When I read this post from Just a grail, I couldn’t help to think that she wrote something I’ve been thinking about for a while. It’s true that when I say that I’m fat, people always come back with a line like “No, you’re not!” But I know I am.
I’m not obese, but I’m fat. I carry too much weight, that’s for sure. I realised that, unlike so many of us, I’m not a health freak nor am I focusing only on my weight. I’ve come to accept (I should write tolerate here) the image our mirrors are reflecting back at me. I’m not saying that I love what I see. It’s not that. I just don’t want to be one of those people who constantly complain about how fat they are and do nothing about it. What pisses me off is when I hear or see a small person and they talk about losing weight. Even my husband, who isn’t fat in any way, that man is fit, still would like to lose his belly. That’s what he calls it. I believe I have a gorgeous man who’s tall and firm. I’m happy with that, wish he was as well.
At times I wonder if his wanting to lose weight is his way to tell me that I should as well, but I don’t think he’d be that subtle. Not that he can’t be, he could, but not with me and not for this. I might be wrong, but I doubt it.
Remember a few weeks ago when I wrote about that friend I had not seen nor talk to in years, which confessed he liked me “back then”, that I was hot? His comment triggered something, besides the thoughts “What back then? Does that mean he thinks I don’t look good anymore?” I kind of realised that I’m aging, and in the process I’m noticing that my body is changing. Put aside the friggin’ menopause, and I still see signs. I wish they were the Mel Gibson kind, but they’re not. Age catches up to all of us, I realise that. I also know that as we age it becomes harder to lose weight, to remain firm… I know a man, in his sixties, who trains daily, his body looks good but despite all that, his face (and neck) are showing that he’s no longer a young stud. He thinks he still is, but he’s not…
So… if I recap, I’m fat and aging… nice. Really cheerful, isn’t it? Argh, where’s a big enough rock for me to crawl under? Imagine this, I feel this way and I’m not even a blond American woman. There’s no way in heck that I could be happy being a fat brunette, is there? I’d have to look tight, with shoot up lips and not a roll in sight… Geez, thank Gawd I’m Canadian!