Acceptable Gains…
I was waiting for my son outside his upper East Side private school among all the other moms and nannies waiting for their boys. One of the moms, a lovely, slim, rather quiet person was standing nearby and I made some comment about her sporty attire. “Were you just working out?” “Yes,” she said. “That’s nice,” I commented, “I don’t get a lot of time,” I lied.
It just sounds much better to say I’m busy than to say I’m disinclined. “Oh,” she said, “I just do it so I can indulge myself.” I nodded in understanding.
Until she said, “You know, like Chinese food.”
CHINESE FOOD! Is an indulgence? No wonder I’m huge. I could’ve sworn it was a staple. It’s brown rice and broccoli! Here I am cutting out desserts and snacks and trying to shrink my portions and wondering just when the pounds are going to drop away like a house in a California mudslide, and come to find out I’m supposed to be cutting out whole cuisines. Entire countries.
And I thought, “Should I do that? Could I become the sort of person who thinks a little brown sauce is a big naughty? Do I even want to be that person?” Honestly, a lot of these thin women seem a little…underanimated. As if they are so exhausted after their trainer leaves and they have their morning…what? Water? That all they can do is look at you through half-lidded eyes and sort of…nod. The wan Upper Eastside demeanor is so common that it has to be an effect of their eating habits. Unless I’m among the living dead and nobody told me.
I don’t know. My biggest secret for looking thin is to stand next to my husband. Compared to him I look…slim. And when I want a bowl of ice cream covered in his fabulous homemade fudge sauce that we’ve nicknamed “Happy Marriage Sauce,” I don’t ever, ever glance over to see if he’s judging me for digging in. Because he’s not. If I don’t fit into the latest fashions, well, I can’t really afford them anyway. So let’s call it…acceptable losses. A sacrifice of perfection in the eyes of the world that I can live with.
It really came together for me the morning I invited the school mom who is a world-famous singer to join a couple of us for a cappuccino. “I can’t,” she said, “I’m in training for a video.” I couldn’t help it. I looked at her and said, “Ha, ha, I’m not famous, I can eat cake.”
It just sounds much better to say I’m busy than to say I’m disinclined. “Oh,” she said, “I just do it so I can indulge myself.” I nodded in understanding.
Until she said, “You know, like Chinese food.”
CHINESE FOOD! Is an indulgence? No wonder I’m huge. I could’ve sworn it was a staple. It’s brown rice and broccoli! Here I am cutting out desserts and snacks and trying to shrink my portions and wondering just when the pounds are going to drop away like a house in a California mudslide, and come to find out I’m supposed to be cutting out whole cuisines. Entire countries.
And I thought, “Should I do that? Could I become the sort of person who thinks a little brown sauce is a big naughty? Do I even want to be that person?” Honestly, a lot of these thin women seem a little…underanimated. As if they are so exhausted after their trainer leaves and they have their morning…what? Water? That all they can do is look at you through half-lidded eyes and sort of…nod. The wan Upper Eastside demeanor is so common that it has to be an effect of their eating habits. Unless I’m among the living dead and nobody told me.
I don’t know. My biggest secret for looking thin is to stand next to my husband. Compared to him I look…slim. And when I want a bowl of ice cream covered in his fabulous homemade fudge sauce that we’ve nicknamed “Happy Marriage Sauce,” I don’t ever, ever glance over to see if he’s judging me for digging in. Because he’s not. If I don’t fit into the latest fashions, well, I can’t really afford them anyway. So let’s call it…acceptable losses. A sacrifice of perfection in the eyes of the world that I can live with.
It really came together for me the morning I invited the school mom who is a world-famous singer to join a couple of us for a cappuccino. “I can’t,” she said, “I’m in training for a video.” I couldn’t help it. I looked at her and said, “Ha, ha, I’m not famous, I can eat cake.”
posted by Whoopla at
10:49 AM
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