If you haven't done it, you probably will one day. Most of you have done it already. Some of you may be doing it secretly right now. Oh, you can tell yourself as I did that the dry cleaner was shrinking your clothes, or that they just don't make bras as roomy as they used to. Never mind the excuses. You need to diet.
I spent the greater part of my life never giving a tinker's damn about how much I ate. Steaks after the show? Yeah, bring 'em on with baked potato, chives and butter AND sour creme, followed by a big slice of chocolate cake and Irish coffees. Pasta and meatballs, or lasagna and canoles? You are talking my language, paisan.
When I got my contract at Universal, I weighed in at 104 pounds, soaking wet. Universal was very particular about the weight of their contract players. Stars and starlets had weekly weigh-ins because, yes, dammit, the camera DOES add ten pounds. Put on a few and it was into the gym to sweat it off. When I went into the hospital to give birth to my son, I weighed 129, and for many years that was the most I ever weighed.
But then a funny thing happened on the way to being 80. I bought a scale for the first time in my life, just for the hell of it, and when I stepped onto that little digital marvel, holy shit, it read 138. Damn, I thought, this thing must be defective. I called Thomas and told him to try it. His weight changes very little, so when his came up the same as usual, I knew I was in trouble.
I felt double crossed by my own body. I also felt a little bit stupid for not realizing a long time ago that I was on the Highway to Heavy.
So, here I am staring down a tiny cup of pineapple and blackberries perched on a spoonful of cottage cheese, dreaming of, well, getting back into my Chanels.
I am on a diet, but it is unfamiliar territory to me. I have a lot of miso soup (suggested by one of my Facebook friends. Thanks, Neva!), a salad with kidney beans and tomato, fish occasionally, and my morning fruit protein drink. I have drastically reduced all of my portions. I walk a couple of miles a day and I have begun doing yoga.
Suave has put on a little weight too over the years too, but he's not dieting.
I miss Mexican food. I miss Italian food. I miss malted milk balls. And I have a new appreciation of those who struggle with their weight. I'll be honest, I never really sympathized with people who were overweight. I had fallen prey to that mistaken notion that being overweight was somehow just a character flaw.
Boy was I wrong. Or maybe I just have a flawed character too. Whatever. I am baring my soul, if not my fat body, to all of you. My concern, of course, is looking too thin. When women of a certain age lose too much weight, they run the risk of becoming frail looking and drawn. That's something I will constantly monitor.
Here are the stats: my latest weight was 128. The picture was taken by Thomas two days ago at that weight. The loss of those 10 pounds since the fateful day I purchased my scale has at least heartened me to persevere and reach my goal of 120 pounds, even though jonesing for a scoop of ice cream or an In-and-Out burger animal style. That weight assures that my hips and breasts will fit into all my clothes without looking stuffed. And 120 gives me a little leeway, a little bounce room, so to speak, in case I want to binge--just once.
I'll keep you posted.