Posted by: jevcat | May 1, 2011

Temple Fugit

If it’s true that the body is a temple, my own resembles less your perky suburban church or schul than it does, say, the temple to Posiedon at Cape Sounion in Greece:  it’s been around for a while, and, while there’s been some repair work over the years (see “Nothing But the Tooth”), and I think it looks good for its age, it’s certainly not what it was when new.

It’s spring.  We’re actually starting to get some nice weather.  Outer layers of clothing are coming off.  I caught sight of myself in a store window reflection yesterday – not a happy sight.  Hence, my ruminations on bodies.

Under current economic conditions (mine, not the nation’s), new clothing is not really an option, and I’ve not been able to talk my Beloved’s Army sergeant son into giving me his digi-camo, so I don’t have much choice other than to mount yet another campaign against this too, too solid flesh.

I’ve battled my weight all my life, as did my mother.  My closet’s contents span about six sizes, most of which I cannot wear at the moment.  My job situation means I’m not climbing subway stairs and running around the city during lunch-times.  I keep saying I will climb the six flights in our building every day at least once.  At least once is how many times it has not happened – yet.

In my favor, I really like broiled fish (which we can’t really afford these days) and chicken.  I prefer vegetables without butter or sauce to interfere with their natural taste.  I crave salads.  I adore whole grains.  I prefer my tea plain (no milk, no sugar).

My Beloved, on the other hand, never met a cream sauce he didn’t like, thinks a bit of butter (or margarine or oil) makes everything better, especially if you put cheese on top, too, prefers beef to chicken, and likes the latter best breaded and sautéed.  My adored ripe bananas he refers to as “mucus fruit,” he shares my passion for strawberries only when they are sliced and mixed with sugar, and any other fruit except kiwi (go figure) might as well not exist at all – oh, except for lemonade, that’s a fruit, isn’t it?  He drinks cappuccino with cream.  To me, no dinner is complete without something green, to him, no meal is complete without something white.

In five years of living together, my biggest victory is I have converted him to salad most nights (he usually uses Newman’s Own Creamy Caesar, to my Newman’s Own Light Caesar or Trader Joe’s Fat Free Balsamic).  It’s a war of attrition – one I appear to be losing.  And, to all the unfairnesses of life, add this one:  he is not the one with weight and cholesterol issues.

Someday, maybe the twain (and the zipper on my favorite jeans) will meet.  Meanwhile, I’m planning to start being really good about what I eat and get more exercise – tomorrow.


  1. I’m hittin 228. Should be 200. It has nothing to do with chocolate ice cream and almond cheese danish. It is side effects of my medications. Or so I have convinced myself.

    • Some medications really pack on the pounds. My own medications, alas, give me no excuses.

  2. I’d probably land somewhere in between you two. I can appreciate unadulterated veggies but also have an affinity for beef. Love broiled fish with a side salad topped with creamy dressing.

    • I actually like all those things, too, but as treats, not as everyday fare. I’ve always said my problem is not that I like the wrong things but that I like almost everything. Sigh.

  3. My favorite food? Yes–
    and I struggle, too…always have…sometimes with actual weight or out-fo-shape-ness…other times, my perception of self.

    It’s hard, when you want to eat healthy…and your mate…doesn’t.

    now–go get on those stairs, lady!


    • Alas, Jane, I’m still working on the tomorrow part …

  4. I agree with your beloved. I have given up watching my weight. no matter what I do it stays the same. I am allergic to exercise. each time I try I break out in a sweat. I had to give it up. A side effect like that could lead to anything. By the way when did you aquire a son old enough to be in the Army?? did I miss something along the way?


    • Lief is my step-son (sort of), as he is Roger’s eldest.

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