Growing is mandatory, feeling old is optional. Much to my doctor’s chagrin, I refuse to feel old. I describe myself as an 18 year old with 62 years of experience. It exasperates my wife who keeps complaining I don’t act my age, I keep telling her it’s not a very useful number to remember except when one has to claim discounts and benefits. She rolls her eyes at me!
Visits to my doctor usually turn into a battle of wits and witty repartee between that young fellow and me with my wife always siding with him. Oh! The attractions of youth! He is hell bent on finding something wrong with me and I’m equally hell bent on proving him wrong. He nearly won during our last visit. My results showed that my blood sugar levels were high. I was nearing diabetes but not wholly in its grip yet.
“Borderline”, he gloated. “No more sugar for you. It’s not good at your age. You should stick to healthy food that is easy for your system to digest. I’m saying this for your good.”, he preached. I scowled at him. “Listen, young man,” I said, “I’ll eat what I want and when I want. No more sugar for me? Are you kidding? I’m not diabetic yet. Borderline, like you said. Why are you preparing for my funeral before I’m even dead? Owww!”, My wife smacked me again for joking of my own demise!
“Listen Doc”, I said to him, in my grandfatherly, giving-advice –to-a-young-man-voice, “I’ve been hearing a lot about these artificial sweeteners on television. Even that beautiful and young tennis player Sania Mirza uses one. I can start doing that too. How do you expect me to live sweetlessly towards the end of my days. All this healthy eating is for you, young people. Let me enjoy the rest of my days. Har meethi cheez buri nahi hoti, beta.” He escorted us out, knowing he had lost the battle yet again.