Our friends now think we are having some kind of hippie mid-life crisis.
They haven’t said the words (to our faces) but I can see it in their eyes. “Pass the sodding bread, dear. I’m going to make a poultice for Trog Dad’s groin injury. No wonder he’s so weak. He’s eaten nothing but pork scratchings since March.”
This mid life crisis theory was not assisted by Trog Dad’s determination to buy the tightest sleeveless workout t-shirt known to Homo Erectus. Frankly, all he was missing at this stage was a red Ferrari and a pony tail.
Anyway, I digress.
Trog Dad recently found himself eating lunch with a work colleague. The conversation:
Colleague: It’s Weightwatchers tonight, got my weigh in, so eating salad again
Trog Dad: How’s that going?
Colleague: I’ve lost four pounds in two months
Trog Dad notes the glance at his lunchbox…it contains a giant piece of chicken covered in skin and a packet of pork scratchings.
Colleague:What about you? Still on that weird diet?
Trog Dad: Oh, that. Yeah.
Colleague: How long have you been doing it?
Trog Dad: Two months
Colleague, with pitying smile: Have you lost any weight?
Trog Dad: 18 pounds
Gotta love a mid-life crisis.