My father had a pair of Ray Ban Aviator sunglasses. They were kept in his flight bag and used only when he was flying. He sometimes wore another pair of sunglasses for driving, but not often. I knew that even looking into his flight bag was entirely off limits. Even after I had earned my pilot’s license and had permission to borrow a sectional chart or use his plotter or other tools, I didn’t touch his sunglasses case.

As an adult, I’ve had several pairs of sunglasses and paid dearly for some of them because I always need prescription glasses. It was only earlier this year that I ordered a pair of Ray Ban Aviators for myself. I like those sunglasses and wear them a lot more often now that I have them. I also get some lovely comments on them.

I have never been very good at accepting compliments. I try to remind myself that one of the most polite things one can do is to say, “Thank you.” Still, I’m tempted to disagree and slough off a compliment with a line like, “I’m just another old white guy,” or “Did someone pay you to say that?” So I’ve been working on being polite when people compliment me on my sunglasses.

I’ve been thinking of saying, “They are part of my new diet plan,” and following up with a complex story that goes something like this: I have decided to wear Ray Ban Aviators because if I were to shave off my mustache and beard, I might look a little bit like President Joe Biden. Since I am not qualified to run for President and I don’t possess the skills to lead the nation, my only chance of becoming president is by deception. I occasionally get my facts mixed up, and I can ramble on and on, which is a skill all of the US Presidents possess since Obama. I am thinking about running for President, not because I want to be president, but because I’m considering the health benefits. I recently read that the 47th President completed a physical exam and was listed as 6 feet 3 inches tall, weighing 224 pounds, with a body fat of 4.8%. One article I read said that when he was booked in New York, he was 5 feet 10 inches and weighed 287 pounds. If getting elected can make a person grow 5 inches, lose 63 pounds, and go from being obese to overweight, it seems worth a shot.

Of course, the numbers in the above paragraph don’t make sense. I’m pretty sure that both sets of numbers are wrong. The body mass index doesn’t jive with any height and weight numbers. It appears to be a made-up number. The numbers reported in the article don’t seem to be authentic. His booking documents from the New York case stated he was 6 feet 2 inches tall and weighed 240 pounds. Three months later, he surrendered at Fulton County Jail in Atlanta, where he was recorded at 6 feet 3 inches tall and 215 pounds. Those are pretty remarkable numbers. I’d accept growing an inch and losing 25 pounds in three months.

Reporter Jules Suzdaltsev converted a photo of the 47th president standing next to several family members into pixels and posted the results on the social media platform X. In the photo, taken at the funeral of Melania Trump, he was next to son Barron Trump and Melania’s father, Viktor Knavs. “This pic of Barron & Trump makes it trivially easy to compare their heights. Trump is 458 pixels tall, and Barron is 508 pixels tall. If Trump were 6’3”, Barron would be a hair short of 7ft tall. But Barron is 6’7 . . .” Suzdaltsev said.

There you have it. Not only does being president make one shorter and lighter, but your children also get taller! On the other hand, the different heights and weights demonstrate either wild swings or intentional lying. Both are common among those who struggle with their weight. I confess that I’ve been on the ups and downs of diet bandwagons for decades, and I have not consistently reported my weight accurately. I’ve also been known to round up my height by a quarter of an inch. Neither my height nor weight shown on my driver’s license matches my height and weight at my last visit to the doctor.

When I go to the doctor, however, my weight is listed as greater than the number I claim, not the other way around. When I retired, I purchased a digital scale that reports in the tenth of a pound. I weigh myself daily and record that weight on a phone app. I know what I weigh. However, the scale at my doctor’s office always shows me a couple of pounds more than my home scale.

Of course, there is no magic pill for being overweight. However, a medicine called Ozempic has been approved for treating type 2 diabetes. The same drug is marketed under the name Wegovy for long-term weight management. I discussed medication with my doctor at my last visit because I am frustrated by my inability to meet my weight loss goals. I checked and I am not sure of the cost, but my insurance does not cover the medicine when used for weight management, only for diabetes. I am not diabetic, so my out-of-pocket cost would be somewhere between $150 and $450 per month were I to choose that route.

I am not overweight because of a lack of information. I understand the formula of calories in and calories out. For two years, I followed an instructional program that included daily lessons on mindful eating, controlling snacks, choosing healthy foods, and lifestyle change. Since retiring, I have achieved significant weight loss, a long plateau, and some weight gain. I currently weigh 25 pounds less than my highest weight.

I’m not willing to undergo what it takes to become a politician, especially the part about lying. I am also not inclined to pay thousands of dollars per year for medicine with long-term side effects, perhaps for life. Careful food choices and regular exercise seem to be my best plan.

My son is taller than I, and my grandson and I are the same height. I'll be shorter than both by the year's end. I like wearing my new sunglasses when riding my bike, though.