Interesting, isn’t it, the way Goddesses are often portrayed as rather large and voluptuous…..mother earth, fertility and all that? What a concept, eh? When was it that the ideal shifted to flat-chested and super-skinny? Did women always feel insecure about their bodies, or did that start when fashion designers decreed that the quintessential female form was actually the adolescent male form in drag? Don’t get me wrong - I’m no different from anybody else. I’m not happy with my generous boobs (and to think in L.A., they all get themselves fake ones, Anngirl!) and never have been, even when they were a hell of a lot perkier than they are now. I don’t like the padding on my hips or the damned “muffin tops” that try to pop out over my waistbands if they’re the slightest bit snug (which they never are because I can’t STAND muffin tops). WHY don’t I like it? WHY don’t I just relax and ENJOY my voluptuousness? Well, the FIRST reason is that it’s all starting to sag now, so instead of voluptuous, it’s more like jello that’s been sitting out for about a half hour…you know what I mean…no longer firm and bouncy, just melty and sluggish. But the SECOND reason is that I have been programmed to be unhappy with myself by years of looking at magazines with pictures of models who have been airbrushed and cut & pasted to unattainable (even for them) perfection. And now that we (they) have Photoshop to work with, well the pursuit of perfection is even more ruthless. Is it any wonder that so many teen-aged girls (and young women) have eating disorders or that WE - being more mature; and I’m even more mature than most of you - feel so unhappy with our bodies and work so hard to change them? Here I am, at an age when my mother and grandmothers were content to cover their large and comfortable laps with aprons and settle into their “golden years’ with a sigh of relief - and I’m off to work every day carrying my briefcase, tripping along in my cute little sandals and mentally adding up my Weight Watcher points as I go. Is this better? Is it better that 50 is the new 30? (According to Oprah). I suppose it’s better that I’m out riding my bike, moving my body, trying to stay healthy rather than spending my days in the kitchen making pies and cakes and stews and what-have-you and EATING a goodly portion of it all myself AND growing exponentially wider and softer. I don’t think that’s an arguable point.

But the truth of the matter is that as much as I may want to be healthy, I have to admit (to myself as well as to you) that my wanting to lose weight and get in shape isn’t nearly so much about health as it is about appearance. I want to look slim and slinky….LOL…even at MY advanced age! Apparently this is not something that decreases over time. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, girls, but this is a lifetime struggle. At least until we all get together and bring back the * real* goddess look.

Well, this contemporary old goddess had 23 points to consume today, and once I have my WW ice cream bar in another couple of minutes, that’ll about do it. Tomorrow, according to this Wendie Plan, I’m supposed to have a whopping 37 points! Now THAT should be interesting. Maybe I’ll get me a hot fudge sundae. Not. How pitiful is it to have all these points at my disposal and no desire to use them? I swear, I have never been the type to say that I’m not hungry, don’t care for this or that - and yet these days I really am NOT hungry much, and that being the case, all I can tell you is that I had BETTER lose a few pounds by the end of THIS week, and that’s the TRUTH! If I don’t, I’m going to be SO peeved! (LOL….I like the word “miffed” too. Doesn’t it just sound so ridiculous?)

Okay, considering that I’ve now reached the point of not making any kind of sense at all, methinks I shall retire for the evening.

Tah!

 E!