Battle of the Borch
People seem to have a lot of names for an expanding belly. Gut, beer belly, Joe are all acceptable. In our household, it’s called a Borch. I think Nancy started using it, with the derivation being Belly + Porch = Borch. I hate it. Not the word…but the look.
Now I have numerous pet peeves. Far too many, I think, for someone in their mid-50s. But, near the top of my list is having any kind of gut. My Dad — who played handball, golf, and bowled until his mid-60s — had one. About 99% of the men my age have one. Every single guy save maybe 3 on the PGA Tour has one. Heck, I noticed Roger Federer — Roger Federer! — has a little one.
And for everyone who has one now, it’s only going to grow larger like some nasty fungus. Maybe it’s a sign of prosperity, or maybe it’s just good cooking. Whatever it is, I’m determined not to go there.
Now, as background, I’ll confess to both having good genes and always being pretty active. I did hit 170 in my early 20s, but that was due to a steady diet of pizza and beer. Generally, though, I’ve never had more than a 34″ waist, and in the past 25 years, Nancy has us eating pretty healthy.
Still, I didn’t notice anything unusual until after we returned from a recent vacation and started looking at pictures. Yes there, peeking out just above my belt…was the beginning of a Borch. It wasn’t much, mind you. Kind of like a spec of melanoma a dermatologist might see. But, for me it was the beginning of what I knew would be THE END.
Ironically, Nancy spotted the same thing on her…and she’s 125 lbs of ripped muscle! (I think she was just being sympathetic to my plight….)
So, it was on that day — September 1, 2013 — that CHANGES NEEDED TO BE MADE.
Out went the bagel and lox for breakfast. In went an 80 calorie greek yogurt and slice of wheat toast. Lunches remained the same: turkey breast on wheat toast. Dinners were a drastic change, though. Out went pretty much the entire menu and in came a steady diet of soups and salads. Sure, there’s the occasional pizza (maybe every 3 weeks), and Chinese food, but I don’t feel deprived eating a regular rotation of Navy Bean, Chicken, Veggie, and Beef Barley soups. Thankfully, Nancy is a great chef.
My traditional bedtime snack of either cookies and milk, cake, or pie was out the window. Now it’s grapefruit and maybe a small piece of candy. I’ll cheat with some low-fat ice cream some nights, but not regularly like I used to.
And I weigh myself. Regularly, like some demented Rainman character. Morning, after workout, before bed. I know within .5lbs if I’m on track or starting to slip.
And on top of that, we became walkers. It started with walking the dogs for maybe 20 minutes a day, and now — in our usual obsessive/compulsive way — a 6 mile jaunt. I even got a Garmin running watch to track our mileage. (As usual, we take things WAY too far, but that’s been the case for me for 56 years….)
It’s now 4 months later. I’ve lost 10lbs. Waist is about 30.5″. Body fat is back to my 25hr per week cycling days. Kids say I look like a Concentration Camp victim. But, damn it, the Borch is gone.