I was at a party recently, when a handsome young gentleman smiled broadly at me and remarked that it was “nice to see a woman eat and drink.” I must confess, I was holding a slice of pizza in one hand, a Vampire’s Delight (a wickedly delicious vodka concoction) in the other.
Looking around the room at the scantily clad women I can see why they weren’t eating. Their Halloween costumes left nothing to the imagination and could not hide the multitude of sins that my Sheriff’s costume could.
A long time ago I heard a quote often attributed to Catherine Deneuve that at certain age you have to “choose either your face or your derrière.” I dare not ask my husband which he thinks I chose. There is no win-win answer here.
Never one to be satisfied with a crouton and a glass of water, I’ve always liked to eat. Blame it on low blood-sugar, but I always seem to be grazing.
For the most part, I’ve made peace with my hips. The little bit of cushion I’ve accumulated the last few years, due to aging not indulging, has softened the sharp edges of my face and, strange as it may seem, at middle age I actually like my reflection better, wrinkles and all. Who’d a thought?!
While I wouldn’t mind losing a few pounds, since lately it seems I can simply look at food and gain weight, I have no aspirations of being a “social x-ray.” I know plenty of women who practically starve themselves to fit into teeny-weeny Barbie size jeans. That could never be me. I like cookies and pasta too much. And wine.
Eating is one of life’s greatest pleasures. And, as long as I still have the ability to chew my own food, I will enjoy every bite.
So ladies, what’s it gonna be: Your face or your fanny?