Last week, I shared the not-so-secret fact that I have added twenty pounds to my frame in the past two years. Thank you for rejoining me for this very important announcement. You could be worrying about world peace, global warming, the floundering economy, the healthcare system, pollution, the state of education, or moral decay in general, but you have chosen instead to drop your worries and your seventy-five cents to follow up how I had to move up a pant size.
Trying on one pair of pants after another, I had time to reflect on more than just my looming figure in the dressing room. I recalled envying people with dimples. Now, I too, had dimples of my very own. These, unfortunately, were around my knees, and those are significantly less charming.
My worries, as usual, are selfish. I like the relative maturity and stability of being a 42-year-old woman, but I would prefer that Mirror Mirror show me my 22-year-old, pre-children self. Perhaps you will be kind and say, “Vineeta, you don't' look so bad.” But then you will hasten to add, “for having had six kids, you don't look too bad at all.” That's like telling the hospitalized man wrapped entirely in bandages, “You look great, considering you were just run over by an 18-wheeler.” I do appreciate the intent of the compliment, (and I will take any compliments gladly!) but then I recall that the last time I bore a child was over four years ago. That's enough time to get a college education. Is it too much to hope to lose a few pounds?
After my Vision of the Dimpled Knees, I had a conversion experience: something had to change. This must be why I was in the changing room. Fortunately for me, our church was offering a free exercise class then.
Free is a word that is tossed around quite, um....freely these days. We have sugar-free, fat-free, lactose-free, pesticide-free, free speech, free elections, and, my favorite, free-free. Free-free is something that truly costs you nothing. This kind of free is on the Endangered Freebies List, except for people who are unable to read fine print. These people keep getting snaggled in all sorts of “free” deals. Free-free is my favorite kind of free. Oh, did I mention that already? I’m sorry; I should have warned you. This column is not repetition-free. My usual audience, consisting of six children, requires that everything be repeated. Everything. Repeated.
Many people are preaching the good news of getting fit to improve cardiovascular health, energy levels, endurance, and quality of life. These are the people who tend to look good in exercise apparel. We all want to be healthier, of course, and if our figures look better, who will object? My motivation is reversed, however. Give me the better figure first, and then, if I can liver longer and stronger to continue my chore-list of domestic duties, so be it.
I wish I had my priorities right. I want the heart and compassion of Mother Teresa, but then, I draw back. Could I adopt her simplicity: the plain and paltry wardrobe that cloaked her tiny stooped figure; the face that, lined by the deepest of wrinkles, radiated love and humility? Yes, I want her heart, but then I pass on the platter for looks. I look longingly at the dishes serving the latest pop divas, the original Pop Tarts. I wonder why I can't have both at the same time, but perhaps they lie on divergent paths. These platters may not even be served in the same banquet hall.
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