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A word to you naturally skinny chickadees out
there- BACK OFF! I was at the Wal-Mart the other day, buying a glamorous
selection of men's underwear and t-shirts for the four men in my life
(my sons and husband) when a pack of boxers fell into this impossibly
small spot. "Just a moment," my fifty-something, super-svelte
salesclerk said, slipping through the crack that was less than the width
of, say, an Oreo. She squeezed into this tiny space, picked up the
boxers, and, sighing, returned to her register. "That's one great
thing about being skinny," she said, and continued to ring up the
purchases. "Yeah, the ONE good thing." I
sarcastically mouthed. "Because the rest of being skinny is just
for the birds." "Oh, you wouldn't say that if you were
me." She scolded. "Because I cannot gain weight. I have tried,
believe me. I have eaten milkshakes, steaks, french fries every day of
my life and can't put on an ounce. My husband wishes I was about 20
pounds heavier, but I just can't, for the life of me, gain weight." I wanted to scream, "Shut up." But I
can't, because I could not stop thinking about eating all those
delicious things she just mentioned. My stomach growled its angry protest. "If I
even thought about eating all of that," I bitterly replied, "I
would be about eight hundred pounds." Okay. So I exaggerate a
little. But not by a lot. Lucky me; my genetic fate allows me to pack on
the pounds like an arctic animal preparing for the long, cold winter. I
can literally eat something of caloric import one day and see the
results on the scale the next morning- struggling then for three or four
days to lose that same pound or two which had slid back onto my hips
with such ease. My
pencil thin sales clerk lamented: "You know, I just get so tired of
being skinny. I'd like to have some curves." Her eyes slid
meaningfully at the direction of my hips, and then noting my glare; back
to my face. "I just think that no one understands how hard it is to
be skinny no matter what." I'm sorry. My simple little head could not
process this information. Literally every magazine that I subscribe to
has such tips as "How to Lose Ten Pounds in Ten Days" or
"Eat Yourself Slim" or "Exercise Your Way To A Beautiful
Body." So I must be in the majority of women who find this daily
struggle with the scale to be an endless, exhausting battle. I
cannot---- I simply am incapable of letting this twiggy waif-like woman
think she has the short end of the metabolic stick. "Let me get this straight." I said to
her. "Are you telling me that you can eat WHATEVER you want,
HOWEVER OFTEN you want; and as MUCH as you want?" "Oh, I eat like a big ole horse." She
admitted, smiling. "And you never, ever, have deny yourself of
something you want, and you never go even the least bit hungry?" "I told you," She said, as if she were
explaining it to a child. "I am trying to gain some weight."
She gave me this look like, "It ain't easy being me." I was unmoved. "Listen, sister." I
replied. "I would change places with you in an INSTANT if I could.
If I even LOOK at chips and dip; I gain weight. Just THINKING about
milkshakes makes my thighs grow larger, and if I drink anything more
sugared than unsweetened tea or water, I begin to bloat. I am hungry
MOST of the time, and even when I am not, I have probably just finished
eating something I'd rather leave to the rabbits. My hips will NEVER be
slim, no matter how many miles I run, or how many weights I lift, and if
I even THINK of taking the day off from exercising, I can kiss my
"skinny" clothes good-bye for a week, because I won't be able
to get into them. I gained like EIGHTY pounds with each pregnancy and
probably lost like five after the babies were born. A few weeks without
watching every move, every bite, and my arms will be bigger than your
thighs." I glanced at her thighs and corrected myself, "A lot
bigger. So don't tell ME about how hard it is to be YOU." She had to laugh at my tirade. She didn't know
me from anyone; a crazy shopper with a cart full of men's underwear and
an agenda to shoot to kill anyone who complained about being naturally
skinny. "Okay," she admitted. "You have
it worse. But still," she continued, ignoring my warning look,
"I would really like to gain another twenty pounds or so." She
sighed. "If only I could." I started to retort but bit my tongue. Some
people just don't get it. But the VERY next person who complained about
being too thin was really going to hear about it.
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