I caught some well-deserved flak for my last posting, which gives me an opportunity to clarify my position, for which I am grateful.
While I am alarmed at the thought that soon everyone in America will wear size Q pantyhose and no one will require size A, I realize equally that not everyone can be nor should be an A. My twelve-year-old daughter is a size A, and I could not find pantyhose for her, and I don't remember that being the case back when I was a size A, in the pre-Cambrian period. I remember there being A's, B's, and Q's. We are all different sizes, naturally.
My inability to find size A pantyhose triggered my sensitivity to the supersizing of America and my worries about that. But just as much as I think not everyone should be a Q, I know everyone cannot be an A, either. I, myself, will never be an A again. And I am fine with that.
The reactions I got to my postings gave me two new revelations. One, as a quite short person, I have never needed to purchase pantyhose to fit my height, only my weight, and so, of course, I missed the boat on why many people wear Q and beyond. I forgot that pantyhose size is a matter of height as well as weight. So sorry. Two, that many of the potential candidates for size A are young girls, who nowadays shun pantyhose completely.
So, the market for size A seems to have shrunk not only by our expanding girth but by our expanding freedom. I go bare-legged for much of the summer, too, although I do think there are occasions both cold and formal that require stockings. I am either old-fashioned or classy. Take your pick.
It was also brought to my attention that I may be a little "obsessed" with my personal journey toward better fitness. This is true. As a short person on whom every pound shows, with a heavy side of the family in my genetics, a sizeable sweet tooth, and a healthy dose of vanity despite having borne my last children while squarely in middle age, I have found that, without a fair amount of attention to and thought about what I eat and don't eat, what I do and don't do, where my weaknesses and strengths lie, what my triggers and traps are, I don't make any progress.
Making a half-hearted or short-lived effort doesn't work for me anymore. My efforts to make progress toward permanent weight loss and better health have required a great deal of research, thought, and trial and error. I am not wealthy enough to pay someone to figure this out for me. So, as one of the things I care about, fitness is one of the themes of my blog. This is not a weight-loss column, though, so it is not the only thing I blog about. But it will come up. It seems wise and prudent to me for most of us to give it some thought. But, if it makes you uncomfortable to contemplate fitness, skip those.
Please bear in mind that I am certainly no one worth anyone's envy. I have a large waist for my height, and, while I have attained some moderate gains in the past couple of years, my metabolism is basically broken, and I have to pay a large price for even moderate gains. Also, I can lose them far too easily. Like, by living through a holiday. After all this time, I still struggle to obtain and maintain a balance between my efforts and my weaknesses in order to achieve the results I want. I wouldn't wish this struggle onto my worst enemy. My thoughts are only to encourage others pressing forward along the same path.
And, as my niece eloquently pointed out, I lost two sisters this year and almost lost her father, who came as close to death as anyone can come and talk about it afterward. Other family members were also in jeopardy for their lives due to health issues. Including me. She wisely observed that the time to worry about these matters is now, before we are diagnosed.
So, yes, it is on my mind. When something as small as catching a cold could endanger your life or at least your ability, you pay attention to anything and everything that can help you have better health.
According to the experts, exercise can reduce the risk of everything from dementia to diabetes, from cancer to feeling bloated. And obesity ups the risks of just about everything dire. Even if all you do is prevent yourself from putting on another 20 pounds in your lifetime, from what I read, it would be worth it.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
We're All Queens!
So, I went to the store to buy my daughter some new pantyhose. Turns out, all of her pantyhose and tights had developed holes at the same time. There must have been some kind of horrible epidemic in her top drawer. It's the only explanation I can find. Her explanation consisted of a shrug, so that's all I've got.
Actually, I went to more than one store. I went to several stores to try to replace my daughter's pantyhose and tights. See, she's twelve. And barely over 100 pounds.
And every time I went over to the pantyhose/tights rack/wall in each store and started looking for tights for her, one-third of them were size B, and at least two-thirds of them were size Q. All I was looking for was a nude size A. Is that too much to ask?!
Or a black. Or a white.
IF and WHEN (they were rare) I saw an A, it was always "Suntan," which is a horrible color to put on a skinny twelve-year-old girl. When I searched through the rows for a "Nude," it always said Q, or, less often, B. I looked at the back of the package. No, B would still definitely be too big for her.
Every store I went to was like this--a sea of Q's and hardly any A's.
So there I had it--the big question. What in the world is happening to us? Are we all so fat that they don't even bother to stock size A hose anymore? They think a token "Suntan" will appease us? And then I thought, "This is probably what it was like for people who needed Q's twenty years ago--some paltry token offering they could take or leave." But now so many of us are Q's that they hardly bother to get anything else?
We've turned into the movie Wall-E! We're all Q's! The human race has mutated into something else!
I admit I am bigger than I was twenty years ago. I am not, however, a Q. I work hard to not be a Q, thank you very much. But I am concerned about the trend.
I remember humans when most adults were thin. When middle-aged women could still be slim. We had only one fat teacher in our elementary school. And I remember that her girth was truly shocking to me. Wouldn't it be nice if we could go back to that again?
Do we really want to change as a species? Does this alarm anyone else? I think we should fight it. I think we should remember that human beings were designed to carry their water into their homes. Thank goodness we don't have to do that anymore. I like to use a lot more water than I could ever carry. But we need to replace that activity with something else that strengthens our core muscles. We need to burn some energy while preparing the food we eat.
Nowadays, it's possible to practically live our lives as if we are on conveyor belts--we can practically slide into our cars; ride in them to a drive-through, order a big bunch of fat, carbs, and salt; and shovel it in without burning a single calorie. Then we ride to our office, slide up to our desks at work, put in our time, and slide and ride back to our couches and beds.
How many of us take the stairs at work? Go for a walk during the day? Or might we as well be on hover seats one hundred percent of the time like the people in Wall-E? What's next? Drinking all our food so we don't even need to bother to chew?
Let's move it, people! Let's preserve our species as a beautiful, healthy one! Let's show our children what adults should live and look like! Let's not lose our bones, nor our need for them.
The list of health problems obesity causes or at least contributes to is heart-breaking. And it is so preventable.
There was an article in the paper this week by a doctor that I want to echo. He said that if you won't watch what you eat and exercise for yourself, do it for the people whose lives depend on you. Or if not for them, for the sake of the whole human race.
Another columnist this week wrote that she has gone back to shoveling snow rather than using her snow blower, just so she is expending some energy. Yes! I like her thinking! We need to make sure we are expending some energy. Let's stay alive and useful! Even I caught myself this week choosing not to be interested in my Christmas nuts because I would have to--gasp!--crack the shells. How lazy is that?
Come on--we can do this! Not that we can or should all be size A, for heaven's sake, but there should be a similar demand for it in America as there is for Q!
Actually, I went to more than one store. I went to several stores to try to replace my daughter's pantyhose and tights. See, she's twelve. And barely over 100 pounds.
And every time I went over to the pantyhose/tights rack/wall in each store and started looking for tights for her, one-third of them were size B, and at least two-thirds of them were size Q. All I was looking for was a nude size A. Is that too much to ask?!
Or a black. Or a white.
IF and WHEN (they were rare) I saw an A, it was always "Suntan," which is a horrible color to put on a skinny twelve-year-old girl. When I searched through the rows for a "Nude," it always said Q, or, less often, B. I looked at the back of the package. No, B would still definitely be too big for her.
Every store I went to was like this--a sea of Q's and hardly any A's.
So there I had it--the big question. What in the world is happening to us? Are we all so fat that they don't even bother to stock size A hose anymore? They think a token "Suntan" will appease us? And then I thought, "This is probably what it was like for people who needed Q's twenty years ago--some paltry token offering they could take or leave." But now so many of us are Q's that they hardly bother to get anything else?
We've turned into the movie Wall-E! We're all Q's! The human race has mutated into something else!
I admit I am bigger than I was twenty years ago. I am not, however, a Q. I work hard to not be a Q, thank you very much. But I am concerned about the trend.
I remember humans when most adults were thin. When middle-aged women could still be slim. We had only one fat teacher in our elementary school. And I remember that her girth was truly shocking to me. Wouldn't it be nice if we could go back to that again?
Do we really want to change as a species? Does this alarm anyone else? I think we should fight it. I think we should remember that human beings were designed to carry their water into their homes. Thank goodness we don't have to do that anymore. I like to use a lot more water than I could ever carry. But we need to replace that activity with something else that strengthens our core muscles. We need to burn some energy while preparing the food we eat.
Nowadays, it's possible to practically live our lives as if we are on conveyor belts--we can practically slide into our cars; ride in them to a drive-through, order a big bunch of fat, carbs, and salt; and shovel it in without burning a single calorie. Then we ride to our office, slide up to our desks at work, put in our time, and slide and ride back to our couches and beds.
How many of us take the stairs at work? Go for a walk during the day? Or might we as well be on hover seats one hundred percent of the time like the people in Wall-E? What's next? Drinking all our food so we don't even need to bother to chew?
Let's move it, people! Let's preserve our species as a beautiful, healthy one! Let's show our children what adults should live and look like! Let's not lose our bones, nor our need for them.
The list of health problems obesity causes or at least contributes to is heart-breaking. And it is so preventable.
There was an article in the paper this week by a doctor that I want to echo. He said that if you won't watch what you eat and exercise for yourself, do it for the people whose lives depend on you. Or if not for them, for the sake of the whole human race.
Another columnist this week wrote that she has gone back to shoveling snow rather than using her snow blower, just so she is expending some energy. Yes! I like her thinking! We need to make sure we are expending some energy. Let's stay alive and useful! Even I caught myself this week choosing not to be interested in my Christmas nuts because I would have to--gasp!--crack the shells. How lazy is that?
Come on--we can do this! Not that we can or should all be size A, for heaven's sake, but there should be a similar demand for it in America as there is for Q!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Obit Writers Say the Darn'dest Things!
Obituary writers may be just about the most creative and humorous writers around. Possibly, are more amusing than they think.
Not that I would EVER make fun of someone in grief--but just to improve writing generally, I provide this free service in behalf of the community at large.
Since I last wrote on this topic, several amusing things have been printed in local obituaries, along with many more examples of the most common mistake I see: the deceased having been born in litters. "He was one of ten children born to So-and-So and Such-and-Such on May 10, 1924." It's not a problem to say he was one of ten children. It's not a problem to say on which date he was born. The problem people keep repeating at an alarming rate is putting both in the same sentence so that it says all ten children were born on that date. Considering how famous the Dionne quintuplets are, I would think I would have heard of this person before now if that were the case.
If you must put both facts on one sentence, try this: "One of ten children, he was born on May 10, 1924." How's that?
Okay, English lesson over. More amusing are the examples that follow.
A seventy-nine-year-old woman was described as "the apple of her father's eye." I'm sure she was. I only hope she also reached other milestones in the eighty years since she achieved that one.
About the woman who dashed onto the freeway so quickly that her car got centered on the wall and slid down it several yards before dumping her off onto a street below, we read, "She had an inherent sense for what to do and how to do it with style."
A man's wife was described as "the fire of his loins" FIVE days in a row. Because once was not embarrassing enough.
A wealthy couple who killed each other/themselves on Christmas Day when that wealth was threatened "left everything better than they found it." Well, sure. Just ask the hotel where they shot each other.
If other news articles have already let the whole world know how someone died, you might save your beloved some face by toning down the fairy tales a bit. But if your goal is to write and print something truly memorable, the less thought given to it, the better.
Not that I would EVER make fun of someone in grief--but just to improve writing generally, I provide this free service in behalf of the community at large.
Since I last wrote on this topic, several amusing things have been printed in local obituaries, along with many more examples of the most common mistake I see: the deceased having been born in litters. "He was one of ten children born to So-and-So and Such-and-Such on May 10, 1924." It's not a problem to say he was one of ten children. It's not a problem to say on which date he was born. The problem people keep repeating at an alarming rate is putting both in the same sentence so that it says all ten children were born on that date. Considering how famous the Dionne quintuplets are, I would think I would have heard of this person before now if that were the case.
If you must put both facts on one sentence, try this: "One of ten children, he was born on May 10, 1924." How's that?
Okay, English lesson over. More amusing are the examples that follow.
A seventy-nine-year-old woman was described as "the apple of her father's eye." I'm sure she was. I only hope she also reached other milestones in the eighty years since she achieved that one.
About the woman who dashed onto the freeway so quickly that her car got centered on the wall and slid down it several yards before dumping her off onto a street below, we read, "She had an inherent sense for what to do and how to do it with style."
A man's wife was described as "the fire of his loins" FIVE days in a row. Because once was not embarrassing enough.
A wealthy couple who killed each other/themselves on Christmas Day when that wealth was threatened "left everything better than they found it." Well, sure. Just ask the hotel where they shot each other.
If other news articles have already let the whole world know how someone died, you might save your beloved some face by toning down the fairy tales a bit. But if your goal is to write and print something truly memorable, the less thought given to it, the better.
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