I RECENTLY started to grow a second head and decided to seek medical advice. “Hmmm,” said my Doc alarmingly, “Hmmm, no; nothing to worry about.” Apparently, I wasn’t becoming a two-headed monster, it was just a titchy solar keratoses. All those years of gadding about around the Far East and Med was catching up with a chap.
I argued, “But Doc, I lived in Ilkeston ,England as a small boy and spent recent years in Spain and before that a while in Far east and Med. I must’ve got used to it.” He gave me one of those withering pedagogue looks across the top of his glasses, “It is damage that occurs over time. As a male you produce testosterone which contributes towards it.” He glanced up at my bonce and continued, “and as your, erm, ‘covering’ isn’t as, shall we say, lush as it once was…” He waved a hand at the Boots Healthcare website. It told me: “Solar keratosis tends to occur on areas of the body which are exposed to the sun, i.e., the face or on the scalp of people with little or no hair.” Huh, charming, little or no hair - we folic-ally challenged chaps really do have a lot to put up with.
Okay, here’s the science: “Solar keratoses are caused by damage to the skin by ultraviolet light which is part of sunlight. The skin is normally pretty good at repairing any minor damage. But, over the years some areas of skin are unable to cope with the repeated exposure to sun and a solar keratosis can form. So, it is not a recent bout of sun-tanning that causes them but repeated minor sun-damage to the skin over time.”
“So, Magic (that's me),” said the Doc, “It’s factor-thirty on the bonce for you or the wearing of a hat. Those baseball caps seem to be all the rage, although a nice Panama would be my head cover of choice.” Groan, baseball caps; Brian, the much-missed landlord of The Bell Inn in Nottingham , good for Sunday jaz, used to call them ‘IQ reducers’, especially those being worn back-to-front. “But Doc,” I pleaded, thoughts of becoming a born-again-chav a real worry, “can’t I just be treated?” He smiled, “Of course, dear boy, but you’ll still have to wear a hat or factor-thirty.” With my fate sealed I started to rise from the chair. “Uh, oh,” said the Doc, “not so fast, I want to give you a quick MOT.”
It just so happened that a week earlier (late in June) I was thinking about my up-coming July trip to Spain. And after taking a quick look in the mirror I realised that it was going to be a tough job to become ‘A1 for Javea; or body beautiful for Benidorm’. The current state then would’ve attracted the couplet, ‘chubby in Calpe; or dumpy in Denia’. My nearest and dearest reading over my shoulder was quick to join in the fun. “Or Mgic,” said she-who-must, “how about, just plain old ‘fat in Finestrat’?” How she made herself laugh. Everyone, these days seems to be a critic.
So, you see, I knew that when the Doc was going to say something about my weight (then 68kgs) I could honestly tell him that I was ‘on the case’. In fact I pre-empted him. “I’ve recently started to diet,” I grovelled. “Hmmm,” he mused and muttered something about BMI, which to be honest I thought was an airline. Is he calling me a Jumbo? Apparently, my Body Mass Index was 25.0 and given my dimensions should be between 18.5 and 24.0 with a top weight of 70kgs “give or take” (give or take what, Doc?)
“So you’ve started to cut back. That’s good,” Doc said, “but do you do any exercise?” I told him I try to walk most days to the fridge and back. He didn't seem impressed, and asked, “Do you go to a gym?” I stretched back in the chair and opened my arms in an expansive gesture. “The river banks are my gym,” I theatrically retorted. He grinned, “Well, just you get through that turnstile a tad more often.” He ‘okayed-me’ to carry-on dieting.
The mere thought of dieting is enough to bring on cravings of cake, chocolate and no end of naughtiness. But, without wanting to become too boringly evangelical about it, I have found that Slimfast (so far) has worked for this old hack. Now look folks, I’m no saint and I have lapsed from time to time and boozed a bit; but generally the ugly fat has slowly been wearing away. Also, I didn’t want to get ‘hung up’ on numbers, so I am not re-weigh myself for a month. I guess it has to be viewed as a long term plan.
All of which brings me to today and I’m off for another weigh-in. It’ll be my last one before sitting in giant-silver-bird bound for Alicante. Come over and join me before the meet in August for a San Miguel or two in Benidorm, Geoff did . Any one heard how he is doing? - I’ll be the pale looking, slightly scraggy-necked bloke wearing a baseball cap or Panama. Pip, pip dear friends…
So that's its folks till the meet in August on Saturday the 4th just want to get away from this rain.
Toodle pip Magic
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