The doctor just put me on the Do or Die Diet. You can imagine what fun I had late this afternoon, getting that news.
I’ve had sleep apnea for 17 years. Always a trailblazer, I had sleep apnea before sleep apnea was cool.
If that doesn’t impress you, try this: at the same sleep study, I was diagnosed with restless legs.
YES! The real restless legs syndrome that only recently has been made a punchline by the stupid drug companies.
I’ve been using a CPAP since they were invented. I’m a hoser. Up my nose with a rubber hose.
I’ve been snoring again for about a year. Within the past few months, I had another bodily function that seemed rather abnormal. If I lay on my back, just before dozing off, it was like a little trap door in my throat would spring shut blocking my airway.
Diagnosis: I’m so damn overweight my fat chest was collapsing my airway.
I’m going to have another sleep study so we get to pay to confirm something everybody already knows.
I need to get off my fat butt.
When I explained that sleeping downhill made it better, she wasn’t impressed. “You just moved the weight from your chest to your tummy.”
Eventually, it’s sleeping in the recliner, then upright, then she explained that I am just a few more beers and M&M’s and milkshakes, and cookies, and cake, and chocolate muffins away from…
sleeping on all fours like a puppy.
So it’s the Do or Die Diet.
- Cancel my order for 5 lbs of M & M’s for Father’s Day.
- Find somebody to give my beer to.
- Eat more greens – and the doctor pointedly said green cake didn’t count, so don’t suggest only green M & M’s. Chill comes in a green bottle so I was good to go with that if that argument would have held up.
- Stop using the computer chair to roll to the fridge.
“So how long did it take you to put on this weight?” the doctor asked.
“All my friggin’ life. ”
Here’s your sign.