Levels of Fatness

I was just thinking of fatness.

I used to be what I thought was “painfully” thin. People would comment that I was so thin, I would blow away in the wind. Actually, where I grew up, it was always very windy in March. Gale force winds around 80 miles per hour. Indeed, I have blown away in the wind.

I hated that joke about turning sideways, sticking out my tongue and looking like a zipper. What genius thought up that stupid wise crack?

The wonderful thing about the olden days was that I could eat and eat and eat and not gain an ounce. I vividly remember eating double Whoppers with cheese like they were no big deal.

Then I went to Germany and lived there for nine months. I went from a bone-thin 92 pounds to 105, thanks to bratwurst, jager schnitzel, spaetzle and Greek food. (Yes, Greek food.) When I came home, American food suddenly was bland and tasteless, and I lost the 13 pounds I had gained.

The best job I ever had was at the Post Office, or so my husband says. Somehow, I wrangled a position pushing mail around on huge carts. My job was to get it from elevator, push it over to a floor scale, have it weighed, then push it to where people were waiting (dejectedly) to sort it. Many of the carts weighed in excess of thousands of pounds. I kept all my slips and totaled them, just for fun. Some nights I would push around 50,000 pounds of mail. I was slim and trim, lean and mean when I worked there. I had arm muscles and leg muscles that went for miles.

I met my husband at the Post Office. (He worked there, too.) My husband hasn’t done much in the meantime to keep me lean and mean, slim and trim. In fact, he is the reason why I am a mother, twice over. Pregnancy will make a woman fat in no time at all. Sure there’s a baby in there, and some other stuff that has no purpose in a woman’s life. In fact, after gaining 42 pounds with the first one, I cried and gave up getting on the scale again. He wasn’t due for another three weeks. I jumped up and down trying to get him out of there.

My husband is also a consummate chow hound. He’s a gastronome. He loves food. I do too, but I have to stop eating before my buttons pop off, and I do. He doesn’t. He has very little self control. Anyway, at 6′ 3″, he can hide excess poundage pretty well. I, on the other hand, am a dwarf at 5′ 3 and one half inches, so ten pounds of extra blubber on me looks like I’m pregnant again.

My husband and I also indulge in really nice wines, usually from California, although we are expanding our repertoire by jumping to the continent of Australia. These days we are also auditioning the fine Spanish wines, like Temperanillo and Riojas. Wine might look light, but it has just as many calories as a beer. Maybe more so, since it’s heavily sugared.

Since my son left for college three years ago, I’ve gained a good 15 pounds. I’d like to have my son as a back-up scapegoat in case the husband one falls through. I can no longer wear tiny little slip dresses with spaghetti straps. That is because when I put those on, I look like a sausage in a casing two sizes too small. I threw away my over-sized tee shirts, because I felt someone of my age should wear something a little more formal. Now I am kicking myself over that move. I could use roomy and comfortable lounge wear.

When I look in the mirror, I see something on my stomach that wasn’t there before. It’s FAT. It’s rather unappetizing, but I’ve seen worse on others, so I’m counting myself lucky.

I don’t have time to exercise, and with the exception of yard work, am pretty sedentary. I like food too much to go on a diet, although I’m thinking of buying my daughter’s ADD pills. They’ve worked wonders on her. I tried several diet “aids” but the side effects weren’t worth it. Plus, I didn’t lose an ounce.

Damn it. I sure wish I was thin.