For the youngster heading off to college for the first time, one of the perils of on-campus life is something called the “Freshman Fifteen.” This, of course, refers to the extra weight the student can expect to pack on during that first year away from home.
That said, it seems being housebound these past twelve months has affected me in similar fashion … I am referring, unfortunately, to my newly acquired “Pandemic Poundage.”
Looking back, I know some clues were missed. For example, with limited social interactions over the past year, my wardrobe has consisted of rotating the same four t-shirts; I now know their increasing snugness had nothing to do with our brand of laundry soap.
In my defense, I have tried to remain disciplined about my diet. But then the doorbell rings with a kind neighbor dropping off freshly baked banana bread or an extra piece of chocolate cake. And even a trip to the market poses a dilemma as I am forced to walk (unsuccessfully) past Girl Scouts selling cookies. Sadly, in the face of these temptations my resolve falls by the wayside.
Recently, the extent to which I have lost control of my diet was made clear. Stepping on the new talking scale I received as a Christmas gift, I heard a mechanical voice warn: “Stop … One Person at a Time, Please!”