244.
I nearly slapped my doctor when she told me my cholesterol was 244. Luckily for her, the fat in my blood slowed my killer reflexes, and all I managed was a limp wave. She thought I was trying to be friendly.
I honestly don’t understand how this has happened. I try very hard to eat healthy things. Why, just take a look at my meal plan during a typical day:
Breakfast: Oatmeal topped with bacon.
Lunch: Salad topped with ranch dressing, cheese, and bacon.
Dinner: Grilled tilapia wrapped in bacon, with a side of cheese smothered in sour cream.
See? Oatmeal, salad, fish … these are all healthy foods!
Since clearly my high cholesterol couldn’t possibly have been caused by something I ate, I decided it must be the result of genetics. I called my parents to yell at them for hardening my arteries.
My mother was sympathetic, until I noticed the way the conversation was heading. Wait a minute—was she actually bragging about her HDL levels? Show off! Although she did have a point—with numbers like that (I have to admit, she impressed me) it became abundantly clear that my father was the culprit.
“Hi, Dad. I’ve got a teeny, tiny bone to pick with you,” I seethed when he came to the phone.
My father admitted that my cholesterol woes were probably a direct result of being his child. He gave me some good advice, mostly on how to beat the cholesterol screening the next time I had to have one. It was kind of hard to hear him, though.
“Wait a minute! Dad, you’re eating potato chips right now!”
“No, I’m not,” he mumbled through a mouth full of potato chips.
“Yes you are! Those are Cape Cod chips, too. I can tell by the sound of their crunch!”
Dad was busted, so he gave the phone back to Mom. She assured me that there are a couple of light cheeses out on the market that tasted better than, say, boiled socks or dinosaur dung, but not much. I hung up the phone, heart sinking. I had to face the truth: my love affair with cheese was over.
I kissed my hunk of Gouda goodbye, and carved the block of cheddar in to the shape of a heart before throwing it out. I’ll admit, it was an emotional breakup. I chewed on a slab of raw bacon to soothe my broken soul. That helped a little.
I’m determined to control this thing without medication. I’ve decided to shed a few pounds, so I’m starting the Atkins diet tomorrow. I can’t wait to see my doctor’s face at my next cholesterol screening!
I nearly slapped my doctor when she told me my cholesterol was 244. Luckily for her, the fat in my blood slowed my killer reflexes, and all I managed was a limp wave. She thought I was trying to be friendly.
I honestly don’t understand how this has happened. I try very hard to eat healthy things. Why, just take a look at my meal plan during a typical day:
Breakfast: Oatmeal topped with bacon.
Lunch: Salad topped with ranch dressing, cheese, and bacon.
Dinner: Grilled tilapia wrapped in bacon, with a side of cheese smothered in sour cream.
See? Oatmeal, salad, fish … these are all healthy foods!
Since clearly my high cholesterol couldn’t possibly have been caused by something I ate, I decided it must be the result of genetics. I called my parents to yell at them for hardening my arteries.
My mother was sympathetic, until I noticed the way the conversation was heading. Wait a minute—was she actually bragging about her HDL levels? Show off! Although she did have a point—with numbers like that (I have to admit, she impressed me) it became abundantly clear that my father was the culprit.
“Hi, Dad. I’ve got a teeny, tiny bone to pick with you,” I seethed when he came to the phone.
My father admitted that my cholesterol woes were probably a direct result of being his child. He gave me some good advice, mostly on how to beat the cholesterol screening the next time I had to have one. It was kind of hard to hear him, though.
“Wait a minute! Dad, you’re eating potato chips right now!”
“No, I’m not,” he mumbled through a mouth full of potato chips.
“Yes you are! Those are Cape Cod chips, too. I can tell by the sound of their crunch!”
Dad was busted, so he gave the phone back to Mom. She assured me that there are a couple of light cheeses out on the market that tasted better than, say, boiled socks or dinosaur dung, but not much. I hung up the phone, heart sinking. I had to face the truth: my love affair with cheese was over.
I kissed my hunk of Gouda goodbye, and carved the block of cheddar in to the shape of a heart before throwing it out. I’ll admit, it was an emotional breakup. I chewed on a slab of raw bacon to soothe my broken soul. That helped a little.
I’m determined to control this thing without medication. I’ve decided to shed a few pounds, so I’m starting the Atkins diet tomorrow. I can’t wait to see my doctor’s face at my next cholesterol screening!
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