Gut of Goo

This is not a New Year's resolution, but my tummy sure could use a little tucking.

A strange ring of flab cameoed around my midsection sometime during the time I was eating, sitting, reading, opening gifts and otherwise barely moving around my in law family's house in Iowa during the holidays.

My excuse was that it was dang cold, and I couldn't run outside. You see, I'm a regular runner, and I enjoy it. I like it so much, in fact, that I'll run outside in shorts even when it's below freezing. Then again, I run in shorts, because I left my running tights (is that the right description? It sounds like something from "Flashdance.") on a train last spring, and I'm too stubborn (or cheap) to buy another. But the weather in Iowa wasn't being sympathetic to my plight. For the first week I was there, Mother Nature dumped two snowstorms on us and locked the thermostat well into the teens. I can deal with numbing cold and sloshing through snow, but even that was too cold to chance leaving a good part of me bare in the name of exercise.

So, I plumped a little.

I'm a thin guy (some would say skinny) who has always been able to eat what I want. And I tell you that means a lot of sour cream (yum). I consider that biological blessing akin to a divine right. But alas, the gods have revoked the all-you-can-eat charter, it seems, because that rounded area in my gut is no illusion.

I noticed it the first time when I looked into the mirror after a particularly rich and delicious meal. There was the bulge, and I for a moment I thought I was peering into a mirror at a carnival. But the rest of my proportions seemed about right, so I had to junk that theory. No, it was a ball, alright, and it was not bouncing. I kind of just stood there and looked at it, torn between amusement and disgust.

I had almost the exact experience last April as I was finishing up a master of arts degree in science journalism at Columbia University. I was in the midst of a grueling stretch, with my thesis due and finals in my science classes looming. I was getting little sleep and no exercise. My brain was working hard, which, for me, meant I was eating like mad. That's when I saw the flab, and it was shocking.

I have been blessed with a kinetic personality, a high metabolism, and a dog who's very demanding about her walks. So, before that revelation at school, I had never had a brush with fat. I greatly empathize with those who do. I also realize how difficult and demanding it is to lose weight, a notion driven home to me even more when I wrote a story about obesity in Rhode Island and a doctor's attempt to help people who are battling the disease.

My heart goes out to them, and I wish them well.

Maybe I should get those running tights after all -- and soon.