…and go ahead and eat what you want. Within reason, anyway.
That was the message I walked away with after an interview I did for a magazine story on body image that I’m working on. Granted, I was at my mid-afternoon blood sugar nadir, so my hungry ears were primed to hear permission to go down and grab a yummy, organic, yet still calorie-laden snack from Pret A Manger and not fret too much about the consequences. Which is what I did.
I don’t want to give away too much here, because I’m being paid to write the story, but one of the points this very, very funny doctor, Pamela Peeke, made, was that back before they invented antibiotics and knew all kinds of miraculous ways to keep us breathing until we were stooped with age and our boobs reached our “menopots” (Dr. Peeke’s term for that belly pooch women get in their 50s), we didn’t give a low fat Fig Newton about how we looked once we were done reproducing. If a woman lived to be old enough to stop having periods, that was a minor miracle, given life expectancies back in the day, so she wasn’t freaking out about the fact that she was Formerly Hot and dying to still look as if she could bear a child well into her 60s.
Her point was that we need to have more reasonable expectations about what happens to our bodies as we age so we’re not so shocked when they change. Nowadays, we seem to think they’re infinitely malleable, which, despite liposuction and other bizarre surgeries, they’re not.
I loved what she had to say–look out for a future issue of Prevention for the whole article–but then it occurred to me: is this the same thing as that “Look on the bright side: You could be dead” kind of comment my friend’s friend made, and I posted about, the other day?
I don’t think so, but it does have shades of that. Thoughts?