?We?re slowly dying in front of each other,? I tell my husband the other day. ?That?s great,” he says. “We are growing old together.? ?That?s not great. What is great about me completely falling apart??
Understand. I had just asked him to bring my reading glasses down so I could read an article from Allure magazine. Without the glasses, I couldn?t make out if plaid was in for fall or out. Can you imagine the mistake I could have made? It?s in btw.
I had also had a pretty rough week. It started with my physical. I felt pretty cute that day, too. I always make it a point to look good for doctor?s appointments. I wear a cute outfit, add some inches with a good wedge, and exude youth with a sheer lipstick, I even line the inside of my eyes to make them appear wider. It?s like on dentist day, when I brush extra hard and floss for the first time for the young teeth appearance. I truly believe I can change the results of the examination. Kind of like when you lean the direction you want the bowling ball to go.
Well, when I got on that scale at the physical, it was as if I had rolled the worst gutter ball ever. ?A seven pound weight gain since last year! Seriously?” I questioned the nurse. “Is that right?” I mean, they still use a scale that could fetch a huge amount on Antiques Road Show. (?Ah yes, this is very valuable. This was the scale that first weighed Theodore Roosevelt.?) ?I look really good, don?t I?? My hands grabbing at her shoulders. The nurse nods, ?You look great.? The doctor comes in. ?Doc, why did I gain so much weight? I have been drinking a lot this summer. Could it be the drinking?? He explained that a glass of wine is about 100-300 calories per glass, so if you have a few, then that can add up. Let?s see. I do the math in my head. Five, carry the two, times seven, add some lunches. Holy shit, I think to myself. ?I?ll give up bread,” I tell him.
Other than the weight, he tells me I?m completely healthy. ?No thyroid problem?? I ask hopefully.” Nope, you are perfect.”
The next day after my physical, I go to get my hair colored. Apparently, gray hair didn?t get the memo that I only want to go to the salon every four weeks. No, I now have to race to the salon so I don?t look like Linda Evans. I go in, and my colorist tells me she can?t even look at my hair until I get it cut. Understand, I went in with hair well past my shoulders, very Carmen Electraesque, and walked out with hair a casting director would describe as, ?Get me someone with a mature haircut that could really convince someone to buy Metamucil.?
Weight gain, check. Unsexy hair, check. Then I?m home, and Scott brings my glasses downstairs, turns the wrong way, and hurts his back.
And this brings us back to the beginning. Scott and I sitting on the couch, me with the reading glasses, him with the sore back. And a bottle of wine.
But no Stacy?s Pita Chips, aka, the crack of snack. I am determined. I?ll be skinny and old.
***I did try to find benefits to reading glasses a while back. Check out A Mom Finally Sees The Brightside