Moose Stress

I lay here on the floor of our poorly-carpeted living room.  Sunday afternoon.  The sound of fans purchased from Walmart years ago is drumming away the day.  The obnoxious roommates have all dozed off or retired to their rooms, and the rest of us are quietly typing/reading having ran out of offensive things to say to each other and embraced the calm.

The show that caused the rest to zonk was a Netflix documentary about Stress.  As I listened to the show, I realized that the Moose lived a life overwhelmed with stress.  Consider the effect chronic-stress has on health:

1. Hair loss - this is more evident in us who don't have AWG 18 thick hair like Moose did.  But he did thin out a bit as the company went under.
2. Metabolism - increased cortisol leads to slower metabolism.
3. Cravings - how often did Moose wander the kitchen out of shear boredom rather than nutritional need?
4. Fat Storage - here's the clencher: chronic-stress not only adds fat, but determines particularly where that fat is located.  It adds fat to the abdominal region.  Dangerous fat.  Fat there tends to cause more health problems later in life than anywhere else.  
5. Emotional Eating - how often Moose would say something like, "if we could just get this company to turn the corner" before stacking up a few avocado sandwiches?
6. Fast Food - when the Moose doesn't have time to make healthy food: "We've reedee got to crank this business.  Where will it be Al?  Upchuckarama?  Ruby Tuesdee's?  Costco squirt dogs?"
7. Too Busy to Exercise - remember those days when Moose went out to do laps in the pool?  I don't either.  I remember just the steaks and hamburgers he'd cook before lounging on a couple of pool noodles.

So now think of us Wilson boys.  Silhouette us in your mind.  We're all becoming little replicas of the old Moose's silhouette.  Legs? Decent.  Arms? Decent.  Shoulders?  Maybe better than decent.  Double chin?  Sneaking into existence.  Butt?  N/A.  Gut?  TERRIBLE.

My gut is the worst of the three of us.  Adam's is blatantly shameful.  Luke's is an absolute joke considering how in shape he used to be.  And I'm the worst.  Compound that with the fact that I'm yet to be married, and you can see how this stress-fat concept is a real problem.

So how does a person remedy this Moose Stress?  There are several options.  None of which Wilsons are known for... healthy snacking, yoga, journaling, active lifestyle, turning off the TV, etc.

So here we sit.  Over stressed because we've gotten into too much debt, stayed in school for too long, guiltily eaten ourselves into sloppy shape, put off adult responsibilities for years on end, and failed in minor diverse ways (consider Beth's "snake and vacuum" poem).

The trouble is that we err in philosophy.  We feel like we're really grabbing life by the horns if we give the illusion of business.  Adam would love it if those Californians could see him cruising in a Corvette convertible looking the part of a CEO, on the cell phone while listening to NPR and Michael Jackson simultaneously.  A package of something important-looking sitting in the passenger seat, all while oscillating his left hand in the wind while driving with his knee.  Luke purposely leaves rolled up construction plots in the back of his Lex to give the same illusion:  I'm dynamic!  I'm gettin' it!  I'm on the ball!  And Moose would have loved it if he and Roger could have ridden horses to work everyday driving cattle to boot.

The irony of our sorry illusions is that we're not CEOs, we're seldom organized, we (Luke) never clean the inside of our cars, and we're definitely not cowboys.  We're lazy.  We don't have self-control necessary to hold off on that last twinkie.

The solution is to value a balanced life over that of one which falsely projects the notion of being the world's greatest multitasker.  Lower stress, healthier body, healthier eating, more fulfillment, less nonsense.  It's a recursive win/win.