Now that I'm settling back into life into the far North I have meditated on two factors. The first is that if I move to America I'll have to watch what I eat very carefully. Two weeks in the Pacific Northwest had me put on 10 pounds! The second is that the pleasure of travel seems to have disappeared altogether and has been replaced with barely suppressed rage.
I came back at 205 lbs. My average weight is around 195 if I'm lucky and keep exercising. I basically ate 10K calorie meals everyday with zero exercise. I knew I was in trouble when my pants were extremely tight and my belt had to be let out to the next notch. Not good.
So it was back to regular (or less) calories and exercise again. After four days I'm happy to report I'm down to 202.5 lbs. It also meant going back to beatings last night with an actual pot belly and little or no flexibility. I huffed and puffed the whole time, but it was a lot of fun. Four of us plus Teacher makes for a good two hours. No breaks!
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Traveling by air has always meant a pleasurable time relaxing and enjoying the relatively luxurious experience of being pampered and napping for long stretches. That's kind of gone by the wayside as the years have passed. I'm now waiting in long lines, suffering indignities at the hands of uncaring strangers and my once previous relaxation has turned into enduring endless uncomfortable hours squeezed into a seat designed for someone way smaller than me.
What really tops that off is the change in baggage regulations and how people have responded to it. First the charge per bag - not that it's bothering me too much, but I can see a lot of people doing a lot to avoid it at all costs. So they drag their bags on board the plane with the blithe hope that it'll fit into the overhead baggage compartment.
What this does is create an environment in which every person in the isle gets elbow, shoulder and knees clipped as our fellow passengers stumble through the plane. The next bit drives me nearly insane. People go through this to avoid a fee and then find out that they cannot lift their bag over their head! When I see the little test basket by the counter (which no one apparently uses to see if the bag is going to fit) I think they should have a fitness proof as well.
"I'm sorry Ma'am but since you can't lift the bag over your head twice, you'll have to pay the fee". That'd go over really well.
I'm not sure what crack head designed the seat spacing, but he or she will have a special place in hell. I take long flights and a lot of flights to get off the island. I'd like to see the designers come along with me as I scream incoherently at them for hours. And then ask if they'd like some cranberry juice with that. Assholes.
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