Doctors All Say The Same Thing

“Don’t want to a fat man…”
--Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull.



I went to the doctor’s today for my annual check-up, and he said I was fine.

He also said I eat crummy food which is why I have gas in my stomach and my weight went up.

I asked him to check on something, as I have a bulge in the center of the chest.

“Oh that; it’s a surgical hernia,” he said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

Now get this: apparently if one has surgery multiple times in the same area, it can cause the muscles to separate and cause the herniated syndrome, which means a bulge results from the tissue.

“It’s not a big deal” the Doctor muttered. “You can hardly notice it; it is small.”

Well, I noticed it. He then said the dreaded words I hate to hear: “Lose weight; it will help.”

I came home and sat with my good friend Chumley, the now 27 pound cat; certainly he would understand.

My Doctor is in his fifties and weighs about 140 to 160. He’s a great guy; smart, good sense of humor, honest, calms me down, fit, sporting a tan and a sports car.

I do not begrudge him his success; but come on. Sure the 140 pound guy can easily say lose fifty pounds.

Here is the clue though; I was that scrawny guy at one point. Crummy food and excellent beer forced my body to metamorphosis into what it is.

As I replayed the conversation in my mind and explained it to friend Chumley, the big cat rolled over and went to sleep

It was then I decided that Chumley and I are on a diet and we will exercise more. Granted, neither Chumley nor I want this; but we have to do it. Less treats for both of us; more exercise; less lying around; and less beer—well for Chumley—me, I will drink his.

More of less as time moves on…stay tuned.