All my life, I have been very active. At school, this brought me all kinds of problems. I was that kid standing in the corner.  My report card repeatedly included phrases like “Talks too much,” “Can’t sit still” and “Doesn’t live up to potential.” This was bad. My mother nagged, but nothing helped. My doctor told my mom to find classes. “She needs to keep busy. She needs to expend the energy.” So I learned to swim at 3 years old and soon after that joined a swim club. I started dance lessons at 4, basketball at 7. But still the report cards came in with “Can’t sit still.”
Fast forward to me at 60: I sit in the office meeting with students. I stand in the classroom lecturing. At night, I crash on the couch. On top of that, I am an empty nester. Suddenly there is no laundry to do. No cleaning. No little league. No ballet. Just TV. Just work. No more hyper. No more svelte body.

But I am still surprised that suddenly the scale in the bathroom is rising. My reflection in the mirror is growing like a fun house illusion. Not exponentially. Slowly. Like a frog in a frying pan basking in the sauna. Slowly like a killer snail ready to take down my spinach. This is my fate.

Regardless, I am a problem solver who takes care of things. I know the solution. Listen to that doctor from my childhood. “Find classes. She needs to keep busy. She needs to expend the energy.” As a diligent patient, I joined a gym: Friday on the bicycle, Saturday on the Elliptical, Sunday in the pool. My miserly ways help. That gym is sucking money out of my bank account every month so I had better get my money’s worth. Every weekend, I ride that bike and get nowhere. I work that elliptical and the weight still creeps up. I forgot about the pool last year and spend time on the bicycle again on Sunday. I joined Tai Chi and attend Mondays and Wednesday. My doctor would be proud of me. But the creep never stops.

Why do I care? Why does weight matter? I am old (or at least older). I have earned to right to grow up or out or whatever way my body thinks fit to do. Haven’t I?