The Elderly and His Stomach

I have discovered something in my old age. The cast iron stomach that I once had has been replaced by a temperamental bitch who controls my every gastronomic whim. It is not like I get acid reflux all of the time but when I do it just kicks my ass. I don't remember it being this bad when I was in my 30's (the first sign of accepting your elderly-ness is rounding up on your age). After many sleepless, gas filled nights I finally had an epiphany. Not only is it the type of food but also the TIME that I eat. If I eat too late, my stomach turns into a pumpkin. If I eat food that is too spicy, heavy or creamy and combine it with eating too late, I am guaranteed to be up that night wishing only for an early death. This "Eureka" moment seemed to answer my conundrum but answered a question about the puzzling dining habits of senior citizens everywhere... What is the allure of the Early Bird special? It is not a desire but a necessity. Not only does eating early keep the intestinal bugaboo at bay but it also allows them to get home before it gets dark, obviating the need for a driver to take the wheel because their cataracts cause the headlights to produce awful halos around the lights. But this blog entry isn't about the visual problems of the elderly, it is about my belly and it's capricious behavior...
Chili is my Achilles Heel. I love it. My wife can attest to the fact that I once ate 5 bowls in a single sitting. Needless to say, my gut mistreated me and my family for a totally different reason that night.... But back to my indigestion. I used to pound chili without even thinking about the consequences. Now if I try that, my stomach seems to say "What in the HELL are you trying to do to me?! Knock that shit off!" I become a noisy windbag moaning in my chair watching my stomach bloat and distend. If you need a visual, imagine Violet Beauregarde from the movie "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"....each eructation is followed by a curse of my poor dietary choices. It is not a pretty sight (or sound for that matter)...
So why at age 39 do I still tempt the gastronomic gods? Because I am a man and men are stupid. We tend to forget the error in our ways whenever we are faced with something we really want to do. I admit it. I own it....this admission of guilt still doesn't cure my problem. Do I continue to abuse my body or do I call Uncle and yield to the inevitable? Aging sucks, through and through. But with aging comes a certain amount of wisdom. I now find myself picking and choosing my battles at the dinner table. For instance, if I am going to eat chili, then I am going all in- chili cheese coney or chili cheeseburger...no half assing it. Like a gambler- I am in it to win it, throwing in my chips with these belly bombs hoping that I don't crap out, literally and figuratively. Like that ageless bard Kenny Rogers once crooned in his timeless ballad "The Gambler", if I know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em, I may just survive another night and live to eat another day...