The Call of Youth

When I first met my husband (forty-five years ago) I weighed one hundred and ten pounds. After raising two kids and a lifetime of reading, watching television, writing, and everything sedentery once housework was done, I had accumulated a few more pounds. My svelte body turned to flab and fat. A month ago I weighed about one hundred and fifty pounds.

Most of my friends are bigger than I was and I could still squeeze between two parked cars with no problem so my weight didn’t bother me, and didn’t seem to bother my husband. He always said my weight didn’t bother him. But then he would say things like, “You know doctors say that your knees and hips wouldn’t bother you so much if you would lose weight.” Or he would say that the internet showed that weight loss was the best cure for joint pain.

It hurt my feelings but it also made me realize that I had taken our relationship for granted: something easy to do when you’ve been married this long.

I colored my hair back to its normal light brown, got it cut and started exercising (yuck) and dieting. I am pleased to say that I have lost about twenty pounds, feel better about myself, can now see a little bit of my abs, and my husband is paying more attention to me. When our oldest granddaughter (eighteen years old) commented that my hair looked good after I had colored it, he said, “She did that for me.” His smile was as big as his heart.

Now we are currently traveling, seeing the sights in the northern panhandle of Texas, and are planning to try zip-lining, which is available at the Palo Duro Rim RV Park/Zip Lines. Amazing scenery and fabulous company.

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