Resolutions

         So there I was, sitting in a friend’s living room with a group of women 

 during the holiday season, and before I knew it, we were onto the subject of  New

 Year’s Resolutions. “Isn’t that a worldly concept?” one woman asked. “Not

 really,” quipped another. “You can resolve to do all kinds of wonderful things.

 Read The One Year Bible, take a class, become more organized, exercise 

regularly, baby-sit for young mothers, go for a mammogram, fast more often for

 your loved ones.”  I got up to get another cannoli.                                        

      Not many cannolis in Virginia and besides, the men were in the kitchen 

 discussing the national debt, a personally less threatening subject than the one

 going on in the living room. I shared my impressions of Alan Greenspan and was

 then beckoned back to the living room. “Do you exercise, Ellie?” an unfamiliar

 thin woman asked in front of the group. What did she mean? Mothering and

 marriage and laundry and cleaning and carpooling and mopping up after the kids

 vomit? Of course I exercise! How kind of her to clarify with,  “I’m speaking of

 regularly scheduled, focused exercise.”  I told her I was a great field hockey

 player just twenty years ago. She laughed…and persisted. “Surveys show that if a

 person does not have an exercise regiment by age forty, he or she will most likely

 never begin.” Great, I thought to myself It’s too late. I’ve missed that train.  I

 reached for the dip as she nibbled on plain celery.

      “Do YOU exercise?” I retorted.

      “Oh yes, an hour a day. Our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit.” If

 she’s a temple ,then I’m a town.

      “I suppose you also count your fat intake…” was my next effort at civilty.

 She grinned proudly. “Well,  actually, I’m on a practically fat-free diet.”  Of

 course. As the group discussion continued, I learned that the “thin” woman was

 another guest’s sister visiting from out of state. Her husband is a health fanatic,

 they’re wealthy and she never had children. I felt a strangely avenged.

      Poor thing. She probably spends so much time at the spa because she’s

 lonely. Her December tan became more obvious and made the rest of us look

 pastey. I felt pity For her. She’ll  never know the joy of stretch marks.

      Let’s face it. We all know a thin person who is obsessive and unhappy.

 Have you ever known a “jolly” skinny person?  My neighbor runs thirty miles a

 week and her face seems to be sagging prematurely.

cont. part II

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