This Time I Mean It

Getting Past What Holds You Back with Baby Boomer Weight Loss Expert Scott 'Q' Marcus

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The Perfect Prescription

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I don’t like going to the doctor.

It’s not that I don’t like my doctor; he’s great. It’s that it puts my impermanence on full display, stripping away the denial of immortality; even when it’s simply a routine checkup. Something about being in a medical office raises my blood pressure as well as fear level.

“How are you feeling?”
“You’re the doctor; wouldn’t it be up to you to tell me?”

He chuckled an inner warmth that blended well with his extensive knowledge. As I said, I like my doctor. In a time where the medical providers are overworked and under-appreciated, rushing here to there to accomplish everything required of them, he always appeared totally attentive during the short time we spent together once a year.

“Are you exercising?”
“Yes, I walk about 30 minutes at least five times a week – plus I take my dog out each day. That’s not really exercise because we have to stop and pee at every bush we pass.” I paused, then corrected, “Well, it’s not WE to have to stop and pee; it’s him. Just clarifying…”

He smiled again.

“Your blood tests all show that everything is as it’s supposed to be. You’re a healthy man.” He paused. “So, how’s your life?”

The question knocked me on my heels for a brief flash; not a query I expected from an MD, but, when you think about it, it makes perfect sense. One cannot heal the body while ignoring the mind and spirit. As I took a mental inventory of “how is my life,” I opened up about the waning days of my career, my aspiring spirituality, family drama, life goals, and the passing of years in general.

Says singer/songwriter John Mellencamp in The Real Life: [Read more…]

The Careful Use of Words

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Limericks are humorous, frequently risqué verses of three long and two short lines that rhyme in an “aabba” pattern.

They were popularized by Edward Lear, in the late 19th century. (Fun fact: It is said that the term, “limerick” is from the chorus sung between improvised verses from the song, “Will you come up to Limerick?”) When done well, limericks use puns, spoonerisms, and double-entendres. The earliest known American limerick (1902) is:

There once was a man from Nantucket
Who kept all his cash in a bucket
But his daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man
And as for the bucket, Nantucket.

Putting words together in playful patterns is fun. Remember the long-standing children’s poem:

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear.
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.
Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t very fuzzy, was he?

Another example of linguistic mischievousness was a novelty song from World War II:

Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey.
A kiddley divey too, wooden shoe.

It’s more fun to say than any sense it appears to make. However, the bridge of the song explains:

If the words sound queer and funny to your ear,
a little bit jumbled and jivey,
Sing ‘Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy.’

Okay, it’s antiquated and trite – but c’mon, it’s amusing; admit it.

How we arrange words gives us a sense of joy and satisfaction.

Say “Aluminum Anemone” out loud. Go ahead. No one’s listening. Notice how it feels on your lips? No, it doesn’t make sense; it’s just pleasurable to pronounce.

More importantly than poems or limericks, words are the bedrock for our thoughts.

[Read more…]

Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life

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This might come as a shock – but I haven’t written this column for the last 13 years for the money I get. I know, I know; I’ve shattered your world with that revelation. But I trust you’ll get over it.

Of course, that begs the question, “Why do I write it?”

Okay, I’ll tell you. Well, as soon as I figure it out at least. I mean, I like to write (mostly) and it causes me to think, which is a good thing (mostly). And the discipline from writing every week has allowed me to publish nine books on Amazon. So, I guess that’s something. However, probably the biggest reason is that lots of folks come up to me and tell me that that they like it (again, mostly). A typical conversation went like this last week:

Stranger: “Do I know you?”

Me: “Um, I don’t know, where might we have met?”

“Wait, I know now! You’re that guy, aren’t you?”

I’ve lived too many years to respond with “yes” to a question like that without knowing the full context. It could be “Are you that guy who was sleeping with my wife?” I am most certainly not THAT guy. So, I answer, “Which guy?” [Read more…]

Letting Go of Old Baggage

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When I was 12 years old, I bought my very first major electronic purchase: an AM clock radio.

At that time, it was the high-tech equivalent of today’s driver-less cars. (Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration…) Until then, my alarm clock woke me to a concert of cacophony: a clanging, banging, rattling, ear-splitting blare. Now, due to this marvel of 1966 technology, I began my morning to “Boss Radio’s” Robert W. Morgan playing hits like Monday Monday and Ain’t Too Proud to Beg. If that wasn’t enough, another new-fangled benefit of this novel invention was the introduction of the snooze alarm. Life couldn’t get better than this.

How things change.

Arising late or missing an appointment these days is pret-near impossible due to the combination of alarms and text alerts omnipresent on anything that plugs into a wall or possesses a battery. If you overlooked your appointment, you just didn’t care.

To that end, while traveling, I utilize alerts with an addictive fervor, establishing reminders on my computer, which sync with my mobile device and watch. Not only I am aware of the status of my airplane, but also should the previous leg of the flight be canceled or delayed, I know that too. What can I say? I like to be prepared.

Last weekend I flew from Hartford to San Francisco, with a transfer in Denver scheduled to depart at 11:31.

[Read more…]

Twenty Two Years – One Step at a Time

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In September 1993, the thing for men was silk long-sleeve shirts hiked to the elbow, and bold, brightly colored ties.

Radio stations played The River of Dreams by Billy Joel, Runaway Train by Soul Asylum, and Reason to Believe by Rod Stewart. True Romance, A Bronx Tale and The Joy Luck Club flickered on movie screens. Television’s offerings included Murphy Brown, Roseanne, and Seinfeld. The Internet – as we know it now – didn’t exist. Email was in its infancy (but I’m sure there was spam). Our president was Bill Clinton with Tom Foley as the Speaker of the House. Finally, news stories included PLO leader Yasser Arafat and Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin shaking hands; and the continued legal fallout from the Branch Davidian standoff in Waco.

fat me

The biggest news story in my world was my 39th birthday on September 28 and that my life was careening out of control.

I suffered from severe back and chest pains; my finances were a mess; my marriage was hanging by a thread — and I topped the scales at 250 pounds. Taking self-inventory, I came to the shocking realization that what was in common among all these difficulties was me; I had become my own enemy.

From past experience, I knew that my canary in the coalmine was my eating.

When I got that under control, everything else fell in place. But if you added up all the weight I had lost (and then regained) over the course of my not-quite-forty-years, I’m sure it would have been in the thousands. I had even helped others lose weight. Yet, I always regained it, reverted to old habits over time.

Defeated, overwhelmed, and hopeless – but seeing no alternatives — I opted to try “one last time,” promising myself that by September 28, 1994, I’d be “fit, fun, and fiscally sound.”

It was that despair that led me to action. I went to a meeting; I reached out.

A small step, yes, but still it was movement. When I entered the room, I wanted to fall through a hole in the floor. It took every ounce of will I could muster to prevent from turning and running to the nearest bakery.

Yet I stayed; one more small step.

[Read more…]

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Scott "Q" Marcus 707 834.4090 scottq@thistimeimeanit.com

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