Getting Old

[Churchill]

This is because out parents/grand parents didn’t have so much processed food (well mine didn’t)
I am early 40’s and am doing well by avoiding anything that comes in a bag or a packet, I eat a lot of veg/fruit mostly, and that is naturally keeping me trim.
Also no diet fizzy drinks, they are bad, even though they are diet, when I have a few I can notice my waist line expanding. I also don’t eat bought cakes/chocolate etc 99% of the time.
So my food daily is like:
B: home made huge green/fruit smoothie, (e.g. banana, frozen berries and lots of green baby spinach)

Lunch: Lots of Salad, beans or protein, small amount of starch like one potato or a few spoon of starch

Dinner: same as lunch or same as breakfast, depends how hungry I am.


Just keep everything natural, and home cooked 90% of the time and you will be naturally healthy.

That kind of diet won't make you live forever, it'll just seem like it.

Right, that's me off to the airport!

Ciao!

[zamzummim]

That kind of diet won't make you live forever, it'll just seem like it.

Right, that's me off to the airport!

Ciao!

There's only one thing that we have to do in life, and that is to die. I have often met people who use this fact to justify their ambivalence toward health information. But I take a different view. I have never pursued health hoping for immortality.

Good health is about being able to fully enjoy the time we do have. It is about being as functional as possible throughout our entire lives and avoiding crippling, painful and lengthy battles with disease. There are many better ways to die, and to live.

three guesses who said that lol... never mind its a very good quote

[EternalOptimist]

I don't ever remember my parents being in this situation but I think I act younger at 48 than my parents did at 40.

Anyone in a similar situation?

yes of course. But the trick is to maximise what you do have, to keep pushing and not to roll over.

If it's purely fitness that you are concerned about, some of the best fell runners up here seem to be about 85, so there's hope for us all

[russell]

I'm in my late 40's and ever since I hit 44-45, I've found it really hard to maintain the levels of fitness that I used to. I cycle maybe 10 miles or so per day during the week but find that whereas that used to be enough to keep myself trim, I've piled on the pounds. I work long hours, leaving home at 05:30 and not getting back until 19:00

Foolish, work less hours.

[xoggoth]

It gets far harder after 40, you have to really work at it. The normal laws of physics do not seem to apply.

[hyperD]

It is quite odd how your body changes during the decades.

One minute you're quaffing flagons of ale and forcing stacks of big macs down your gullet like a demented fois gras duckling while proudly displaying your six pack at any ditzy girl foolish enough to wander within your miniscule gravitational field, when suddenly one millisecond after your thirtieth birthday, you wake up to find someone has implanted a large medicine ball inside your stomach.

And it won't go away. It keeps gestating.

You can have hot curries, hot baths, plenty of ladies and gentlemen to expel the unwanted growth, but the avaricious bastard keeps growing. So then you are reluctantly forced to eat grass until your end of days.

Then as you turn 40 you find that all your hair has had a committee meeting overnight and unanimously decides that eumelanin and pheomelanin are so, like, last year and your pubic hair decides now is the right time to conquer the nose, ears and eyebrows and doggedly sets up an expanding DMZ on your forehead.

Haemorrhoids make a surprise comeback tour when you decide that it’s about time you dice with death and take a bike to work on busy roads that make the Operation Neptune look like a walk down by the promenade.

The simple pleasure of laissez-faire farting now becomes a fully planned military operation utilising an array of fresh underwear, towels, close proximity to a changing area, a full risk assessment and absolutely Verboten on a week day while wearing Savile Row’s finest.

And erections? Where did they bugger off to? One minute you’re saluting the flag at the mere glimpse of some flesh or skirt, the next minute you’re desperately prodding your toes with a fork because you think you might have snapped your spinal cord above the C7 vertebra because there’s been no sensation or activity for the last 48 hours.

And if you think that’s all, Mr Prostate wants a slice of the decay and decides that engorging various proteins in the body and swelling to the size of a watermelon is the smart thing to do, you stand humiliated in a public urinal with your chap in your hand, busily explaining to wild-eyed strangers that are slowly edging away from you, that you’ve never had a problem urinating before…

[MarillionFan]

It is quite odd how your body changes during the decades.

One minute you're quaffing flagons of ale and forcing stacks of big macs down your gullet like a demented fois gras duckling while proudly displaying your six pack at any ditzy girl foolish enough to wander within your miniscule gravitational field, when suddenly one millisecond after your thirtieth birthday, you wake up to find someone has implanted a large medicine ball inside your stomach.

And it won't go away. It keeps gestating.

You can have hot curries, hot baths, plenty of ladies and gentlemen to expel the unwanted growth, but the avaricious bastard keeps growing. So then you are reluctantly forced to eat grass until your end of days.

Then as you turn 40 you find that all your hair has had a committee meeting overnight and unanimously decides that eumelanin and pheomelanin are so, like, last year and your pubic hair decides now is the right time to conquer the nose, ears and eyebrows and doggedly sets up an expanding DMZ on your forehead.

Haemorrhoids make a surprise comeback tour when you decide that it’s about time you dice with death and take a bike to work on busy roads that make the Operation Neptune look like a walk down by the promenade.

The simple pleasure of laissez-faire farting now becomes a fully planned military operation utilising an array of fresh underwear, towels, close proximity to a changing area, a full risk assessment and absolutely Verboten on a week day while wearing Savile Row’s finest.

And erections? Where did they bugger off to? One minute you’re saluting the flag at the mere glimpse of some flesh or skirt, the next minute you’re desperately prodding your toes with a fork because you think you might have snapped your spinal cord above the C7 vertebra because there’s been no sensation or activity for the last 48 hours.

And if you think that’s all, Mr Prostate wants a slice of the decay and decides that engorging various proteins in the body and swelling to the size of a watermelon is the smart thing to do, you stand humiliated in a public urinal with your chap in your hand, busily explaining to wild-eyed strangers that are slowly edging away from you, that you’ve never had a problem urinating before…

I went for a haircut the other day and she said 'Do you want your eyebrows trimming, they're quite bushy?'

[suityou01]

It is quite odd how your body changes during the decades.

One minute you're quaffing flagons of ale and forcing stacks of big macs down your gullet like a demented fois gras duckling while proudly displaying your six pack at any ditzy girl foolish enough to wander within your miniscule gravitational field, when suddenly one millisecond after your thirtieth birthday, you wake up to find someone has implanted a large medicine ball inside your stomach.

And it won't go away. It keeps gestating.

You can have hot curries, hot baths, plenty of ladies and gentlemen to expel the unwanted growth, but the avaricious bastard keeps growing. So then you are reluctantly forced to eat grass until your end of days.

Then as you turn 40 you find that all your hair has had a committee meeting overnight and unanimously decides that eumelanin and pheomelanin are so, like, last year and your pubic hair decides now is the right time to conquer the nose, ears and eyebrows and doggedly sets up an expanding DMZ on your forehead.

Haemorrhoids make a surprise comeback tour when you decide that it’s about time you dice with death and take a bike to work on busy roads that make the Operation Neptune look like a walk down by the promenade.

The simple pleasure of laissez-faire farting now becomes a fully planned military operation utilising an array of fresh underwear, towels, close proximity to a changing area, a full risk assessment and absolutely Verboten on a week day while wearing Savile Row’s finest.

And erections? Where did they bugger off to? One minute you’re saluting the flag at the mere glimpse of some flesh or skirt, the next minute you’re desperately prodding your toes with a fork because you think you might have snapped your spinal cord above the C7 vertebra because there’s been no sensation or activity for the last 48 hours.

And if you think that’s all, Mr Prostate wants a slice of the decay and decides that engorging various proteins in the body and swelling to the size of a watermelon is the smart thing to do, you stand humiliated in a public urinal with your chap in your hand, busily explaining to wild-eyed strangers that are slowly edging away from you, that you’ve never had a problem urinating before…

It's not often I print out a post. In fact I have never done this. This one is getting printed and framed as a priceless gem.

[shaunbhoy]

I am reliably informed that I am the ideal weight..................just the wrong height.

I like to think that I have simply traded in some of my height coefficient to focus on my width one instead.
Famine-packing if you like. It is how those of us at the top of the evolutionary tree survive you see? That's my story anyway!!

[MarillionFan]

I am reliably informed that I am the ideal weight..................just the wrong height.

I like to think that I have simply traded in some of my height coefficient to focus on my width one instead.
Famine-packing if you like. It is how those of us at the top of the evolutionary tree survive you see? That's my story anyway!!

You're like a midget Jabba the Hut but without the personality. What's not to love?