The problem with having to change your lifestyle is having to change to your lifestyle.
The old man is suffering from his eighth mid-life crisis in as many years at the moment because he has finally realised that he is in fact mortal like the rest of us and may need to change his lifestyle if he wants to reach his fiftieth birthday.
Of course I know that his real fear is that I may get to enjoy all our hard-earned dosh without him. Which is why I’m not completely convinced that my support this increase in his longevity is a totes good idea for me.
What he doesn’t seem to have appreciated up until now is that the lifestyle of man has changed historically. No longer hunters and gatherers, kept nutritionally healthy by the Paleo diet and fit from the exertion of chasing dinner, it’s no real surprise that his twelve-hour, sedentary days behind a desk surfing the Internet was bound to have a negative impact on his health.
The old man does not do ‘change’ quietly. He proclaims ‘change’ from the rooftops and everyone has to be involved, rather like when he has man flu.
He has spent valuable Game of Thrones hours researching on the computer to see what he can eat, drink and do physically to improve his lifestyle, while we wait for him to crash and burn at the first chocolate bar.
His doctor insinuated that he could lose a few kilos at his last check up and he also suggested that binge drinking at the weekends should stop. Doctors always run that idea past me too – it’s their job – yet, as I consoled him, I’m still alive and kicking and the perfect role model for healthy living.
But we need to let him go through that process of thinking he can change for who am I to burst his bubble?
I’ve been instructed that he is longer wants to eat processed food, so last night I made him an appetising dish of Aldi fish and salad. I caught him salivating over the kids chicken pie in the kitchen and it might have been a real tear I saw drop onto the pastry crust as I gave the leftovers to the Princess.
I was surprised by the doctor’s comments, to be honest, because since we moved to the city the old man had led us to believe that he was power-walking and running to and from work.
And we have kept Nike in business, recently.
But alas, it turns out that most days he has been power-walking and running to the train station and living an appalling lie.
The ‘drinking’ issue will be harder to control than the change to his diet. Drinking is what we do together. It’s what keeps us together. I can’t imagine Friday night on orange juice but I suppose we have to go through the process until he comes to his senses.