufficient motivation. Before going to Spain last spring, I bought my first digital camera. Unfortunately, somehow, prior to the first shot, it went on video mode and I came home with 120 videos,55 of flamenco dancing which is not one of my favorite dance forms, and the remaining videos of the inside of my tote bag. I shelved the camera permanently. In J&R, while I was buying a camera as a gift, a customer asked the salesman if the camera had a setting for "beauty." Curious, I asked what the setting did and the customer said,"it removes wrinkles and gives you a flawless complexion. I'll show you." She took my picture. I had been given a fabulous, painless face lift. Had I been dressed appropriately and been 9" taller I would have hightailed it to Ford Modeling.
I am now determined to find where I stashed the camera, figure out how to charge it and look for"beauty." It would have remained shelved, if like ordinary cameras, it showed you "truth." Who in her right mind wants truth in a camera. For "beauty," I'll read the manual.
Wishing you all health, wealth, happiness and beauty in the new year.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Dieting May Be Hazardous To Your Health
Over my lifetime I have shed 327 pounds. Diets tell you to visualize weight. 8 pounds is a newborn. 15 pounds is a 15 year old cell phone. 327 pounds is a male warthog. You've seen me, so you're probably searching the internet, muttering," I gotta find the spanx she's been wearing." Stop searching. I never weighed over 400 pounds. I never weighed over 115 pounds. Nevertheless, I've been on one diet or another for 40 years. The 327 pounds is the weight cumulatively lost by dieting. For those of you who just squeaked by calculus, let me explain that the total would not have reached 327 pounds had I kept the weight off after each regimen. Instead, I'd lose 5 pounds on the diet and gain it back as soon as I resumed eating something other than grass.
I will not bore you with the details of my teenage infatuation with amphetamines as a diet aid, other than to tell you that they were equally effective at suppressing my appetite and giving me a borderline personality disorder. Nor will I disgust you with the side effects of the diet requiring me to consume eight bowls a day of cabbage and tomatoes. Of the Atkins diet, I have only praise. I was permitted cheeseburgers, bacon, eggs and unlimited vodka. I was sated and plastered for the three weeks I was on it. Unfortunately,as a result of Atkins, I gained six pounds and was forced to go on Zocor.
I've read that fad diets are dangerous, omitting necessary nutrients, electrolytes and often, actual food. Weight Watchers, the health pundits opine, is the only safe effective "weight loss program." I tried it last year, lost weight, reached my goal and consequently became a "lifetime member," entitling me to free meetings and more important, free weigh-ins. If you have never dieted, you may not recognize the value of being weighed in by a stranger on an impartial scale.
Here's how I ordinarily weigh myself. Making sure my hair is dry so as not to add ounces, naked, I mount the scale. I look down. If the number looks good, I get off the scale and eat a donut. If the number looks bad, I move the scale a few feet to the left and step on it again. If the number is still bad, I move the scale again, repeating the process until I get a number closer to what I want. At Weight Watchers, you step on the scale. Your weight is visible to the person weighing you in, but NOT to you. You have no opportunity or reason to cheat.
A condition of maintaining lifetime membership is weighing in once a month and staying within two pounds of your goal weight. Last Saturday, I decided to report for my December weigh in at a walk-in weight watcher's location on 19th Street. The door to the office building was locked, but someone leaving the premises let me in. I took the elevator to three and found the door to the weight watcher's premises locked. I was disappointed and surprised since I thought this location was open 24/7 for lifers like me who might feel an irresistible urge to be weighed. I went downstairs. The buildings door was locked. A label beneath a green button on the side of the door read,"push to exit." I pushed the button and pushed the door. The door did not budge. I pushed the button and pulled the door. The door did not budge. I repeated this exercise 13 times, hoping fervently that I had been pushing and pulling incorrectly the previous times.
The building appeared deserted. I was locked in the lobby of 59 West 19th Street with no way out. I was the man trapped in an elevator over a weekend. Like him, I would not be found until office workers arrived Monday. Having eaten only a tiny bowl of Fiber One on Saturday morning,I might die of starvation. Worse yet, why had I picked this day to have a high fiber cereal and a large cup of coffee. I started to hyperventilate. Then I remembered my cell phone. 911. I called, embarrassed. I started to tell the operator my story...weight watchers, lifetime, weigh-in, fiber one, yada yada. She put me on hold. HOLD! I waited patiently, thinking,"Okay, my predicament may not rise to the level of a fire or armed robbery, but was she allowed to put me on hold?"
As I was musing, my savior arrived. A woman came out of the elevator, saw me and said,"Press the green button and push the door simultaneously. I know, because it's happened to me too."
Tasting freedom for the first time in a quarter hour, I skipped down 6th Avenue to the bathroom at Bed Bath and Beyond. I exuberantly peed. Then, I raced to Ray's Pizza on 11th and 6th, where I got two slices, with pepperoni. While adding the hot pepper, I thought," The pundits are wrong. Based on experience, Weight Watchers is the most dangerous diet of all."
I will not bore you with the details of my teenage infatuation with amphetamines as a diet aid, other than to tell you that they were equally effective at suppressing my appetite and giving me a borderline personality disorder. Nor will I disgust you with the side effects of the diet requiring me to consume eight bowls a day of cabbage and tomatoes. Of the Atkins diet, I have only praise. I was permitted cheeseburgers, bacon, eggs and unlimited vodka. I was sated and plastered for the three weeks I was on it. Unfortunately,as a result of Atkins, I gained six pounds and was forced to go on Zocor.
I've read that fad diets are dangerous, omitting necessary nutrients, electrolytes and often, actual food. Weight Watchers, the health pundits opine, is the only safe effective "weight loss program." I tried it last year, lost weight, reached my goal and consequently became a "lifetime member," entitling me to free meetings and more important, free weigh-ins. If you have never dieted, you may not recognize the value of being weighed in by a stranger on an impartial scale.
Here's how I ordinarily weigh myself. Making sure my hair is dry so as not to add ounces, naked, I mount the scale. I look down. If the number looks good, I get off the scale and eat a donut. If the number looks bad, I move the scale a few feet to the left and step on it again. If the number is still bad, I move the scale again, repeating the process until I get a number closer to what I want. At Weight Watchers, you step on the scale. Your weight is visible to the person weighing you in, but NOT to you. You have no opportunity or reason to cheat.
A condition of maintaining lifetime membership is weighing in once a month and staying within two pounds of your goal weight. Last Saturday, I decided to report for my December weigh in at a walk-in weight watcher's location on 19th Street. The door to the office building was locked, but someone leaving the premises let me in. I took the elevator to three and found the door to the weight watcher's premises locked. I was disappointed and surprised since I thought this location was open 24/7 for lifers like me who might feel an irresistible urge to be weighed. I went downstairs. The buildings door was locked. A label beneath a green button on the side of the door read,"push to exit." I pushed the button and pushed the door. The door did not budge. I pushed the button and pulled the door. The door did not budge. I repeated this exercise 13 times, hoping fervently that I had been pushing and pulling incorrectly the previous times.
The building appeared deserted. I was locked in the lobby of 59 West 19th Street with no way out. I was the man trapped in an elevator over a weekend. Like him, I would not be found until office workers arrived Monday. Having eaten only a tiny bowl of Fiber One on Saturday morning,I might die of starvation. Worse yet, why had I picked this day to have a high fiber cereal and a large cup of coffee. I started to hyperventilate. Then I remembered my cell phone. 911. I called, embarrassed. I started to tell the operator my story...weight watchers, lifetime, weigh-in, fiber one, yada yada. She put me on hold. HOLD! I waited patiently, thinking,"Okay, my predicament may not rise to the level of a fire or armed robbery, but was she allowed to put me on hold?"
As I was musing, my savior arrived. A woman came out of the elevator, saw me and said,"Press the green button and push the door simultaneously. I know, because it's happened to me too."
Tasting freedom for the first time in a quarter hour, I skipped down 6th Avenue to the bathroom at Bed Bath and Beyond. I exuberantly peed. Then, I raced to Ray's Pizza on 11th and 6th, where I got two slices, with pepperoni. While adding the hot pepper, I thought," The pundits are wrong. Based on experience, Weight Watchers is the most dangerous diet of all."
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