I was going through some photos last night (o.k., I admit it, I was scrapbooking photos last night….) and I came across a shot taken of me about five years ago. I was wearing a pair of jeans They were stylish in their day, with their nice loose, straight-leg fit. I remember they were even a little large and I had debated whether to buy a size smaller.
I still have those jeans in the back of my closet. They have become my work pants. I pull them out when I’m working in the yard or painting or doing heavy spring cleaning. But the problem is, they aren’t so loose anymore. In fact, they would be considered “fitted,” except they weren’t designed with any stretch and don’t I know it. Sometimes they are so “fitted” that I can’t comfortably zip them up. I’m close to retiring them altogether so I stop bursting into tears every time I have to work in the yard.
It’s not an atypical scenario. Women gain weight in their 30s. If they aren’t vigilant, it can be 10-15 or more pounds over time of natural body-slowing-down weight. I’ve heard of it. I knew it was a possibility. But I exercise, I eat well, I’m active. I certainly didn’t anticipate 10-15 pounds in my future.
Much less 20 pounds. I am actually 20 pounds more than I was in college. Granted, in college you walk miles every day with 50 pounds of books on your back, and you barely get a snack, let alone a meal, most of the time. But is office work really such an enemy to a slender figure? Is there really no way to stay at an active college weight?
Let me tell you what my real beef is: I’m not as mad about the extra 20 pounds as I am about not realizing how thin I really was in college. If anyone looked at me today, not knowing me before, they would call me a tall, slender person. I have never—today or yesteryear—been called fat or heavy or plump or chubby. And I still do not fall into that category. I have a healthy BMI, I am in the target weight range for my height, and I have solid cardiovascular health. And while I would like to drop 10 of those gained 20 pounds, I would still be considered slender if I didn’t.
And that’s what burns me up. If I’m slender at a healthy ??? pounds, I was down right thin at ??? pounds. And I didn’t even know it!!! Oh sure, I didn’t think I was fat. But I always thought I was an average weight and build. I always thought I could lose five pounds for an even better figure. I always looked at skinny girls and acknowledged with what I thought was a healthy attitude, “I will just never look like her. I have hips and the Jackson family thighs.” Well if I had hips then, what are they today?!
I wish I would have recognized the thin, attractive frame I had then and been happy with it. No, I wish I would have reveled in it. I wish I would have never thought for one minute that just an extra five pounds would really make me beautiful. I wish I would have never considered myself a bigger girl (which I have always been taller and wider than many of my associates). I wish I would have loved my body and not thought a minute about it—except to keep it healthy and strong. I wish I would have known what I had and loved it.
Looking back through my scrapbooks doesn’t make me wish I was that size again. It makes me wish I’d known I was that size when I was that size and been delighted with the Jackson family genes. And while I will still do my best to stay slender and, more importantly, healthy, I will do even better at loving the frame I have and not wasting time on wishing it were different.
