Let Them Eat Cake!

Had I created the female body - there’s a few things I would’ve done quite different. Topping the list, would be the way in which food impacts the female frame.

Men don’t have a clue as to the quantity of math done by women during the course of a single day. For some, only a few calculations are made, for others, the amount of adding, subtracting and dividing is phenomenal. 

Not all, but nearly every American woman views food with an invisible price tag. On that tag is a number. A price to be paid, if you will. This number represents either calories, or the amount of exercise required if said food is consumed. There isn’t a woman out there that chooses to be overweight. Instead, as she was busy living her life, the rules regarding food swiftly changed. So now, as her age increased, so has her need to be conscious of what she eats. And that’s no fun.

If I had created all things, women would be able to eat whatever the heck they wanted. We would enjoy dessert after dinner, and we would do so without any thought as to what that innocent little piece of cake will be doing to our midsection two days later.

I’m fortunate to have a relatively high metabolism, and yet even with that, no food escapes the numbers game in my head. When I notice my marsupial pouch is popping out or when it takes he-man strength to button my best fitting jeans, the numbers game gets even more rigid. I’ve been stuck in this body for awhile. I know the rules I need to follow. I don’t like the rules. And, if given the option, I would change the rules. I think most women would. 

I don’t want to have to break a sweat or burn off anything, just because I enjoyed pasta, bread or - God forbid - a potato with my dinner. So, I rarely enjoy these things. If I enjoyed exercise, then it wouldn’t be too much of an issue. But I don’t. I don’t want to be conscious of how much juice I’m drinking either. It’s juice for God’s sake. It’s good for me. All of those natural sugars should nourish my body, not make me larger. But larger they make me, if routinely guzzled later in the day. The rules vary from woman to woman, but we all have rules, even if we are conscious of breaking them.

None of this, makes for a happy gal. Many women just say, the heck with it. Life is too short to be wasted counting calories or running in place. They throw their hands up in resignation. Had I created women, this wouldn’t happen. We’d have cinnamon rolls for breakfast. We’d enjoy cookies in the afternoon with our friends, and warm buttery or olive oiled rolls with dinner. If we wanted to kick back a soda, we’d do so. And not the type filled with sugar substituting chemicals. We’d nibble on this, we’d nibble on that. We would only graze on oats for breakfast if we wanted. And when we undressed at night, we would do so without a care for whether the lights were on or not. Because our bodies would be svelte, our abs would have no rolls, and are thighs would be just as slender as the creator (that’s me), had intended (which would be very slender). 

Without a lot of mental anguish or physical effort, we’d still be happy with our bodies. Leaving our minds, to focus on more important things.

Sane