My battle of the bulge began when I stopped growing upwards. By my teens, I developed a fear of obesity. Whenever I went for the third slice of cake, my mother would warn if I didn’t stop, I would look like my obese aunts. Dread of giant jowls motivated me to walk away from the cake. I was a single digit size until college. By the end of my first year, “the freshman ten” clung to my hips. No pants zipped or skirts buttoned.
This was probably the start of weight-loss plans from Atkins to Zone being my way of life. A counselor in one early support group advised me never to change size once my goal was reached. “Each larger size,” she warned, “permits you to gain another seven to ten pounds.”
Her advice was my guideline until Hubby and I became empty nesters and began eating out more than in. Will power in restaurants was a skill I never mastered so my single-digit-sized wardrobe eventually became history. It was 25 years since the fantastic advice, but her prediction proved true. Two-years later, instead of being 10 pounds from my youthful, hourglass figure, I was 20.
When it comes to dieting, yours truly has reached more goals than some hockey players — living testimony to the claim that most people who lose weight find it again. You tend to look for things you lose, so you want to give the fat to a rummage outlet. It took me about two months to shed half of the excess poundage I had put on since becoming an empty-nester. A low, double-digit size was to be my new norm if I wanted to continue to enjoy my husband’s and my “grownup” lifestyle with our social circle. Most of my peers had agreed our kitchens should remain closed for dinner until our kids returned, or it was holiday time.
Sweets rule my life. One cookie or a sliver of cake doesn’t satisfy me. If any cake is in the house, it beckons me until I’ve nibbled the last crumb. Freezing leftover goodies doesn’t work nor does having Hubby hide them. Frozen cake defrosts instantly in hot coffee, and my nose has a built-in GPS set for chocolate. Holidays that arrive during weight-shedding time are nightmares. After spending hours cooking my specialties, I want to eat them too — and not just a taste. Since my jeans fit like panty hose, I muster every ounce of self-control I can to stop me from overindulging.
After moving to an active senior community, the infamous “freshman-ten” became the “retirement-twenty.” A few years ago, while ordering a yogurt sundae at a local sweet shop, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and gasped. My long-deceased obese aunt’s jowls were plastered on my cheeks. Desperate, I headed to a local weight loss center the following week recommended by friends. They said that their plan worked — if you listened to the doctor. I did and it did. The best part of the plan was it involved no pills and no need to buy their products. Several months later, my jeans zipped easily.
My roller coaster lifestyle of dieting is not over. This lifestyle lets me have my cake and eat it too. The trek upwards during binge eating is most enjoyable. However, the fear of my aunt’s blown-up cheeks looking at me from my mirror each morning along with disdain of high blood pressure that accompanies my extra pounds, have slowed the roller coaster ride almost to a stop. With the help of yummy protein bars, hopefully I won’t be haunted again by “jowls of the past.”
Eda Suzanne is a retired Florida reading specialist who now enjoys writing and lecturing about the lighter-side of life. She can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. .