Annals of Aging, #6719: the belly. After a struggle with my weight in my twenties, detailed in Loose Woman - going up and down 20 or 30 pounds - it all settled with motherhood. In the last decades, I've felt blessed, consuming wine and dark chocolate every day, cheese and pasta, bread and peanut butter, not in vast quantities, but plenty, no self denial here. Yet my weight has remained relatively stable, I guess from moving the body, thank you bicycle, gardening, YMCA.
Until Covid. The weight went up, I'm struggling to get it down, and it's all in the belly. My middle feels swollen, pregnant. That's what happens at 72, unless you're willing to stop eating chocolate and drinking wine, i.e. enjoying life, which I'm not. So - stretchy waistbands and loose tops. And complaining.
Speaking of giving up pleasure, on the news tonight: no quantity of wine is healthy, they say, all alcohol leads to heart disease and cancer. Listened to the segment and poured myself a glass of rosé. I'll take my chances. Drink far less than I used to, but it's my only sin, and I'm certainly not giving that up.
Today my young tech helper Patrick came with his microphone and we taped the first episode of my possible podcast, True to Life: how to tell your story. I sat at my desk and talked for 15 minutes about Why Write Memoir? We'll see how it sounds and if it works. The plan is to do nine episodes on aspects of craft, and also to interview other nonfiction writers.
I've started a new ritual: a walk after dinner. I walk round the 'hood, checking out gardens, spying in windows, chatting with neighbours, ending up at huge Riverdale Park to watch baseball - tonight, three games going - and in the middle, dogs going wild, chasing each other, leaping and rolling, people picnicking on the hill, a wonderful scene. And sky, wide open sky. C'town streets are lined with huge old trees, much shade from the hot sun; how blessed we are. As I walked down the hill, I overheard two young women talking about Anastasia. "She's in Colombia getting her butt done. They suction the fat out. And she's getting veneers." Yikes. What are veneers anyway?
More Annals of Aging: bristly chin hairs, fading memory, aching joints. But STILL HERE, butt intact. Raising a glass of rosé in a toast: to being still here.
So far so good.
Wine, chocolate, nurturing friendships, lively curiosity, the capacity for love -- surely these are foundational to daily life? I've watched my body change over the years, widen, even with regular exercise, and mostly I'm ok with it (becoming my grandmother?) because honestly one alternative is too scary to contemplate.
ReplyDeleteTheresa
Like you, I'm okay with it too, mostly. I was going to delete the post because it seems so petty and foolish, with what's going on in the world, to fuss about belly fat. But I was pretty sure others could relate, and a friend has already written to me about it. But as I said, we're lucky to be here, that's what matters!
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