Getting Plumper By The Year… by Maureen Eich VanWalleghan
It’s Saturday morning and I keep changing my mind about what to post, but as I sit here at my desk with the hiccups, the issue of fat, my fat, being fat keeps swirling in my mind. Fat is a very “politically uncorrect” way to call this state of being, but I don’t feel like sugar-coating things, so If you are easily offended stop here.
Late life spread has occurred for me. It is such a drag. I look in the mirror and see the fat mushrooming over the sides of my pants and I am repulsed. I hate this fat more than my wrinkles. Somehow the wrinkles feel more “natural” in the aging process. But fat just feels like I am not taking care of myself. And to be sure, I am not.
Let me just say this so I can see it for myself. Pizza is not my friend. Pizza is not my friend. I should probably say it a third time since pizza is sitting on my kitchen counter right now calling me like the sirens from the Odyssey. Calling me to my peril. Pizza is the food of the gods and mothers. Last night was pizza night and a movie. Easy cooking for me to be sure. We accommodated the husband with the special pepperoni that he can eat, but I willingly sacrificed myself at the alter of wheat and had the darn pizza even though it was not the gluten-free crust that we can make at home. I have a great need for ease when it comes to eating…and cooking.
I just don’t cook for my family the way I would cook for myself. I don’t usually want to eat what my family wants to eat. And I would not have in my house—not because I don’t like it, but because I have no will power—the food that fills my fridge and cabinets. And now I have the fat to prove it.
My husband is a meat and potatoes man. I am fish eater. When I lived alone I cooked once a week and made enough food to live out of the fridge for the week. I ate fish, salmon every day along with a whole grain, lots of veggies and a ridiculous amount of green apples. Now I eat very different. Not really bad, but…there is so much tempting fare around that I am unhappy with my choices.
Okay so I don’t want to b#$%h, but I am amazed that my husband has will power and will not sacrifice his comfort when something is bad for him. He just won’t eat it and he is accommodated. That is really the crux of the matter. It’s not so much a man thing either. I have women friends who are not fat, I have yet to say they have this ability as well. So the quality to accommodate others at my expense or not, is a solidly good quality and has served me well in work and in many social situations. It does not serve me when it comes to caring for myself.
Now here’s the kicker…I have a daughter, who I want to be a good example for and so this issue of fat and really taking care of myself in terms of exercise and eating what is best for me is an imperative. But just how does one get there: not sure. Really it’s an attitude change I have to make. My husband will shop and buy whatever I want and he is sensitive to the issue that I don’t eat what I should. So really I need to invest the time. Carve out the time with a pick axe for the daily exercise and cooking food that I love. There it is in black and white…maybe a little accountability would help. Anyone want to start a blog on this??
Well, my goal for this week is to make enough fish lunches for the week for myself and have salad for dinner. No so much as a diet, but it’s the food I really like and crave and my body loves. Some of the ingredients for my fish lunches have been out on the counter since last week. Now to invest in myself. To really put my health and comfort first.
Think good thoughts for me and wish me luck…