Healthy Schmealthy

My son and I both had doctor appointments this week.  I like both our Docs, they are nice folks, but I have noticed of late that the practice of medicine seems to involve a lot more talking than it used to.  I mean there was always the need to communicate when you were sick: "what hurts?" "how long has it hurt?" etc.  But nowadays it seems like we spent about 20 of the 25 minutes we were with the Doc getting a lecture.  Me?  I get it.  I'm overweight and I have all the fun side effects of eating too much.  I'm a grown up, I have been through this with doctors for years, but essentially all I really need from them is a piece of paper that allows me to get medicine to offset my unhealthy habits and lack of willpower.
Jack on the other hand, is a skinny little guy who has yet to hit puberty, and he gets it much worse than I do.  Several times today I could not suppress a ridiculous smile as my visibly uncomfortable eleven year old was told by his ebullient and grandmotherly Indian doctor about how his "penis was going to get bigger and harder," and then proceeded to do the always awkward hernia check.
His annual "physical" consisted of listening to his chest, looking in eyes, ears, nose and throat, and checking his male bits, and the rest was all talking: diet, girls, smoking, drugs, alcohol.  I was like, "holy moly, I'm glad I don't have to go through all that with my Doc, it's just plain terrifying (and hilarious to me)."
I don't ever remember having conversations like that with my parents, let alone my doctor. Honestly, I'm not knocking it, because for a while there it seemed like medicine was trending towards a weird mix of plumbing and chemistry, and Doctors could practically operate on a drive through basis once they had the nurse take all your vitals.  It would appear to have bent back in the other direction at least a little.
But I kind of want a little more mechanical or chemical magic to it.  I mentioned to my Doc the other day that it would be cool if one of these many medicines that I take for blood pressure, or the new one I'm going on for cholesterol could have weight loss as a side effect.  I'm not saying I want speed or anything, but couldn't we figure out how to do something for the root cause of what really ails me other than saying: you need to eat less and exercise more?
I know that may be news to some people, but I've been fat or at least a little tubby since I was eight years old, I'm pretty sure I know what causes it.  I'm pretty sure I know it's bad for me, but food is good.  As I sat listening to the speech the doctor was giving my 78 pound son about healthy diet, I thought to myself: "that doesn't seem like any fun whatsoever."  All the things we are supposed to avoid are the things that taste the best, and the things that make you feel good, and the things that help you numb an otherwise meaningless existence... hold on, back up a step, forget that last thing.
Existence has meaning, at least I think so.  To quote the only part of the Westminster Catechism that I have committed to memory: "What is the chief end of man?  To glorify God and enjoy him forever."  God made bacon cheeseburgers, and cheesecake and M freaking Ms (or at least their component parts), what gives with diabetes and high cholesterol dude, that's just not fair.
Going to the doctor always raises questions for me about mortality, as I suspect it does for most people. When I meet God, which given my current state of health should be in about 30-40 years tops, I'm going to ask him why so many good things were so bad for our bodies.  I have no gripe with mortality in general, but if we're only given a certain number of days, why do we have to be so darn careful about what we eat during those days?  Why can't we just live it up?  Why are there so many dire consequences for indulging?  I get that gluttony is a sin, but I'm not idolizing pizza, I'm just eating more of it than I should.  A cheesesteak in no way impairs my ability to pray or worship God, in fact, many a time have I given thanks over a grease and cheese soaked Sarcone roll, and sitting in front of a pile of crabs loaded with Old Bay is a religious experience indeed.
If heaven is real, it is going to need to smell like a sub shop or a crab house, and maybe occasionally like curry, if I'm really going to be able to call it paradise.
Hmmm, it would appear that perhaps my priorities are a little more out of whack than I had thought.
Stupid diet.