A dear, kind fellow writer with whom I’ve become acquainted on Facebook recently shared this story about a fashionable sixty-four year old woman who deems herself an accidental icon with a blog by that name. Watching video about her, a striking figure with a model thin body, all I could think was how nice her clothes hung, resenting it the entire time. ~shakes head~ It didn’t help when my friend kindly pointed out how the featured outfits would fit any body type.
Fit? Maybe. But in the furry coat this lady sported I would appear as a squat, pregnant bear while the boxy coats would look like balloons. And that’s when something occurred to me besides the fact I’ll never afford that lass’s taste in designer clothes.
Not only is my propensity to be overweight genetic, so is my attitude, distinctly from my mother’s side of the family. I never met my great grandmother, but my maternal grandmother was very dear to me. At a young age I mentioned to my mother how nice Grandma looked, always wearing dresses.
Mom informed me that Grandma only scorned slacks because she was ashamed of being bowlegged. Meanwhile Mom spent my entire childhood on one weight loss scheme or other. Even at the end of her life she lamented gaining some extra pounds.
And, God rest her soul, my mother was not concerned with physical fitness. Her idea of being active consisted of walking across the house when she still could. I think she almost enjoyed the pampering once wheelchair bound.
That brings me to a blessing, because seeing her physical deterioration caused me to start lifting weights and swimming on a regular basis. Still, I could almost cry every time I look in a mirror, missing my former figure. ~sigh~ At least my body and spirit are strong and relatively pain free (!).
Sorry The Image is Blurry
Guess My Camera Focused on the Frame - Oops
Are you a fashion hound?
Like my boots? I bought them to wear to writing events, forcing a more intrepid persona.
|And I Do Stay Young at Heart!|