Is there anything we think about more than eating? [She writes while drinking coffee and eating her favorite homemade peanut butter granola…]
If I had a donut for every time one of my girlfriends or I uttered the words,
“I wish I could eat whatever I want…”
I’d be. Well, I’d be not skinny. Or even average.
Every woman alive knows and understands the unspoken end of that sentence:
“…And not have to worry about it…and not gain weight..and not get fat…and not have to think about every last calorie and carbohydrate…”
There’s lots of ways to say it, but it all means the same thing.
I’m not entirely sure at what age it starts for most women because it’s hard for me to remember a time when I wasn’t thinking critically about everything I put in my mouth and if I’m going to gain weight from it. Some days I think about it less than others, but as I get older, most days I think about it more.
It certainly doesn’t always stop me. Because hey, life is short– drink the beer, eat the cupcake, blah blah blah…But it’s always there. Like a heavy weight. Like a burden. Like the entire future of my figure [and therefore elements of my future happiness, because listen: that’s just the way it is ] are always hanging in the balance of the fork and spoon. It’s the little angel and little devil sitting on either shoulder. One of them (and I’m never sure who’s who…?) is always saying, “Treat yo self!” and the other is always saying, “Seriously? You’re going to regret that. It’s not worth it. Don’t do it.”
As you might imagine, this is an exhausting way to live. I hate it. The women around me hate it. And I wish it were that easy to be the type of woman who is too smart and too interesting and too busy living her richest, fullest life to waste time being so trivial. Because we all know there are worse things to be than a few pounds up. And so like everything else, I’m trying to find the balance; Making good choices when I can, forgiving myself when I don’t, and moving forward, one bite at a time.