Killing It In My Sixties

Sometimes I marvel at how I have spent the majority of my life watching my weight. From a very young age I was lectured about being close to weighing too much. My childhood nickname given to me by my older siblings was ‘Chubbsly’ or ‘Fatty White Cheeks’. Neither name inspired any degree of self-confidence but instead, filled me with shame and disgust for my own body. One time after an annual physical exam at the doctor’s, my mother announced at the dinner table that I was officially fat and that the doctor warned her to put me on a diet. So much for family love and acceptance…

Back in the 1970’s I didn’t know much about dieting – except to just NOT eat. So that’s what I did. My parents were getting divorced as I turned twelve and so it was pretty easy to fly under the radar without anyone noticing that I avoided food. I wasn’t athletic so exercise wasn’t regular enough to balance a normal diet. My mom was always super conscious about staying thin; she would drink a diet drink and have a cup of yogurt to maintain her figure. I didn’t like yogurt and she absolutely did NOT share her diet drinks – so I just decided that not eating was the way to go.

By eighth and ninth grade I had managed to become what people actually called, “tiny” and I LOVED it! In freshman year, I joined the track team – no – I wasn’t any good but it required me to run and exercise daily and I became even thinner. I originally joined to meet boys – but combined with my weight loss – I was actually successful in gaining some much needed attention. Next year came cheerleading which provided year-round active exercise. I still didn’t eat much more than a snack size bag of chips all day so I delighted in staying ‘tiny’.

From that point on, my challenge was to stay that size. Not eating was always my go-to solution – until I got married. After my honeymoon was the first time I gained weight because my husband liked to eat and expected his wife to cook and eat as well. When I became pregnant – I naturally gained weight. My first obstetrician made a comment after my first weigh-in that he was “going to have to roll me into the delivery room” with a snicker. From that day on I counted calories like a mathematician- making sure I never exceeded 1000 calories per day. My full term son was born at 6 pounds. He came out starving.

But I wore my regular jeans home from the hospital – that was my goal because my mom had reminded me daily throughout my pregnancy that she did and came home with a 21 inch waist after each birth. I heard the message – “If I can do it – you can do it too”. I managed to always be able to lose the weight after my children were born but it got harder and harder the older I got. I remember being able to drop 3-5 pounds to fit into a cute outfit for a special occasion; all I had to do was stop eating and walk some extra miles.

But then —— ENTER menopause. Suddenly not only could I not lose any weight but it seemed to attach itself to me as if it was an alien life-form. Seemingly overnight – I had underarm cleavage, and my thighs rubbed together while my usually flat stomach would not hold in even under threat of diet pills! The walking I have always done to maintain a healthy weight would not make the scale budge. Not eating only proved to make we weak, dizzy and crabby. All my go-to losing weight methods had betrayed me with a hot flash and a pair of cankles!

I’ve tried weight loss meal plans, fitness and calorie counter apps on my phone, magic supplements to stop my ‘cortisol spikes’ and liquid protein and no carbs. But nothing budges my very comfy roll that always shows no matter how much Shapewear I throw at it. I consume almost zero sugar, only have alcohol once a week and steer clear of processed food – but the weight won’t budge.

All this to tell you that the temptation to try Ozempic, Wegovy, Tirzepatide, or some GLP-1 is almost overwhelming. Everywhere I look, there are advertisements on television, social media, magazines, billboards and the radio – all encouraging me to just give it a try. Then it seems that so many celebrities have magically transformed themselves into model-thin bodies. Even just every day people I run into are now looking their best – younger, leaner, more fit and dare I say – Happier! No one actually admits to taking a drug – and no one asks because it’s not politically correct to comment on someone’s weight. But I want to know!!! Really!

I really want to ask: Do you have life-altering diarrhea? Is your hair falling out in clumps? Are your bones crumbling? Do you look in the mirror and see the infamous “O-face”? Are you weak, tired, nauseous, or growing a donkey tail? Because if the answer is No – then I wanna take the drugs!!! I wanna be thin again! I want to confidently zip up my favorite pants, ditch the Shapewear on a 90 degree day, and stop looking like a frumpy senior citizen!!

You don’t have to tell me who you are – but if this is a choice I too could be making – please let me know!!!

I appreciate your sympathy during this difficult time.