Pound Foolish
My email spam folder practically fills up overnight with pitches for ways to drop sizes or lose pounds. I guess it’s the time of year when people make resolutions about health but good gravy, I am tired of these solicitations. They’ve gotten to be more prolific than the ones offering me an easy solution to taxes or a miracle cure for psoriasis or dates with women from eastern European countries. Body image is and has been so prevalent for women that even Mrs Hughes on Downton Abbey was obsessively worrying about what Mr Carson would think of her body at the age that she is. Mrs Hughes, I am so happy you didn’t back out of the wedding — Mr Carson thinks you are beautiful and so do I. To paraphrase Anne Lamott, one of my favorite authors, if our self worth depends on a few pounds, rethinking our criteria is in order. My hope is that we all allow ourselves to feel loved, lovable, loving and lovely. Because we are.
Well said, but I for one must admit that I am thankful that the junk mail about weight and diets have out numbered the junk about increasing the size of the male “junk”. 😮