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My doctor said I needed to get into shape.

I politely reminded him that a potato was a shape.

I laughed. He didn’t. Neither did my wife.

My best material is wasted on some people.

Like everyone else the past year, I have not been able to be as active as I like. It has caused me to gain a few more pounds than I like.

I went from about 220 to about 260. It has played havoc. Most notably on my waist.

So here I am sitting at the doctor’s office looking at my numbers.

He is pointing out what I have to do to get my weight back under control.

Eat right, exercise, make regular sacrifices to the weight watchers gods.

I am not so sure about the first two, but I think I could do the last one.

We get home and my wife immediately launches into her persona of taking charge of the situation. I find myself limited to two cups of coffee.

She has to be joking. Does she mean at the same time? In the same hour?

I might be able to limit myself to two an hour.

A day. No. Not no, but hell no.

I am looking it up, but such limitations have got to be a violation of human rights. It has got to be in the Geneva Convention somewhere.

What do you mean limited computer time?

I have to actually move? Not moving is the exact reason I have two desktops and a laptop this close and a chair that swivels and roles so I would not have to move to get things.

I do walk to the bathroom. To the kitchen. To the bed.

Yes, I admit freely the idea I can be healthier. I do not have to start hitting the gym on an hourly basis. I can be more active.

I just need to find my motivation.

I am sure it is around here somewhere. Maybe in the closet behind the thigh master and right under the buns of steel video.

I will look for it right after I finish my bowl sized coffee cup.

She did say two cups a day. She never said how big to make each cup.

Michael Cole is a syndicated columnist that when he is not writing, he is plotting global domination. You can follow him at www.storyoveracup.com