The Weight of the World, At Least of Mine

I am not a vain person.  My favorite places to buy clothes are EBay and Goodwill.  I can’t remember the last time there was something on my feet that didn’t have a Crocs emblem. (Ok, so I have a broken toe and can only comfortably wear a particular pair of flip flops, but still…)  I get my hair cut at Super Cuts.  I only shave my legs once a week.  I’ve never, and I mean NEVER, plucked a single eyebrow.  Not a single one.

So why am I suddenly so obsessed by my weight?

As I’ve reached menopause, I’ve put on a few pounds.  I’ve lost my rear end, it either fell off somewhere while I wasn’t looking or was run over by a steamroller.  Whatever was there, however, was somehow recovered and relocated to my belly.  At the age of 46, 3 weeks from 47, my body apparently figured out I had long past puberty and for the first time in my life I have breasts larger than those of a 12 year old boy.  The result of all this?  The wardrobe I had so thoughtfully put together with my wins on EBay no longer fit me.  Six months ago, I had a blazer collection to die for.  Tonight, I made myself get rid of all those things I could no longer button, and, well, I don’t think you can call one blazer that only closes if I hold my breath a collection.

A couple months ago I had come to terms with my body.  I started getting rid of tight clothing and buying stuff bigger.  I actually own more than one bra, and I didn’t have to buy them in the little girls department.  I accepted that I was getting older.  My husband claims I look better (though I’m not sure I’m really buying that, I do know he loves me anyways).

And then a few weeks ago, my mother came over.  My 70 year old mother, who is 3 inches taller than me.  “Mom, wow, did you lose weight?”

“Yes, you are the only one to notice!  I weigh XYZ pounds!”

XYZ pounds.  Hmmphh!  3 inches taller and 10 pounds less.  She is 70, she is supposed to be heavier than me.  And, well, she always has been.  I’ve always been the thin one in the family.  Then she adds that my sister lost weight too.  It’s not supposed to be this way!

So, yes, I am 20 pounds more than I’ve been for most of my life, 20 pounds more than the weight I was in high school.  Heck, 40 pounds more than when I was training for a marathon.  (How was I even healthy then!)  And I don’t know whether to accept it or obsess over it.  I eat good, I’m not even sure what I can change.  In the past week I’ve hardly eaten, but the scale hasn’t even moved. 

Last night, I bought some larger tops on EBay.  Tonight, I put my too small blazers in a bag and put them in the car to take to Goodwill.  Tomorrow I’ll still watch every calorie I eat.

Growing old.  That’s why they have wine!  Wine gets better with age, somehow I need to accept that people do too, even if we are more full bodied!