I went to the doctor to get some awful infusion for my decrepit bones, and all I could think about was that I’d gained two pounds.
I don’t have a scale at home and I don’t like getting on them but the nurse told me to do it. I was horrified by the two new pounds. Just a few weeks earlier, I’d been to another doctor and I’d found my weight acceptable.
Here’s where it gets good. I complained and whined that I didn’t want to be fat, on top of everything else. Nothing would stop me from being pissed off. I decided it must have been my heavy shoes.
So the next day, I put my shoes in a plastic bag and took them to the market to weigh them in the produce department. The plastic bag shows how thoughtful I am.
Sure enough, two pounds!
Now I can breathe a little easier but this has underscored how deep-rooted the fear of fat is.
But the fear of fat, at this point, is tied up with aging, a dreadful prospect. And yet we must all age, even though the only woman on earth who is really old but not tragic and still hot is Gloria Steinem.
Aging doesn’t suit me and I don’t want it. I have looked at old ladies who are celebrated for their beauty and it’s still awful. It makes me want to just give up. Here’s a 62 year old model who posed for an American Apparel ad:
This is the best you can hope for (unless you’re Gloria Steinem.) You can look like an ancient old crone who has refused to Let Herself Go. And where’s the appeal in that??
As the years go by, try to think of me like this, asking my husband how my butt looks –