Clean Up on Aisle Four

When you're in the grocery store and you hear over the loud speaker, "Clean up in aisle four," you probably think it's some toddler running wild. No. It's probably me.

I'm renaming my life. I'm Aisle Four.

I used to be organized but now a clean-up is needed. I've got to stop looking for vital information on scraps of paper.

I've got to clean up my attitude. Right now, people are avoiding Aisle Four.

I've got to gain some weight. (I know that is irritating to those of you who struggle with losing pounds. Trust me, a struggle is a struggle on either end of the spectrum.)

I've got to declutter this house. Aisle four has permeated every room. I used to blame a lot of this on the oldies but lately the husband has developed a bizarre attachment to the shredder and I'm shuffling little scraps of paper from room to room. Truthfully, I don't mind. It makes me think of the oldies. But I tend to run around with a broom or a vacuum.

Weight and Mothers

This is an observation and most definitely NOT a dig at mothers.

During my childhood, several of my friend's mothers struggled with their weight, including my own mother.

There's an old saying, "If you want to know what your wife will look like in 20 years, look at her mother." I wish that were true. I would be beautiful.

But I stood next to two friends last weekend while we celebrated our childhood and it struck me that we were the smallest women in the yard. One has birthed two children, one has birthed three. One of my mother's best jokes is she's still trying to lose her pregnancy weight -- I'm 45.

Sometimes we choose to emulate our mothers. I try. Right after, "What would Jesus do?," I ask myself, "What would my mother tell me to do?" Other times, we go to the opposite extreme. It's a little like saying, "I'm not you and you can't make me."

Comfort in Your Own Body

There's a lot of hoopla about the obesity problem in this country. It leads to dreadful things, diabetes and heart disease at the top of the list.

There's a lot of concern about anorexia and bulimia. Opposite end of the spectrum but equally scary. When I was in college, a girl in my dorm got so sick with anorexia that the fatty pads on her feet dissolved. Her parents took her home. Too late. She died.

Thankfully, I've never been overweight and I've never been anorexic. Like every other part of my life, I'm muddling through the middle.

As a teenager, being overweight must be awful. Other teens can be so cruel. Adults can be judgmental -- I'm ashamed to say, I've done it. The husband's favorite expression to yell at someone on the television is, "Stop eating!"

My mother once told me that she's self-conscious around my girlfriends. "You're all skinny girls." We are. But, it doesn't mean we don't have body image issues.

Some of my friends are too thin. I've been accused of that myself. There is no middle ground. Once you get to middle age, your body can be thin but your face is going to show it. Or, your face looks great but your body is a little plump.

Why don't men struggle with this?

Most men I know will whip off their shirts in a moment's notice and then strut around like they've just been named Body Builder of the Year. Meanwhile, the skinny women are tying scarves around their hips to cover their thighs.

Sometimes I watch the oldies. They have no body issues. She's lost significant weight since they've lived with us. (It's probably because I rarely cook.) I've been to numerous doctor's appointments, emergency rooms, or I've just wandered down the hall when they forget to close the door. I've seen a lot of nakedness.

They are totally fine with it. Occasionally, I get a little uncomfortable.

How Much Do You Weigh?

There are certain questions that are not polite to ask. At least, that's what I was taught. Politics and religion are tricky topics. "How old are you?" used to be taboo but that seems to have changed. I'll give you my opinion on current political situations. I'm anxious to hear what others think. I'll tell you my religious affiliation and I love a respectful debate. For years I was coy about my age but I'm over that now. If you ask, I tell the truth.

I won't tell my weight.

When my "sister" was 2-years old, she told anyone and everyone within shouting distance that she weighed 28 lbs. The baby used to tell everyone his weight. I guess we pay so much attention to height and weight charts when they're children, it's natural for them to be fascinated with these numbers.

There's a scale in my bathroom. The husband gets on it every day. Occasionally, he tells me the number. I rarely step on it. I know where I am by how my clothes fit. Sometimes I put my luggage on it to make sure I won't be charged for a bag that weighs more than 50 lbs. I've put the dog on it. Other than that, it's just one more thing I trip over as I stumble to the shower.

Sometimes the workout girls discuss weight. It's usually vague comments, "I feel fat," etc. (There is not a fat person in the room.) Rarely are numbers thrown around. I'm in safe territory because if someone asks me, I can honestly say I don't know.

I went to the doctor yesterday for myself and the oldies. The first thing they do is put you on that huge, ominous scale. Then, THEY WRITE IT DOWN! Another quirk, but this is not fun for me. Thankfully, my doctor is an honorable guy and a great friend. I'm fascinated with numbers but this number will remain our secret.