Mom (explaining how she keeps her credit cards straight): "I put a swastika on this one."I left her in good hands with Stepdaddy and got back from Boise yesterday afternoon. Oh, that handsome husband of mine was a sight for sore eyes! Actually, he picked me up from the airport in green shorts and a totally different color green shirt. I was like, "Honey, nice outfit," and he was all, "That's what happens when you leave me alone." That and the fact that the kids ate their breakfast cereal out of plastic cups that morning because somebody waited till the last minute to throw a week's worth of dishes in the dishwasher. At any rate, the love palace was shiny clean when I got home. Good job, Michael!
Mom: "Not swastika. Asterisk."
Again, thanks for all your kind wishes for Mom's good health. Now that I know she's fine, I am up her ass about losing weight. I know--there's nothing more annoying than having someone tell you something you already know, especially about your weight, and especially when it's coming from someone who's never had a real weight issue.
What caused her to have stroke-like symptoms is a condition called hypertensive encephalopathy. She was having a hypertensive crisis, which is experienced by about 1 percent of people with hypertension, commonly referred to as high blood pressure. This is serious shit, people; you cannot fuck with your blood pressure. You have to do whatever you can to keep it under control. And what do you think the Mayo Clinic and every other doctor on earth identifies as the #1 thing to do to control your blood pressure?
That's right: Lose extra pounds and watch your waistline. The second thing? Exercise regularly.
I've written about this before; check out my post, "If this post doesn't help you lose weight, then I give up." I'm the furthest thing from being a nutritionist, but I have a pretty rockin' body for being 54 years old and that should count for something.
Look, I admit that I stay slender because I'm so vain, Carly Simon even wrote a song about me. I want to look good because I perform in front of people, plus I have a 7-year-old stepchild and when she graduates from high school in friggin' 2023, I don't want to cheer her on looking like a cast member from Cocoon.
But the issue here is bigger than vanity, it's good health. I want to stay healthy so I can enjoy my children, stepchildren, and grandchildren for as long as I possibly can. I plan to dance at Hazel's 50th birthday party, so I have to stay good at least until I'm 102. And most importantly, I don't want to be in a position where anyone has to take care of me. Who does, right?
Last weekend, before shit hit the fan, my mother pointed to an elderly lady being helped up from her chair.
"Soon you'll be doing that for me," Mom said.
"Oh, hell, no!" I told her. "I'll help you if you're old, but I'm not gonna help you just because you're fat."
Later that day, she was squatting on the floor getting something from a bottom drawer in the kitchen.
"Oh, shit!" she said, laughing. "I can't get up."
"Well, you'll just have to stay there until you lose enough weight and can get up by yourself," was my reply.
That was the day before she landed in the hospital. In ICU, I might add.
Okay, Mom isn't like Gilbert Grape fat or anything--one of my friends says she just "Grandma fat." But she's definitely overweight and if lying in the ER not being able to say your own name isn't enough of a motivator to lose some pounds, then I don't know what is.
Here's the bottom line to everyone of any age. Love your children? Great. The best thing you can do for them is to stay healthy.
Don't hate me.