Lost in the Wilderness of Options; Belly-aching Belly Bulge... Again.

I am not so much gaining weight as I am losing muscle tone. My metabolic disorder is ordering me to diet again. Parkinson's package of pain, and general loss of balance, restricts my motion. Yet motion is the prescription, coupled with low caloric intake... Zipping up the pie hole while wiggling the Wabash.

Unfortunately my favorite exercise in years past has always been long dream-walking, pilgrimages to new neighborhoods. Lost in a healthy happy mind set of imagines... adrift in a thought-rich walk, sightseeing the little details on all the back streets and riversides of my favorite cities.

Walking has always awakened my inner athlete, subduing my slothful tendencies, bringing me back to trim. Nowadays putting out the trash is a marathon-esque quest crippled in diagnosable discomforts. I just can't walk like I use to. Instead I do an exhausting zombie shuffle, an old man comical short step worthy of slapstick giggles. Though instead of laughing... I long for a place to sit, hidden from public scrutiny. Usually I just stay home.

My dietary regime, in days gone past, was predictably some fad scam of weight loss fanatically followed, creating inspirational success, until reality crept back in, lazy old binges of mind-soothing decadence. Classical roller-coasting in a recognizable inefficiency. All fatties know the dance.

Yet, fat fastened to the midriff is unequivocally unhealthy, ugly to be, and impossible to disguise. Sin shows in a world of selfies. And when coupled with failing teeth, balding head, and sagging skin, it is just best to get over whatever it is, and just do the damn diet... again.

Lost in the Wilderness of Prosperity

Today we are in cherry blossom abundance, when spring reluctantly nudges in, after a cold and wet Japanese winter. No other flowering better teases out the national sensual selfie. We are in the pink, religiously snapping away on one-hundred and twenty-five million cellular phones.

I take two Ibuprofen to augment the battery of medicine I consume for Parkinson's. Despite a blissful outside, I shutter within my perfected home of opulence. Lucky is an understatement. Sponsoring the vitality-rich adventures of my three children, now scattered geographically in a world of possibility... I live in the lap of luscious aloneness. My week sprinkled with delightful cerebral communion, quietly distanced from the hum of urban clatter in my mountain-high suburbia, Hieidaira.

I struggle to calm a dilapidated neurological rat's nest. I have the shakes, constipation, muscle rigidity and the anxiety prone mind melt of any self-absorbed PDer. In a life of a billion great adventures, it is only right I now must face one more challenge... one more dimension to the human web of contradictions.

Perhaps most mysterious now, in the simplest of daily steps, my making choices. I live in my head of indecisiveness. Swallowed by the symptoms of my descent...  I "enny, meeny, miny, moe" my day away. Sauntering sadly to the beat of ill at ease. Lost in a banquet of plausible options. In like a lion, out like a lamb.