May 30, 2010
Amazing the power a 1/4 inch number printed on the inside of my pants has over me! If it’s a 4, I think I died and went to heaven, so since I’m in heaven I should probably be eating some chocolate chip cookies, right?
If that small number is a 6, well, whatever. Life is life, right?
If that small number is an 8, it is truly hell and I’m eating carrots and other tasteless crap.
And then there is that small voice in my head. Is it the voice of God or the voice of the devil? No, it sounds just like me, wait it is me!
Several years ago, when I was in the same dilemma as above with slightly different numbers (2, 4, and 6) and my mother-in-law was passing on dessert because she was feeling chubby I filled with feminist self-righteousness and proclaimed, “Really? Are you going to be in a bikini contest any time soon? Have some dessert!”
And I believed that advice. There should be a time in a woman’s life when she is done with diets and skipping desserts and is able to eat, just eat.
I’m just not sure when that time is.
I know I read somewhere that a woman’s weight at 25 should be her natural weight for the rest of her life. But what if at 25 this woman was running 6 miles a day, had never had children and didn’t think eating chocolate every day was a requirement for not killing someone?
I also have a very wise mother who tells me, a bit too emphatically, “A woman’s body changes. See I told you.” Then she lovingly pats my wide rear. She may have been aiming for my shoulder, but big targets…
So, I ask that voice in my head that is a bit too bossy, when? When does a woman stop worrying about what she’s eating?
No, I am not planning on being a contestant in any bikini contests any time soon. But I would like to look slim, even if just slim for my age, this summer on the boat.
Which reminds me of some 40 year old skinny lady I met boating who told me, “It’s not that hard. Just workout and watch what you eat.” (I hope she is hearing voices in her head, her own voice by the way.)
And yes, I do think too many people judge women too quickly by their size.
Which reminds me of the time I was deathly ill, lost 15 pounds and when I returned to work everyone kept going on and on about how great I looked. I kept yelling back at them, “I thought I was going to die!”
So, I wonder, have I hit that when?
One of my girlfriends only worries about offending her socks. ( http://www.redroom.com/blog/ems/outsmarted-by-my-socks.) When all I worry about is offending my socks, I’ll know I hit my “when”.
Another girlfriend has turned her basement into a private workout room. I don’t think her “when” is anywhere near for her. She is so trim and slim that I have a hard time hanging out with her, but no problem giving her advice, “No really, have another piece of cake.”
Another girlfriend moved to Hawaii. I would move to Hawaii just so I could wear Moo-moos all day, every day and not be a fashion boo-boo. When I saw her stateside, she was slim and trim in shorts and a nice fitting blouse. I was the one wearing a flouncy blouse. But maybe, she has found her “when” in Hawaii.
So when, I ask. When do I get to eat chocolate chip cookies to my heart’s delight and not worry about the number on the inside of my pants? I know, when that number is 4. Only it’s creeps so fast to 6 it’s creepy.
I’m boating third week in June. Bikini contests, count me out!
This week, I will try to take my own best advice, and be careful about giving advice that may come back to haunt me.
