Not long after Hugh and I were married, I lost a nice sum of weight, probably around fifteen pounds or so. I had been steadily gaining weight during our courtship, engagement, and honeymoon and, once I settled into life as a married woman; I was dissatisfied with what I had allowed to happen to my body. So, I started eating right again, spent more time in the swimming pool and, in a stroke of genius heretofore unrivaled by modern man; I bought a stair climber.
I found the stair climber at a yard sale, paid around twenty bucks for it and hauled it home where, Hugh, in all his supportive glory, laughed about the fact that I would never use the thing and had just wasted twenty bucks.
In a show of determination to prove him wrong, I hopped on the stair climber and didn't get off for the next half hour and, although I could barely walk the next day; I got on it again and, again the next day. In fact, along with the change in my diet, I credit the weight loss to that stair climber and, when it eventually broke down after two years of almost daily use, even Hugh had to agree that it was the best twenty dollars I ever spent.
And that was a really long digression to get to the point of my story. Anyway...
...after I lost the weight, I was confronted by a woman at the swimming pool that I managed; she was quite put out with me for losing weight when I had been perfectly healthy to begin with and, she was right, to an extent. At fifteen pounds heavier, I was still at a healthy weight for my height. What she failed to understand or to take into consideration was the fact that I wasn't comfortable at that weight. I didn't like the fact that it took more effort for me to do the things that my life required me to do; little things like training the Lifeguards who were, at that very minute, protecting the lives of her preshus children in the swimming pool.
Sure, I wanted to look good in my clothes but, more importantly, I wanted the clothes I owned to fit me; twenty dollars on a used stair climber was a rather large expense back then but, a hell of a lot less than a new wardrobe would have been and losing the weight assured that I would still fit into my guard suit rather than having to fork over $60 for a new one.
In addition to losing the weight, I gained strength, flexibility, stamina and endurance, qualities that were necessary to my job, see above: protecting the children of nosy, rude and judgmental people (who may or may not have been significantly overweight, themselves and who may or may not have felt perfectly justified in judging my decisions about my lifestyle based on their own inability to control their own weight. I'm guessing). It wasn't all aesthetics, people.
Which brings us to the present; someone I know commented on my quest to lose weight yesterday. This particular someone thinks that I am being vain for trying to lose weight and that I should be comfortable where I'm at, given my age and the fact that I don't, and I quote: "Need to look good to attract a man or anything" (Hugh would like me to point out the fact that he is a man and, as a man, kind of likes being attracted to his wife. Not that he isn't already but, you know, he supports my efforts), end quote.
I am as addlepated by the rudeness of this person today as I was by that other women seventeen years ago, I mean; what is there to say to someone who criticizes your personal choices about your own body and health? Thanks for your (misplaced) concern now kindly fuck off? That seems kind of rude.
Instead, I say this: This is my body and its the only one I have. It is my duty to take care of it and to cherish it. I have made the decision to feed it well, to exercise it more and to monitor the results of those choices. I do hope to lose weight. I have no need to be model-thin but I do have a need to be comfortable with my weight, to be at the weight that works best for me. I need to be able to function at a certain physical level in order to be happy and I need to feel good about how I look. That's just me.
Don't judge me and I won't judge you. Life is too short to feel uncomfortable in one's own skin.
And that is what I could possibly hope to accomplish. That is all I could possibly hope to accomplish.
So, now you know.
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