Not So Big Any More

In January, my doctor sent me for diet counselling. That’s a bit humbling at my age but we all have our blind spots.

I met three times with a very nice dietitian who didn’t pull many punches. Among my formerly favourite foods that had to go was my daily chocolate bar, most of the time coming in the form of a bar that has the word “big” in its name. I sometimes joked with people who saw me eating one that the best way to become big is to eat a chocolate bar with the word “big” in its name every day.

Go big or go home.

But there they were – gone! Banished by my counsellor.

I thought I would die from that prohibition but I’ve been getting by pretty well. The theory is that eventually your body wants what it’s being fed on a regular basis so now I get my sugar from natural sources such as fruit and interestingly, my body craves it.

Tonight, however, all this goody two-shoes business was getting me down so I headed for Joe’s Variety to buy me a “big” chocolate bar. If that gets me into the ground a few days earlier, I am willing to go with that, just for the pleasure of that nutty, chewy bar in my mouth.

When I got to the store, I started carefully perusing the shelves trying to find my nectar. The clerk finally had to help me out and when I picked up what she said was my familiar “big” snack, I thought the Chocolate Bar Gods were playing a heartless trick.

My big chocolate bar is not big anymore. It’s more like “puny.” This change was apparently made with absolutely no consultation with me.

I was crestfallen. A development like this can rock a guy’s world. The clerk tried to talk me into buying the gigantic “big x 2” which is double the dose in a huge package and is meant for those who have set obesity as a serious life goal (there is one in my Christmas stocking every year).

I bought the now diminished-sized regular one. I ripped the package open the minute I exited the store and enjoyed every miniature chaw all the way home.

First they stopped making available in Canada a salty treat with the title “bugle” in its name – I searched every store for weeks for a bag of the crusty corn twist – and now this.

Life is cruel for hungry guys who lack willpower sometimes.

©2011 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.