Fruit Bodies

For most of my life, I was pear-shaped. Until just a few years ago, when the crime of menopause was visited upon my body, I had a nice waist and mostly proportional hips and bosom -- even if their sizes did change from time to time. I always heard that a pear-shape was healthier than an apple shape, so I was glad I naturally fell into that category. Well, it was mostly natural. I did work out a lot during most of my adult life. And, of course, during my pregnancies I was more of an apple, or if you want to get seasonal, with my youngest son (who was born in August) I was a watermelon; with my middle son (who was born two days before Halloween) I was a pumpkin; and with my oldest son (who was born mid-February) hmm . . . I'm having a hard time coming up with a round winter fruit. But you get the idea.

Now I've strayed away from the fruit food group entirely and have become a sausage, a plump little Italian sausage. I feel stuffed into my skin -- good for a sausage, less good for a woman -- and shapeless. I look at other women my age and wonder how those in good shape manage. I've tried everything from eating almost nothing to eating virtually only meat to eating no meat to eating no gluten. I've tested out low-impact exercises that a)I can do and b)that don't leave me unable to move the next day, but I just can't seem to get with the program.

I do realize that if this is the biggest burden I have to bear -- and I'm not saying it is or isn't, only that I happened to be thinking of it today -- I'm not so bad off. I also see women my age (or younger) who are twice my size, or in wheelchairs, or bald from chemo, or homeless, or in many other conditions I am grateful not to find myself in. I think it's human nature to be a little hard on ourselves and always think we could do/be better than we are. As long as that works to inspire, rather than deflate, that's not necessarily a bad thing.