Mike Maddock Actor Lloyd Bridges played the part of an air traffic controller with numerous addictions in the classic comedy, Airplane! In the movie, the plane’s pilots have fallen prey to a mysterious illness, and an emotionally scarred war pilot turned passenger is the only one left to land the plane.

Bridges’ character is trying to guide the fragile pilot to a safe landing, but along the way, numerous mishaps occur. Every time something happens, Bridges’ character decides he’s picked the wrong week to give up one of his addictions.

By the end of the movie, he’s floating through the control tower in a haze of cigarettes, alcohol, and of course, glue fumes. This week, I’m feeling a little like Lloyd Bridges’ character.

I’ve never been much for sniffing glue, but I do have numerous addictions. These addictions aren’t going to crash a plane, but they are wrecking any chance I may have for a flat stomach. The growth spurt I’ve been waiting for since the seventh grade is finally occurring, but it’s not reaching my legs. It seems to have found a home around my waistline, and unless I give up the nightly fudge–sicles, that’s where it’s going to stay.

So this week, I decided to get healthy again...and that’s when the sky started falling. As I gave up the two or three deserts a night along with the extra Coca–Colas during the day, and tried to choke down a salad or two, my 11–year–old dog passed away, my two–year–old son bopped his eye on the corner of the TV, my five–year–old daughter entered another one of those extremely grumpy stages, my wife’s insides decided to explode, my eyes turned blood red as the whole world turned pollen yellow, and...oh yeah...it’s tax time.

I decide it’s time to start doing a few sit–ups, and my world falls apart. Well, I can take a hint. Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit eating chili–cheese burgers.

My stomach can just keep on expanding, because I can’t fight with will power while my wife is suffering in an emergency room in excruciating pain. The adventure that is a trip to the ER is enough to send me diving head first into a carton of Breyers Chocolate Chip Ice Cream.

When did emergency rooms become waiting rooms anyway? Our visit felt more like a trip to the DMV than to the ER. After several hours and very little attention, my wife came to the conclusion a handful of Advil and her own bed would be better than sharing a bench with someone with the sniffles for eight hours. I came to the conclusion my abs could just look like water balloons a little longer.

Life can throw many curve balls, and if I have to look more like Babe Ruth than Barry Bonds to hit them, then so be it. A Snickers bar and couple of hot dogs are little less incapacitating than glue fumes anyway.

So regardless of what stress bomb is around the corner next, I’ll be OK...a little chubbier, but OK. As has been the case since I started the battle with my waistline, I picked the wrong week to start eating salads.

When life gives you lemons, make lemon meringue pie.