Maintain the Muffin-Top!

Today was supposed to be the first day of my diet.  I planned to hit the Weight Watchers points system—the only weight loss program with which I have ever found success—intent on dropping the ten big ones I’ve gained since PaPa moved in and took over the kitchen.  PaPa is a wonderful chef who believes taste trumps calories and to whom low-fat means frying in olive oil instead of butter.  My muffin-top is a testament to his spatula wielding ways.

Anyway, I gave up the diet plans in favor of a happy holiday.  Initiating a diet between Thanksgiving and Christmas would be nothing short of torture, and I am not a masochistic madam…so to speak.  All those goodies!  Far better to nibble in moderation than to not nibble at all because, let’s face it, we all know I’m not going to pass up praline pecans or Auntie Honey’s annual fudge.  Or Carrie’s turtles.  Or Linda’s nut rolls.

Or, heaven forbid, dark chocolate Peanut M&Ms in those bright holiday colors!

Instead of actually dieting, the big challenge will be to somehow not gain an additional five pounds between now and January 1^st.  I think that is an admirable goal, all things considered. 

Since the thought of counting points through the holidays was stressing me, I think I should be congratulated for inventing a means of relieving holiday food guilt.  I abolished dieting but retained an admirable goal: Maintain the Muffin-Top. 

Hmmm…somehow that sounded better before it was actually put in writing.

What I mean is, as long as I don’t gain any more fluff, I’ll consider the Christmas season to be a rollicking success.

Soon enough the New Year will loom large and I’ll be measuring my Raisin Bran portions and noshing raw carrots.  And that will totally work for January. 

But this is December, my friends—the season of cookies and candy and mulled wine; of holiday parties and New Year’s feasts. So I say eat, drink, be merry, and Maintain the Muffin-Top!

Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and good eats –

Lisa

Rolling Along

When did I start worrying about things age related? Was it the day I turned forty? Forty-five? Just like everything else that didn’t happen a minute ago, I can’t remember.

For the longest time I be-bopped along styling my hair however I wished, dressing in whatever fashion suited me. If I spied a cute top in the junior section at Penney’s I bought it. These days if I fall in love with a top in the junior section it is either on its way to the dressing room with one of my daughters or I’m on the wrong side of the store.

When did that happen? It snuck up on me with the same insidiousness as my muffin-top. It feels as though my 20-year-old self went to sleep one night and woke up decades later in the body of Rip Van Winkle.

My mom told me once that whenever she saw her image reflected anywhere her first thought was, “Who is that old broad?”

Not very eloquent, but right to the point.

So who is this old broad who is me? When did I become this old broad? And why does the idea of dressing “too young” or wearing my hair “too young” bother me? It goes beyond not wanting to look like an idiot. I think it has to do with my admiration for women who make the transition from Youth to Old Baggerdom gracefully. That’s what I want to do. I want to transition well into my old bagger days. I want to appreciate my wrinkles, even as I try to abolish them with expensive night creams.

So I haven’t answered my initial question, which was: When did I start worrying about this stuff? You know, I don’t think there was a start date, but here I am anyway. Maybe the secret is to quit asking and just roll with it.

I’ll give that a try, just not in the junior department.

Rolling along –

Lisa