Being in the presence of a stick-thin, seventeen-year-old really makes you ponder your age, your size and – for me anyway – my metabolism.
Where has it gone? It isn’t low, folks, it is GONE. It isn’t here. I had a lovely metabolism on July 26, 2006 at 2:10 p.m. but on July 26, 2006 at 2:11 p.m. the metabolism was GONE… forever.
Now that I’m … ahem … 31, I can’t eat whatever I want and have it gush out through a hole in my foot. I can’t eat a pan of brownies and not see it on my rear the next day. I can’t scarf down a plate of fried food and my gut not get two sizes bigger within an hour (no joke).
When I was – say – a stick-thin, seventeen-year-old, I couldn’t imagine a day when I couldn’t eat whatever I wanted and have it not be seen me at all. No way, I said, would that EvvvvvvvvER happen to Meeeeeeee! ::: Gasp! :::
But, you know how this story ends… with everything I eat winding up on MY end.
Ahhhh to have my clothes fit like they do on a stick-thin, seventeen-year-old… To have everything fall into place nicely with no lumps or bumps or rolls protruding, etc… To have everything just sit there, as it should, like it does on a size negative-10 mannequin. Ah yes… those were the days… that would be nice.
But, even though I can’t go back to those sky-rocketing metabolism days, surely I can slightly awaken a sluggish, 31-year-old metabolism, right?
And I said it would never happen to me. Ha! This is a kick in the larger-than-I’d-like-them-to-be pants!
Take note youngsters! No one escapes! And if you do, I don’t want to hear about it!!!
To fly, we have to have resistance. ~ Maya Lin