At my age, losing 60 pounds will leave you with extra skin. Things don’t snap back like they used to. That’s fine by me, but it sets the stage for this story. We have a hot tub. Winters and hot tubs are simply awesome. My teenaged son never misses the chance for an evening dip and loves company. I’m happy to accept his invite. Despite this almost nightly ritual, throughout my weight loss period, it seems that I now have visibly “extra” skin.
A few weeks ago, enjoying the bubbly warm water, I notice my son sizing me up as we bask in the tub.
My son asks; “Dad, can you pull your skin out, like a balloon?”
“Um, I never tried, I don’t plan to, why?”
“Just wondering.”
The next night; “Dad, that’s a lot of extra skin you have. What are you going to do about it?”
“Huh? I’m not even thinking about doing anything about it. Why?”
“Oh, just wondering.”
Again, the following night; “Dad? Are you going to get your extra skin surgically removed?”
“NO! Why do you keep asking me about my skin?!?”
“Just wondering.”
I don’t doubt he’s just thinking out loud, which is how we live. I don’t mind the questions but the continual and seemingly off-the-cuff questions from him finally make me self-conscious. I’m checking the bathroom mirror (never a pleasant exercise), and, OK, sure, there’s some extra skin, but nothing to go on about.
Yet…
At our next hot tub bask; curious about his constant and unprompted asking. I ask my son; “You know how you keep asking me about my skin?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know, how I have extra skin, and should have it removed?”
“I have? I don’t remember.”
<sigh>
Minutes pass…
“Oh yeah! What’s that like? Are you going to do something about it?!?”
“Never mind.”
postscript: I wrote this in February, 2018. My skin has tightened up since then, I’m pleased to report. Perhaps related to autophagy? That’s for another post.