Sometimes I feel like I’ve spent most of my life obsessing over my size. Which is kind of ridiculous since I’ve always been rather medium about everything. Medium height, weight, hair color, popularity level, dance floor talent, parking mojo… I’m actually very average. So really – why all the worries about “looking fat?”
Well – I think it was because EVERYONE worries about looking fat. It’s just something women do. Except for the skinny ones I mean – who I guess worry about being skinny when they’re not busy eating double hot fudge sundaes in front of the rest of us. Bitches.
Seriously though, if I calculated the amount of time and money I put into working on my weight – gym memberships, exercise videos, personal trainers, Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, diet foods – and the constant discussions about losing weight, exercise plans and laments over things that I literally cannot change (I’m looking at you hereditary knee pudge!), it would have to be… Well, I’m not much good at math, so let’s just say it would be A LOT of time and money.
What would I have done with all of it? I’m guessing I could have single handedly adopted a Third World village. All of that fat talk may have stood between me and a Pulitzer prize! Or at the very least a wildly popular QVC line of conversation piece jewelry. Who knows? I certainly never will since I was too busy feeling fat to do anything else.
But I’m over that now. No more fat talk. If my pants feel tight, I’ll just make a few lifestyle changes or buy new pants. As long as I’m still my healthy medium size, it just doesn’t warrant the mind space. I’m finished with feeling fat.
Now I’m all about feeling OLD.
Because that is a far more worthy focus for my mania. Have you seen my crows’ feet? I sprout two or three new laugh lines every day! And I can even blame some of that on the fat obsession since you know, being tan makes you look thinner. Why didn’t I take SPF more seriously? Mom told me that too much sun would give me wrinkles…
But I never used to worry about wrinkles because by the time I got them I’d be OLD!
Well, now that I’m “old” I do care. And since I wasted my youth on feeling fat, I missed the boat on the whole Pulitzer Prize/QVC opportunity. So now I’m fully committed to wasting as much time as possible obsessing over looking old.
I’ve written before about my skincare routine. It seems to be going well…but I have of yet to find anything that I’d call the fountain of youth. I just do what the experts (multi-zillionaire celebrities endorsing the products) say and hope for the best. I mean, I have a lot of time to make up here. I’m already 38 and I didn’t even know about eye cream until a few years ago.
A new source of concern for me is the décolleté area. Did you know that Cindy Crawford says damage to décolleté skin can never be repaired by surgery? Do you have any idea how many times I’ve purposely sunburned that area in an attempt to get an early summer “base?”
I’m so screwed…
And to make matters worse, I have even more unexpected age-related issues to contend with. Apparently having three babies in 18 months in my early thirties wasn’t so great for my vascular system. As a result, I’m now showing early signs of varicose veins. Like those things that the grandmas at the pool have all over their thighs and calves? Someone grab the smelling salts – I’m about to pass out from the horror of it all. Now, those CAN be repaired with surgery. If you have thousands of extra dollars lying around that is. Kids – say goodbye to the college fund. Mama needs a new pair of legs.
I’ve never actually felt old before. I can easily find common interests with younger people. And even if they do throw retro parties featuring styles made popular the year I could legally get into bars, they don’t seem to find me boring. Though that may have something to do with my conversation choices…like that time I told a 17 year old lifeguard all about my c-section (21 years later and I STILL don’t know how to talk to teenage boys…)
Bottom line – up until now, I’ve been in serious denial about my age.
But if anything put the final nail in the proverbial coffin, it would be a recent conversation I had with my friend Lacey (a pseudonym for protection against any bodily harm she may inflict on me for putting this on my blog). She was complaining about upper arm flab which automatically made me feel privileged and smug since that is ONE part of my body that has never given me a moment’s worry. I may have inherited Italian peasant legs, but my long slim arms have been rocking sleeveless styles since I first layered neon tank tops in the ’80s.
What I didn’t initially understand was that Lacey wasn’t talking about fat – she was talking about the “loose skin” that develops on your arms as you get older. She said that when she holds out her arms and shakes them, the loose skin flaps back and forth. This description conjured up scenes of a Silver Sneaker exercise class I’ve observed at the YMCA. Then suddenly, those imaginary Golden Girls turned on me. The sassy old ladies in jazzercize outfits waving their arms to Party in the USA morphed into Hell’s minions mockingly shaking their loose skin at me in cackling glee…You thought you were better – firmer – but it all turns to arm flab in the end! You can run, but you can’t hide…
I was appalled. Aside from the fact that the term “loose skin” makes me feel like fainting again, it really never occurred to me that I should be monitoring this. And sure enough, when I gave my my extended arms a tentative shake, there were definite signs of flapping. I guess it’s all downhill from here.
The good news is that while I wasted approximately 30 years on fighting fat, I’ll probably only spend 20 on battling old age. I do learn from my mistakes you know. And I’m about five years in – so only 15 more to go. Then what? Ten years of obsessing over something else…then five… Then maybe I’ll finally give in to the inevitable and just embrace all of it and myself in the process?
I have no way of predicting this. Only time will tell. But there is one thing that I can say with complete certainty. Mother nature is a cruel bitch.
Oh my goodness! I can relate! I wasted a lot of time on the "fat" thing, and now I'm much more concerned about the mondo sun damage I've done to my skin. I have lots of wrinkles and crinkles. And the arms? Flapping. I got sad about it when I waved enthusiatically to a friend at Molly's last soccer game. The arms didn't stop when I did. Waah.
I got a few sentences into this post, read "Weight Watchers" and clicked over to find a meeting time. (I'm working towards my third "lifetime" over there.) SO I definitely relate to this, big time. If it's any consolation to you, just know that I will always be older, fatter and flap more than you do. Until I die. Cheers!
I turned 40 this year so I feel your pain in a big way. I already told Jeff that I am horribly vain and anticipate a face lift of some sort in my future…. or whatever they do to help make you look younger. I know that sounds horrible but I am NOT happy with the way I am aging. And if momma aint happy…
The truth is, though, we are so much harder on ourselves! I have a huge wrinkle between my eyes that will need fillers (botox is baby stuff for this sucker) which my best friend SWEARS on her children she doesn't see. So there's that… Sigh.
How depressing is this??! At least with pounds we can kill ourselves dieting, but age? We're totally screwed. Shit.
Very well said. It's true Kate, Old is the New Fat….and that is depressing. Now what can we do about it that won't break the bank?!?
Great title and SO true! I've had good results with the Obagi product line. It's a little pricey, but worth it. [It's not network marketing… I'm not trying to sell you anything, honest!]. Also, I'm getting ready to try FX Active laser on my neck and chest in a few weeks. I'll let you know if Cindy Crawford was right. Fingers crossed! PS: You're gorgeous!
Oh man. First of all, you're stunning and you have a terrific body, I have seen you in person! (And totally regret not hanging out with you more – please come to San Diego next year?)
Anyway! I struggle with my weight all the time. ALL THE TIME. The diets, the clothes, the gym memberships… argh.
Also, I am clearly going through a mid-life crisis at the age of 34. I know this because I want to be a teenager again. I want to have no responsibilities. And I am becoming obsessed with wondering how old other poeple thing I am. Do I look 28? Sigh. Old. Wah!
Oh, my thighs and I relate to this tale! It is a constant battle of mind over matter (and maybe mass?)(bad joke!) for me. It doesn't help that early Saturday morning, while I was still in my pajamas (it was ONLY 10 a.m., after all!), the doorbell rang, sending me into a panic. It was some strange man my husband had invited over and neglected to tell me. I had to dash into the laundry room/bathroom to hide while he was here. In that time, I was leaning into mirror, killing time, trying to give myself affirmations (and not plotting to kill my husband when I got out). I noticed a mark on my forehead, between my eyes. I thought it was smudge, but had no idea from what. I tried rubbing it off many times to no avail…and then I realized it's a giant crease!! A giant crease from when I (and this is shocking news to me) scowl! I am seriously flabbergasted how this has happened to me! :)
Love, love this post!
This entire last year I've noticed aging. Gray hair, new lines on my face, waking up feeling stiff. I didn't get why people freaked out about the aging thing until it started happening to me. I'm hoping I can age 'gracefully', but I don't know… I think I'm aging with panic attacks and hair dyeing.
I've been driven bat shit over the last 5 years b/c of this bullshit age crap. Mother nature is a true bitch, just ask my elephant knees
I'm 36 and just realized that I don't look 21 anymore — even though I FEEL younger than I have in years! I have wrinkles! Arm flap! ARGH! I loved this post so much – and the title rocks!
I'm obsessing about my weight, my age and my husband finding some young thing to sleep with.
I really don't think he will…but one can never be too careful.
I'm planning on earning some extra cash at the seaport by renting my upper arm bat wings as sails.
Want to talk about feeling old? I'm 30 and just got put on cholesterol medicine. You know the one with the senior citizens in the commercial? Yep that's me. Awesome.
Okay, you have thoroughly depressed me, only days away from my birthday. Thank you for that. I think I'll go have a glass of wine now. And maybe shoot myself.
And to all the younger commenter complaining about looking old, please just STOP.
Ugh! I hear ya, honey. Or at least I will as soon as I turn up my hearing aid! Eh?
I so totally know how you feel … in fact, living where I am this year, I'm reminded every single day that I'm the only one who isn't cosmetically enhanced or airbrushed.
If you want to totally waste more money on facial creams, the ladies here are ALL into the Obagi system. If you can spare the $350 for the 6 mo supply you're in!
And by the way, I totally noticed your awesome arms at BlogHer – you totally rock the sleeveless shirt!
Great post! The title alone rocks.
We need to get together.