Uncle Clint

My dad stayed at my house last weekend as we were in a beach house in Newport for Gioconda's birthday.

Luckily my dad loves dogs, and he takes really good care of all the animals, and he was able to ride his bike around the Rose bowl which he enjoyed.

He also cleans up my yard, which is a huge benefit.

So I called him yesterday to thank him and he says, " Are you feeling ok."

I know immediately what he is referring to.

"You've lost a lot of weight."

He's right I have. Around the girls started walking I began loosing weight, and since October have lost over 30 lbs.

Now I eat about a quarter of what I used to eat, and although I have been able to maintain at 134 lb people ask me nearly every single day if I've lost more weight.

Since I've been anticipating gaining the weight back I haven't updated any of my clothes, so I'm an 8 wearing a 12-14, which I think compounds the perception I am suffering from a disease.

And then it gets me thinking, maybe I am.

Objectively I have all the characteristics of someone who should be filled with cancer.

I can be incredibly resentful, bitter and petty. I never look on the bright side, or think everything will work out fine. Although not negative per se, I am certainly no optimist.

A few weeks back my mom was in Iowa and informed me my great uncle Clinton , my grandfathers only remaining sibling, died and since she was in town she would be attending the funeral.


"Was he sick? ," I asked.

"He was 92, he died of being 92," she replied.

On the paternal side of my family the concept of "happy" was certainly not in the lexicon; however, even by the standards of people who never felt any form of joy on any level, this dude was considered really unhappy.

My sister's theory was that he was secretly gay. She bases this on a picture of him shown at the funeral in which he looks somewhat feminine.

"That explains why he was so unhappy," she reasoned. I think it is more than that, I'm not secretly gay yet I struggle to obtain a level of just ok.

Uncle Clint was married to some unfortunate woman, who divorced him sometime in the 70's, they had two sons one of which did not attend the service.

I golfed with him a few times, which he appeared to moderately enjoy. I try to enjoy golfing, but in all honesty find it stressful.

My family suffers from a low to moderate level of anxiety on a consistent basis, and I have clung to this legacy.

Since my daughters are not burdened with my genetics I am hopeful they will not suffer from this same plight.

My Uncle Clint didn't die of cancer at 92, although objectively he had all the qualities of someone who should have been filled with cancer.

This has lead me consider the possibility disease may just be afraid to reside inside me....so I may be onto something.