Welcome to
Sandy's Corner

When Ladies Gain Weight
Sandy Dickson

     For you ladies especially, weight and age are both dreaded terms and when one is young, she thinks time will stand still and she will always be that way: svelte and head-turning.
    Only other women get older-looking with years, but for yourself, youth will stretch out endlessly and you will always be the same, with any aging coming very gracefully and subtly, almost undetectable.
     Yet you begin to notice that men don’t turn their heads anymore, and you don’t hear anyone wolf-whistling after you like they once did. What are they, blind? Surely at least, they are sidetracked, that’s all.
     Then one day around your 50th birthday, your AARP card arrives unsolicited in the mail, whether you apply for it or not. Crazy, you think. How did they know you were 50? Is someone sneaking around watching you buy clothes? It must be those spies you’ve heard about in the department store dressing rooms that watch from discrete peep holes through the ceilings. Or perhaps the sales lady is observing you sneak back to the rack to grab a larger size than the one you originally took into the dressing room that didn’t fit. Hmmmph. They must be keeping lists and turning them over to the AARP.
     Okay, you go home with your fat clothes purchases and decide to sooth yourself by stopping for a cup of nice hot coffee with a tasty lunch.
      The clerk says, “Do you want the senior coffee?”
     “No,” you say indignantly and totally shocked.
     “Why? You’re old enough for it,” he persists.
     That did it. Contrary to your plans, you now order only coffee to go, pay for it, and get back into your car. You’re not going to have your lunch there after all. Why stay where you’ve been insulted? You’ll go down the street where they are nicer.
      You get up to the counter and order your meal.
     “Would you like to use your senior discount?”
     “What?”
     “Your senior discount,” she repeats, adding, “You’re entitled to it you know.”
      Well, you’re hungry and why not save a few cents? You look around to see if anyone you know heard the conversation. Surely no one else thinks you are 50. There’s just something wrong with these people. Someone probably tipped her off that you recently had a birthday.
     You mutter something gracious and accept your discount lunch. Drat!
     When you get home, you try on your new jeans. Yikes, maybe you should have gone with a larger size after all. Where are those pliers when you really need them? But you knew when you tried them on that you were going to lose weight, so you bought the ones a bit snug reasoning that not only will they be an inspiration for you to strive to fit into, but that you won’t have wasted money on something too large for you when you get your girlish figure back.
     Gee, that’s strange, you think the next morning, when you get last season’s blouse out and it doesn’t seem to fit anymore. It’s especially peculiar because you have noticed the very same thing with not only your slacks, but your dresses. Something scientific happens to clothes and materials in storage where they shrink, you decide.
     Even your shoes have gotten a bit tight because of bunions. You wonder if it has anything to do with all that extra pressure on your poor little feet. But on a positive note, at least your socks still fit.
      To make matters worse, you read by some health expert, that each extra pound of weight one puts on, puts an extra 10 pounds of pressure on one's knees. No wonder your knees are getting occasional little shooting stabs of pain.
     Just because you happen to know where all the Dairy Queens are between Chicago and Florida on snowbird road trips proves nothing.
      You lament to your friends that you're getting too fat for your clothes, who used to reply, “Oh, you’re not fat.” Now they say, “Well, maybe you’ll lose some weight and be able to get back into them.” But you know they mean well. 
     Gentle lines are forming around your mouth, but you reason they are from all those years of laughing. Everyone loves laughter and happy people—this is a good thing. You hope this doesn’t mean that in five years, you’ll look like a bulldog, however.
     You’ve learned not to try to spiff up by applying a little face powder; it gets caught in the cracks and creases, showing every line on your face—ones you never knew were there, and surely just formed under the powder.
     You used to have an hourglass figure, but now all the sand seems to have gone to the bottom. You've already had your bicycle seat changed to that extra large one--just in case you ever decide to ride your bike again, 'course the tires would have to be inflated again. Who can ever sit on those tiny little bicycle seats anyway? Now that's your personal version of a hangover. And definitely no bearing of legs above the knees anymore, (except maybe on a bicycle ride.)  Otherwise, good-bye shorts! Your legs look like roadmaps for one thing. No sense in exposing others to such horrors. But also, you realize you don’t get enough exercise.
     You decide to go to the gym and begin a workout regime. You’ll go faithfully every day.
     Whew, that was a bit more tiring than you expected. Once a week should be fine.
     Well, you manage, after about five months to lose a few pounds and you feel better. You can walk on the tread mill longer and you feel your stamina is up some. Now what are you going to do with all that extra skin you’re sure to have when you lose all that fat that’s underneath?
     You devise the perfect strategy for if you slip back into your old ways and weight as you approach 51 and beyond. You plan to explain this by reminding people how some folks grow hair to donate for human hair wigs for those in need, and tell them you have decided to grow extra skin to donate to the nearest burn center.  
     Perhaps there is some truth to putting on weight as you get older, though you refused to believe it before—insisting it was a figment of people’s imaginations. Hormones. But you’re not going to let some tiny hormones get the best of you.
     You look at other ladies in your age category. Hmmmm. The same thing seems to be happening to them. When did they—we--get this way? Is it time to acquiesce and discard the slimmer clothes in your closet?
     No, you will simply pack them up and move them to the garage. You’ll wear them again someday. Or, perhaps your daughters would like to wear them. They’re pretty spiffy clothes.  They were your favorites.
     You haul them out and propose this burst of generosity to your daughters, (Well, okay, grand daughters) apprehensive there may even be a fight over them.
     They look at each other and snicker.
     “Mo-ommmmm,” they say as they giggle. (or Graaaaaaaaam!)
     “What?”
    “We can’t wear those.” They can’t stop laughing.
     “What do you mean?” you say, but you really get it. You still don’t see anything wrong with them at all, and regret that you temporarily can’t wear them, but you get it. They aren’t stylish enough for them.
     “Never mind,” you say. “I’ll give them to the Salvation Army. Then when I lose weight, I can get all new clothes.”
    “Yeah, you can and you should anyway. But I hope someone at the Salvation Army can use these,” one of them snickers.
    “They were perfectly fine several years ago and I’ve taken good care of them through all this time. Some have been packed away 30 years and not even seen the light of day. There’s nothing wrong with them.”
     You’re just a slightly older version of young and you feel no different at all. Then you stalk off to the bathroom and get the hair color bottle out for a touch-up.

 

Copyright © 2009 Sandy Dickson. All rights reserved.