DOES MY BUTT LOOK BIG IN THIS?

At My Age, Do I Even Care?

When I was a young girl, I never thought twice about what I ate or how much of it I was eating. Between being told to “clean your plate,” being reminded about starving children somewhere in the world (yes, that was a thing), and just being hungry all the time, I stayed on the chunky side of average.

In high school, my best friend made Levi’s 501s look like a second skin. Me? My body had other plans. My torso blossomed at the waist and exploded at the hips.
(I had great ankles, though. Very fine ankles. And wrists, too!)

Nanny, my maternal grandmother, would say, “Mamelah, you should lose a few pounds, you have such a lovely face.” Yep. She really said that. And anytime I reached for something of chocolatey goodness, my dad would chime in, “Are you sure you want to eat that?”

So yes, I was aware of my weight. But diet? I never committed. Depriving myself felt barbaric. To me, Yom Kippur and Taco Bell were synonymous.

I tried the Atkins diet. Couldn’t commit. Tried Weight Watchers, couldn’t imagine life without bread and potatoes. Tried the “no food diet.” I dropped from 145 lbs. to 115, and it wreaked havoc on both mind and body.

Eventually, I just clothed the body I had and got on with life.

Then I got married.
And I’ve spent the last 50 years obsessing about my weight. Which is clearly Steve’s fault, right?

I don’t know about you, but I keep waiting for the moment when I finally just stop caring.

At 60, I figured, this is it, I’m free. Nope.
At 70? Surely that’s the turning point. Still nope.

It’s as if I’ve been at war with my body for decades.
Miles of running. Hours at the gym. Mountains climbed. Calories counted.

And now? I’m maintaining. Just maintaining.
Honestly, I’d like to retire from the battlefield, wave the white flag, and declare peace, preferably while eating full-fat ice cream, a slice of fudgy Cheesecake Factory cake, my own box of See’s Candies, gas station fried chicken, and a real Coke.

Just once, I want to eat like a guy.
A guy who doesn’t give a damn if his butt looks big.