What's that sucking sound???

Recently while out and about one night, someone mentioned that she had liposuction on her waist and hips. I was surprised since she was already an very attractive woman with a knockout figure. Now I am certainly not one of those people who shuns cosmetic surgery, unless of course it is to the extreme and you start to resemble something out of Madam Trussard’s Wax Museum, or your skin is so tight, your eyebrows are hidden in your hairline. Indeed, I have been contemplating a little Restalyn or perhaps some Juvaderm for my upper lip which is starting to resemble that of a woman who has been smoking for 30 years (no idea why, I’ve never smoked in my life.) I’ve had breast reduction surgery and to this day, I can say without hesitation it was the best decision I ever made – not because I was worried about my back failing under the weight of my 38DD’s. I had it done purely for vanity's sake. Let’s face it, there is absolutely nothing attractive about breasts that enter a room before you do on a 5’3” frame. At least men will now look me in the eye. Alas though, poor Bill. I married a “boob” man, and now he’s got a wife with teeny tiny, albeit perky, boobs. He keeps threatening to buy them back for me. I keep telling him he needs to become a leg/ass man.

But liposuction? Liposuction is the one procedure that conjures up some really horrible images. I’ve talked to people who have had this procedure and apparently what happens over time is that the fat you had sucked off one part of your body will appear in another area entirely. This is not an urban legend, I swear. I have anecdotal evidence. So let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you have liposuction on your stomach. Does that mean you’ll eventually grow a butt as big as Kim Kardashian or Jennifer Lopez? Not like that’s a bad thing, mind you. I’d kill for J Lo’s rear end. But what if the fat comes back, let’s say, around your neck and you look like you have goiter for the rest of your life? I like scarves and all, but that would be a tough one to cover up. Or what if you have liposuction on your thighs and the fat comes back on your arms and your look like you have curtain valances instead of well-toned triceps? Worse yet, it comes back around your ankles and you then have the dreaded cankles for all eternity? Think about it, there are worse places to have a little “cushion” than around your fanny or your tummy. This fear of lipo has helped me to develop a happy and satisfied relationship with my “pooch.” And it has helped me develop an appreciation for a strategically-worn pair of Spanx under certain outfits.

It sucks to grow old for a lot of reasons, not all related to physical attractiveness… memory loss, eyesight issues, the inability to sneeze or laugh without wetting your pants are on the top of my list of complaints. Wrinkles? They definitely suck, and I work hard to ward them off by whatever method necessary. But you know what? Eventually they will come and you realize IT WILL BE OK. I don’t want to look like I’m 20 again. Hell, I still had acne at 20, so really, there is nothing even remotely enticing about that prospect. I’ll settle for looking ten years younger than my age and that is just fine with me. I’ll be forty-seven in February. Recently, a gentleman guessed my age to be in my late thirties. I was so elated I nearly kissed him right there on the spot. Really, what more could I ask for at this point in my life? And when I’m 60 and someone tells me I look 50? Hell, I’ll be REALLY happy about that. While 50 may seem a bit old now (it’s definitely closer than I wished), someday I will look back with great fondness and remember how young 50 really was.

The goal for this girl is to grow old gracefully, with dignity, and with a twinkle in my eye, and probably a cocktail in my hand. I’ll take a bit of help here and there and I will still work to “maintain the buffet”, but in the end, I want to appreciated not only for who I was years ago, but for who I am right here, right now. And that folks is the lesson in growing old. Time can either drag you along with it, kicking and screaming, or you can dance along side it, and enjoy every moment. I choose to dance.

Quick! Hide the Nutella in my mouth!

Well, it’s Friday. Usually on Fridays my thoughts turn to happy hour and cocktails, but all I can really think about today is Nutella…Nutella and peanut butter on pretzels, Nutella on English muffins, Nutella on a spoon inside my mouth. Nutella, that blissfully silky substance made of hazelnuts and chocolate. It melts on your tongue and just makes you happy. Wow, my ass is going need its own zip code if I don’t step away from the damn jar of Nutella.

Who invents this stuff? I mean really, is there a group of people sitting in a room somewhere just thinking about the next great food product with little to no nutritional value, that will add numerous inches to your waistline, and cost you a small fortune at the grocery store? On the nutritional scale, ten being the most nutritionally healthy, Nutella is about a -20. It is made with palm oil…PALM OIL??? Isn’t that a heart attack in liquid form? Wait, let me ponder that for a moment while I put this Nutella and peanut butter-slathered pretzel in my mouth.

I seem to be going through some sort of phase the past couple of weeks. (Of course the fact that this week my boss brought back a one pound bar of the most delicious Swiss chocolate from Geneva has not helped my cause. By the way, it’s half gone.) For the longest time-and I’m talking years- I have measured, weighed and calculated every morsel of food that I have consumed. I’ve counted calories, carbs, protein, fat grams and fiber content. I’ve said NO more than YES to the foods I love. I’ve given up most everything that is white – rice, pasta, sugar, flour and whipped cream. Yes, I lost a ton of weight, and yes, I’m much happier thin than heavy. But you want to know something? I’m freaking STARVING!

I’ve joined a gym and have been going at least four days a week in order to hopefully maintain my current weight while eating more. I am up to at least 15 miles a week on an elliptical along with lifting weights, but the truth is, I would have to burn at least 100,000 calories at the gym in order to counteract the amount of crap I have put in my body the past week. And still there is this little voice in the back of my mind whispering “BUY THE GRANDMA UTZ’S LARD FRIED POTATO CHIPS!!!!!” I’m not sure who that whispering little bitch is, but I’d like to beat the crap out of her, then cover her mouth with duct tape. Of course, the most effective method I have found for shutting her up is feeding her chocolate, and Nutella.

I’m hoping this is just a phase. Maybe it is hormones. Most likely it stems from over two years of deprivation. I think the thing that I need to keep in mind for myself is balance. Balance makes things bearable. Balance keeps us sane. It’s ok to have the cheesecake once in a while. Hell, if I died tomorrow, you know damn well I’d be wishing I had ordered it. It’s good to be healthy, but it’s good to take joy in the simple pleasures once in a while as well. And there is no more basic human joy than the joy of food.

Someday I will retire, and someday, I will cast away vanity and “let myself go.” It probably won’t happen anytime soon, since the whole aging thing makes me break out in a rash, but eventually I will give in. Until that happens, I will limit my Nutella purchases to once or twice a year, and stay out of the potato chip aisle. Chocolate? Nah, I’m never giving that up. 