Bonding

Once upon a time my sister Charlotte told me I was a hypocrite because I didn’t cuss in front of my girlfriends (yes, that was a really long time ago friends!). After a few rounds of discussion she asked if I had ever farted in front of Silvia.

“Of course not.” I said

“Well, if she was a real friend you would do it. That’s a sign of bonding.”

“Bonding?”

I found her philosophy hilarious and when I told the story to Silvia she thought it very funny also. Later I told the story to my FF girlfriends who also found it amusing. I told them the fact that we were having the conversation constituted a sort of bonding. I guess different generations have different ideas of bonding.

You are probably wondering why I would write about something as inane as this. Well, the fact is that our bodies have a mind of their own. There are times in middle age where this becomes apparent, like when your body doesn’t even look like the one you were born with. What has happened to the taut muscles of my youth? What happened to my belly? Let’s not even talk about the chin and jowls. Jowls? Where did they come from?

Once I get a handle on the whole phenomena of body image and women I plan on writing a book about it. Meanwhile I am still trying to figure out how I got from being underweight to borderline “obese” according to SparkPeople – a free website where you can get free diet advice. Let me tell you that if I hadn’t already been on the diet path I would have been propelled there by that one word! I have now kicked myself in the pants and am working harder than ever on my recovery plan. No excuses. I have a lifeplan that embraces longevity and I will not be my own worst enemy!

And in case you are wondering, I’ve bonded with my yoga class and my masseuse. But that’s another story.