I feel bad about my neck

Yes, I know that’s the title of Nora Ephron’s book from a few years ago. At the time I read it and laughed, because I do think  Ephron is a brilliant writer. And my neck was fine . . .

Now I, too, feel bad about my neck. I thought being overweight would limit the effects of age. Or, in effect, the unattractive pudgy neck would counteract the onset of a stringly or wrinkly neck.

Wrong. I am here to testify that it is possible to have a fat neck and a weird, stringy neck simultaneously. If Nora thought she felt bad about her scrawny neck, I think, well at least she can wear snug turtlenecks and hide the evidence. If I wear a turtleneck, it looks like I’m wearing a muffler under my top-most chin.

I could say I also feel bad about my butt and my thighs, but I’ve felt bad about those puppies since seventh grade. I do feel bad about my stomach, though, because I have one now. I was one of those pear-shaped girls with thunder thighs and bootie, but a slim torso. No more. Now I know what they’re talking about on TV when they promise to attack “stubborn belly fat” first with whatever miracle diet cure they’re promoting. (ALL bullshit AND dangerous, by the way)

I feel bad about my breasts and my upper arms. I feel bad about the hairs on my chin and the wild white ones that have suddenly appeared in my eyebrows. I even feel bad, when I stop to look at them in dismay, about my chunky forearms. Ick.

So I gave up white sugar and white flour this week. I go to the Y at least four days a week and aim for five. I’ve been coloring my hair practically since birth, so the hair (though somewhat thinner) is okay. In the battle against time and fat cells, I’m doing my best to at least hold my own. I actually feel healthier now than I have in years.

My goal is to be healthier and stronger and able to wander the hill towns of Italy or anywhere else I might roam in Europe without gasping like I’m in the last stages of emphysema. I can tell a big difference since last year and look forward to feeling even better for the next trip. It will be nice to wear smaller clothes, too, of course.

So there are all those physical things I feel bad about, or at least bad enough about to try to address it in a semi-amusing fashion in this blog. And my memory sucks, too, by the way. But I actually feel good about being ME, strangely enough. I’m older, fatter, forgetful at times, and I need my sleep – but I’m happier. Really, pretty damned happy.

If I really feel bad about anything, it’s about feeling bad about my thighs and derriere and lack of charm and all the other negative things I believed about myself for so many years. What a waste of time. And of course, it’s a waste of time now to worry about wasting THAT time, so. Well, hell.

How about this? I feel good about starting this blog, even though I struggle with what to write most of the time. It’s just good to write. But enough for today.

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