The Shape of Me

I’m not getting fat, I’m changing shape.

The inevitable mid-life slump of the shoulders has forced a more pronounced sway in my spine thus moving my belly outwards, giving the false appearance of weight gain. There’s not more of me, there’s the same amount, just in different places.

Don’t ask me why my trousers feel tight because I really can’t say. It’s another laundry mystery.

I must confess though, as I sit here it does feel like there is a bit more material around my waist than there was a few years ago. And, without my participation in a rigorous weight lifting regime, I don’t think it’s muscle.

The question is, is this necessarily a bad thing? At 44 can I realistically expect to look like I was at 34? Should I worry about my extra flesh or happily accept it as a sign of mid-life? I am certainly in good company. Most of the men and boys I know carry more around the middle than I do. Everyone’s soft these days. We are all looking prosperous, living off the fat of the land.

I suppose I should be paying attention to the signals my body sends me at mealtimes: I go on eating well past the time my body says I’ve had enough. I just like food and enjoy the social part of mealtime and want to make it last longer; if I can prolong the experience with a second helping then I usually do.

It’s not as if we eat a poor diet. My wife does an excellent job of preparing balanced, healthy meals. It’s not the quality, it’s the quantity.

My work is largely sedentary; it’s rare that I need to expend much energy to accomplish my daily tasks. But, when I look at the workmen who turn up at my house, I notice the physical demands of their work do not necessarily translate into lean bodies. Most of them are fatter than me.

As a younger man I could and did eat anything and everything I wanted. Weight gain was not a problem, nor was it something I was able to do with my diet. I burned more calories than I ate. Older men used to tell me it would catch up to me at 40, but even then I went on eating with impunity. I’ve gained only about 1 pound a year in my 22 years of marriage and I needed every one of them; I was freakishly skinny at my wedding. I deceive myself into believing those extra pounds are manly muscle, but how much muscle can one really gain around the waist?

I can still “suck in my gut” by pulling back my sagging shoulders, but more and more doing so requires an unnatural and unsustainable posture. Were I to attempt this masquerade people would assume I had some sort of back problem and wonder why it was difficult for me to shake their hands or speak to them as one sound of mind and body?

They would, however remark on the thinness of my waist and the manly breadth of my chest and shoulders. “How fit you look and yet so unnaturally strained in your bearing.”

I could then only smile and hope they never saw me exhale.

Wouldn’t it be easier just to buy a new pair of trousers?