People tell me I’m losing weight. I’m not; I’m losing layers.
I’ve been wrapped in so many under-layers, top-layers and in between layers this winter to combat the cold (and the rise in oil prices) that I’ve been compared to my mum and she was a size 20. Underneath my clothes I’m only a size twelve. I’m probably 24 by the time I get out the door for my walks.
So not only will spring see me thinner, it’ll see me lighter too. I’ve felt this winter like I’ve been living with weights. Now I can sense something light and floaty coming on!
It’s not entirely about the weather though, I admit. It’s also about the fact that my glamorous daughter is coming home, joining other glamorous daughter already at home, and I feel more inclined to make an effort. Prioritise looking nice like the girls do, rather than looking layered like I’m on an expedition or something.
Having gorgeous girls does nothing for your self esteem as you realise you’ve waved goodbye to having that kind of figure, that kind of peachy skin and that kind of energy. In comparison, I have the skin, figure and energy of a dried prune.
The thing is; when you’re of pre-prune age, do you really appreciate it? I know I didn’t, but then girls of today are much more image conscious and grieve their imperfections more than they appreciate their qualities. And in comparison to the skinny models, bursting bosoms and obsessions with eating in the media is it any wonder. They have immense pressure.
I try and instil in them not to be picky. Not over their food or their figures or the small things, but to look at a whole rounded image of health and well being. Being picky sure destroys well being mighty fast. We are much more than our bust sizes or our soft stomachs. Or even our wrappings.
I also joke with them that radiant and gorgeous they may be but they’ll never top my wisdom and experience! And we have a good laugh. But I carefully keep off the subject of prunes!