Pandemic Pounds and How to Disguise Them
Pandemic Pounds and How to Disguise them
Today I went to an outdoor event. I wore black pants with a white top, a scarf and a black sweater. What’s the big deal about that? Nothing if it were December… but It’s July. It’s 100 degrees outside. I think I melted like the bad witch in the Wizard of Oz. They don’t make ruby red slippers in a size 10 so I wore a pair of ankle boots that the dog had chewed the back off. The pants were long enough so no one could see.
The event was at 2 p.m. At 1:40 I started getting ready. At 1:50 I left the house and I was there on time. Two of my sons were there and I told them they had one thing to look forward to in their old age; their wives will be able to get ready in ten minutes. I’ve been on trips with my daughter-in-laws and I love them to the moon and back but if you are going out to dinner at 6 p.m. they have to start getting ready at 3 p.m. I’m sure when I was their age I was the same way but that’s been so long ago I can’t remember. There are not that many things great about getting older, but being able to get ready faster than a pit crew can put a tire on a race car is one of them.
But back to the first paragraph of this post. Are you wondering why I wore a sweater and scarf when it’s hot enough outside to melt the polar ice cap? The sweater was long and so was the scarf. If I positioned the scarf just right you couldn’t see the extra 20 pounds I gained while Bill was in the hospital. I’m guessing I’m not the only one who gained pandemic pounds. Staying home (or in a hospital) all the time makes it easy to eat too much.
Whales are supposed to have blubber…No humans
I know. I know. Vanity thy name is woman.
People look at me and say, “You are so tall you can handle the weight.” Yeah, right. I can handle my love handles just fine but my clothes can’t. Nothing zips, buttons or snaps the way it once did. My granddaughter’s advice was buy a bigger size. She’s right, of course, but I’m not going to do it. I don’t want to give up a whole closet of clothes just because they don’t fit anymore. They might fit again one day, right?
My son gave me advice, too. “Mom, you are over 60. Give it up.” What he really meant was “No one cares what an old person looks like. Get over yourself.” He made me feel a lot better….not.
The thing is because I am tall I give the appearance of being thin until you get to my stomach….not thin….not even close. Picture a snake who has swallowed a large egg. That’s me. My arms aren’t fat….my legs aren’t fat….I just look like a 64 year old pregnant lady who very much wishes she could give birth to the bubble on her mid-section.
Perspective
A few weeks ago I wrote a post about perspective. I know that Charles Swindell was right when he said….
What really matters is my health, not my shape. I know that, I really do. My mom complained about ten pounds she wanted to lose for years and then she got cancer. She lost a lot more than ten pounds and a year later she died.
The Solution
The right thing to do is eat salads and exercise but I love pasta, pizza and sweets. What’s a girl (an old girl) to do?
Right now I have a pot of pinto beans simmering on the stove and pork chops thawing for the grill. I’ll start my diet tomorrow or the next day, or maybe the next. Until then I’m wearing my stretchy yoga pants, eating pinto beans and wearing loose fitting tops and scarfs…lots of scarfs.
My old favorite jeans are okay hanging out together in my closet until (if and when) I can zip them again. They can wait until then and I can too.
