Gerry told me about it, but I wasn’t paying as much attention as a vain guy should. Steroid gut… Moonface… Love handles to burn.
I’ve got it all. And I hate it.
I’ve written a bit about my love of running on this blog and everything I’ve written is true. I run because I love to run. For the last two or three decades, that is.
But in the beginning I ran because I am vain. I don’t want to be fat.
Not was, but am vain. That’s pretty clear from the reaction I had after finally shaving yesterday. I looked up and there it was in the mirror, this round, round, round moon shaped face, clean of silvery whiskers, buffed as it were and just completely goddamned round.
Gerry told me about his steroid induced weight gain that goes along with moonface. I’ve got that too. It’s a band of fat around my belly that I’ve compulsively kept off for decades. But I’ve always known it’s there, in spirit… just waiting.
Now it’s here in three dimensional, jiggly never-going-awayness.
My doc told me too. “You’ll get fat. So get fat. Who cares? It’s not like you’re not in great shape,” She told me when she prescribed the steroids. “These will keep you alive for a good bit. So eat what you want. Enjoy it.
And it’s true. Underneath this not too bad sheath of jelly, I’m in pretty great shape for a dying, exercise-maniac physical comeback kind of guy. And I get to feed my sweet tooth.
So I live with it. Just another thing to signal it’s coming. And this particular signal is not so bad. No pain, a bit of struggle with the belt. Shirts that don’t fit so well, not that I have anywhere to go, anyhow.
Like most everything else now, this one’s a ‘learn to live with it’ trial. It’s not up there with the throat closing up or the leg dragging on the ground or the fatigue that strikes every day around 4. These are all staring me in the face with a deeper meaning – I can and will die soon. All I can effect is what lies around the edge.
And there’s another thing I can effect: how I live this out. That’s the hardest part. So, no more moaning about moonface.