I’ve just about had all my tight blue jeans can stand of gaining weight.

            For a while, I gained 5 pounds a year after I turned 33 and started back to college for the fourth time.  I worked 60 hours a week and went to college full-time at night.  The weight gain was caused by eating a dozen lemon-filled doughnuts and drinking three cups of coffee each night while sitting still and studying.  The doughnuts were to keep the coffee from burning a hole in my stomach.  The coffee was to prevent severe damage to my forehead as it careened into the kitchen table while I sat and absorbed those 3” thick textbooks that contained all the information known to man since before he found fig leaves.  Osmosis of the written words through my skull was the best method of absorption.  Sleep stupor can rationalize anything.

            While I captured the sheep-skin, my family learned how to out-maneuver each other.  Fortunately, Baby Girl was 8 and able to take care of herself and keep her daddy’s tie straight and his colors matched.  It was a good education for both of them.  “Daddy, Mama would skin you alive if she even THOUGHT you were going outside in that purple plaid shirt with those red striped pants.”

            “It’d serve her right for not putting matching numbers on the labels so I’d know what went with what,” he would benignly reply.  “Besides, I was just taking the trash out, Miss Smarty-pants.”

            “That’s your briefcase in your hand, Dad.”

            She still uses that cleverly cultivated capability, of being able to make the stronger sex see how incapable they are at accomplishing certain tasks.  I called her husband one day to ask about our collective plans for the weekend.  He promptly replied, “Wait a minute, my social director is still in the bathroom.  I’ll have her call you.”  I was so impressed that he’d learned to pass the buck after only five years of marriage, but he resigned.  “Shoot, I learned when we were still in college how to manage time more efficiently.  I just give up, give in, and ask her where we are supposed to be and how she wants me to dress.  Saves time, saves energy and saves changing clothes before we go out.”

            Another foray into higher education began when Little Fella was only three.  Corporate downsizing offered the “learn a new trade” alternative to the daily traffic battle.  That alternative became a teaching certificate.  I’ve been a teacher since I was 15 months old and Brother #1 was born.  Someone had to teach each underling who was in charge.  So who was better qualified to “learn” them than a born teacher? 

            This time I learned quickly.  Start with a larger size pair of blue jeans instead of migrating at a latter date.  Acceptance, early on, is a virtue.  Unfortunately, my body and this accumulated adipose tissue have become such good friends that it’s hard to part with this unwanted load.

            Maybe I should just have a bagel and a PhD.