A Weighty Decision

I grew up in an era when you almost had to be anorexic in order to be deemed attractive. Twiggy was all the rage when I was at an impressionable age. Runway models looked like a strong wind could blow them off stage.

Needless to say, I was not one of them.

In an effort to preserve the self-esteem of chubby little girls, we were called “big boned.” Boys were called “husky.” But we knew.

I cannot ever remember a time when I was not on some kind of diet. As an adult, I engaged in whatever was popular at the time and I lost weight…over and over again. Diets work if you stick to them and I did. Sadly, I could never seem to get past three months and if I reached goal, I’d quit sooner, not realizing a donut could not cross my lips ever again.

It seems ludicrous now that I kept depriving myself, just to get into a dress for a special occasion or because summer meant I had to appear in public in a bathing suit. My spouse, who could eat anything and stay thin, wasn’t helpful. His mantra was that I needed to be at a “healthy” weight. What the heck is that?

I can remember only a few times when I lost weight and wasn’t on a diet. All of them were during cruises—on our own boats—with me cooking. Boat motion keeps you moving all the time when underway. Boats have stairs and ladders and you have to stretch to get on and off a deck onto a dock. Boats have very few food storage areas so you plan ahead for three meals a day…no snacks. No room. No need for willpower.

If I hang out in Sonoma much longer—land of good wine, good food, good cooks—I might need a new wardrobe soon. As I squeeze into my jeans (they were once loose), I keep hoping the thinning fabric will hold a bit longer. I’d hate to have it give way in a public place like the candy aisle of a grocery store. (Ahem, it happened once.)

It might be time to go cruising again…fresh air, exercise, sensible eating, terror. Who could ask for more?