The party’s over. I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life being one of those people who grills chicken breasts and eats salads for my main course. Oh, and white wine spritzers. I’m sure a lot of it is the liquor.
I think I’ve been kidding myself that the type of calories made a difference. This is classy, expensive fat I’m wearing. Sushi fat, foie gras fat, gourmet home cooking fat, fancy cocktails with muddled homegrown herbs fat. And lots of vegetables! Unfortunately, vegetables don’t have negative calories.
I had figured after I had the last baby, the weight was just going to drop off. Or, I’d find all kinds of time to work out on maternity leave. But, no, I’m going to have to waddle back into a courtroom full of Size 2s next week and face the music in whatever suits still fit me.
The times in my life I’ve been thin, I didn’t work all that hard at it. My lifestyle just kind of made it happen. More natural activity; fewer opportunities to eat. I was figuring that eventually, things would shift my way again. I don’t think it’s going to happen. I’m just going to have to be less fun. A low-fat life. Maybe even non-fat.
Isn’t a big part of the good part of being married coming home to a nice meal, with your wife shaking up cocktails? I bet no one fantasizes about coming home to a salad. Well, maybe Phi does. Maybe he’ll give me his Mediterranean Chicken Salad recipe.
If only I were married to this guy. My husband is an ectomorph who jumps rope in the living room at 6 a.m.
The thing about nowadays: Anywhere I go, I’m in good company. I don’t know if there’s anywhere with all skinny people anymore. Maybe Manhattan? But certainly not Los Angeles. Even trendy Los Angeles, even rich Los Angeles. Hollywood, Rodeo Drive*, even the opera. Lots of women of all ages rocking the Meghan McCain look, or more.
*I was there buying cheese.