Yesterday, I heard a discussion on numbers and how they define us. Particularly, numbers pertaining to women’s age and weight. The crux of the conversation was this: Women HATE to tell folks how old they are or what they weigh, because if the numbers don’t jive with what society deems acceptable, women feel diminished.
The women in the group hesitated to reveal their age/weight, looked uncomfortable, and actually squirmed. If they took too long to offer their numbers, the other ladies chided them! “TELL US!” It was like watching a hungry pack of weird wolves.
My reaction to this conversation was: This is important? Why are people asking in the first place? Why does it matter?
Ain’t nobody’s business. It’s akin to asking how much a person earns. And, seriously, don’t we have bigger issues in front of us than age and weight?
What the hell is going on that women still think this is a worthy topic to mull.
Do I care how old I am? Hell no. In fact, I feel the exact opposite. Every year I’m granted, I rejoice. “ANOTHER YEAR! WHOO-HOO!” Why? I’ve experienced the pain of friends dying too young, so I know that #1) life is short, mah babies and #2) it’s a privilege to grow old.
We all know this culture is youth oriented, but I can’t concern myself over vapid leanings; I’ve got real life to live, no matter what my age.
The weight matter? Another number that doesn’t define you, man or woman.
When I was younger I was concerned about my weight number. A lot. Was it too high (at the most: 160 plus)? Was it too low (at the lowest: 118)? Did it change who I was at my core at either end? No. Did it make me miserable obsessing about the number I sought? Immensely.
As a gal who has more years behind her, as I’ve witnessed chronic illness in some and death for others in my age-group, I am at peace with whatever number is on that scale. My point of view is this: As long as I can move through life with strength and energy, what do I care what the scale tells me? Why let a number shape how I feel about myself, when I know how I feel about myself?
I eat well, exercise regularly and pay attention to my health. I also enjoy cake, an occasion umbrelly drink and double-meat cheeseburgers. I want to live fully; I intend to live fully.
Youth has it’s advantages, but so does age. I think it’s time, TIME PEOPLE!, to embrace ourselves whatever our numbers may be. We are worthy and valuable no matter our age, no matter our weight. We are amazing and it’s time to recognize.
I get that some may not be happy with their weight, either high or low, but to say that the number defines you is setting the limbo bar on the ground and not even giving yourself a chance to play. Don’t you want to play? Come on! Limbo is fun! (especially if the umbrelly drankity dranks are flowing!)
As I listened to the wide range of women lament their age and weight, I felt sad. Aren’t we more than this? AREN’T WE?!
What do you think?
Originally published in 2011, at Patti Tucker