Tuesday, December 4, 2012
I went to a funeral recently of someone who died in part because of their weight. Or so the son said in his eulogy. It reminded me of a secret fear of mine. I remember that when my mom died I was sad for her because she never got to lose that weight she kept trying to. The thing is, I look back now and see where she was and I look at pictures of her through the years... she really never was very heavy. Certainly not like me. She was beautiful and just didn't have the body she wanted, or her old gymnastics body. Except her legs... she always had killer legs. Anyway, I have this fear that I will die and someone will think the same of me... "Oh, too bad she never got to get rid of that weight she put on having kids." or "Too bad she never had enough discipline." or "So sad that she didn't get a chance to really see herself for how beautiful she is and just enjoy herself before it was too late."