I went to a birthday party for my Grandmother yesterday, and saw members of my family that I haven't seen in 20 or even 30 years. It was so much fun catching up with everyone; for the most part, I enjoyed myself throughly.
With one, rather weighty, exception.
There are some members of my family who have a serious weight problem. By that, I mean, they have a serious problem with other people's weight. I hadn't really noticed it before, because when I was young, I was very thin. I was too thin; it wasn't something I tried to be, I just grew 9 inches in about a year, and it took the rest of me a decade or two to catch up.
To give you a little perspective, I was 5'7" and wore a size one in 1976; before women's sizes started to relax and stretch. I didn't break 100 pounds until I was in my 20s. I was very, very thin. Over the years, I celebrated when I gained weight; I was very happy to find myself fitting into bigger clothes. I'm now on the slightly higher side of normal weight; I could lose a few pounds and get back into the middle of the range, but I'm not stressing over it.
I like my curves, and so does my husband.
So, after being on the other side of the country for nearly 20 years, and not seeing my extended family during that time, it was a bit of a shock to me to see how interested several of them were in other people's weight. It wasn't just me whose weight was noticed; almost everyone came in for a choice remark or two.
At first I was a bit hurt and shocked. But then I thought about it, and I realized that I like myself just the way I am. I'm healthy and happy and I enjoy my life. I don't want to be like the people they pointed to as examples; they're too thin. They work too hard at it.
Weight just isn't a problem for me.