How do you feel the day after Christmas? No brainer. I feel fat.
Not to say I don’t always feel fat-ish. Except for the few blessed with great DNA for the svelte style of the last few decades (remember when Marilyn Monroe was the public’s idea of the perfect woman?) and/or a great sense of moderation, many women my age grumble about their weight.
When I look at a photo of me in any given situation from my 30’s or 40’s, my thoughts tend to go in this order…1) I remember that event; what a great time, 2) Look at how young we looked, 3) Look at how thin I was.
Now before people yell at me “love yourself as you are” or “body image is given too much weight,” pun slightly intended, I want to assure you that I do love myself as I am. I just don’t like my weight. I don’t feel that I am my weight. I just prefer to not weigh so much.
Here’s an example of love of my physical image. I stopped coloring my hair. The idea that God gave me my hair color yet I have chosen for years to pour on, and rub in, chemicals to my head seems just stupid. My brothers are in their 70’s and I’m a lot grayer than they are. My husband is 4 years younger than I and looks 10 years younger. That bothers me a little, but oh well. My hair is as it should be and I like it. Even if I look older.
But I choose to keep my hair the color it naturally is.
I’m not so sure God intended me to be unhealthy. And part of being unhealthy is my weight.
It’s a combination of not liking that I look like SpongeBarb SquarePants (I make sure never to wear yellow), not wanting to spend money on new clothes, and not liking being winded when I climb stairs.
So where do holidays fit in? Holidays give us a ready-made excuse to unfettered merrymaking and rich, traditional food. Not doing anything in moderation anyway, opens the pie-with-whipped-cream-is-a-breakfast-food thinking. Justification? Coffee Cake is a breakfast food. Like that justifies it.
So I’m feeling overweight this morning. Because I am.
The question is, what am I going to do about it?