I’m not looking for any applause or anything, but my A1C level dropped almost two points according the results of my last doctor’s visit. And, after examining my less-than-ballerina-like physique, it was easy to see the good doctor was dumbfounded. After all, according to other results of this bittersweet visit, I’ve somehow gained weight. But apparently I’m doing something right. And as my doctor said, “If it’s working, keeping doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

This edict from my beloved physician, however, does lead me to ponder. What exactly am I doing to get all my levels moving in the right direction? I’ve pretty much given up on the notion that I’m actually dieting. I don’t consider watching the things I eat before shoveling them into my face dieting. But I have noticed the ratio of my picking up a bag of tree nuts to picking up junk food has shifted in favor of the nuts. That’s not really dieting. I like walnuts. I like pecans. I’m still eating what I want. I just think I’ve been injected with some odd serum that’s changing my tastes. (Sneaky little doctor.)

Also, the notion of pigging out and dragging all that raw tonnage out into the blistering heat we’ve been experiencing lately has been downright frightening. Whatever thin people may be struggling with when the thermometer rises into the triple digits, imagine doing it with what feels like someone’s washing machine strapped to your backside. It’s so bad that I’m starting to think that all my glorious man-pudge, while such a delight to behold, may actually be what my doctor has described as “ridiculous” and “potentially life-threatening.” (I swear some people just can’t appreciate a full-figured beauty these days.)

Lastly, I’ve been intentionally cutting back on the treats in part because of my latest realization in the clothing department. My waistline is getting dangerously close to size 50. And I’ve always told myself that if my waistline reached the 50 mark, given my health, my age may not. And if for no other reason than to see a few more cold, brisk winters, I have to do whatever I can to stick around. Or at the very least, outlast what is shaping up to be one scorcher of a summer. After all, if I melt, there could be quite a mess to clean up at this size.

Seriously, though, while my health numbers are improving during the summer swelter, I guess it’s finally sinking into my Milk Dud of a head that the choices we make do make a difference in the long run. A bag of nuts instead of a candy bar here. Taking a walk instead of laying around there. Getting up and doing something instead of taking that nap.

I guess it all adds up. Or at least, it subtracts a couple of A1C points.