Ridges, Splotches, and Eruptions

It took me a long time to notice that ridges had appeared down my once-smooth shins. Eventually, I noticed that I had ridges on two of my fingernails. Why on those two and not the others? Even worse, one of them has a black line that can't be rubbed off.

Recently, there have been annoying, itchy red splotches on either side of my chin. I have found a cream that makes them disappear -- but only temporarily. Other marks come and go. Some come and stay. Pimples and blackheads no longer come, but at least they could be counted on to dry up and drop off. My new "add-ons" in my senior years don't necessarily ever drop off or disappear.

My mother and her side of the family were petite and didn't struggle with weight. I favor my father's side of the family where the women tend to the Russian peasant shape. I always thought of myself as fat because, to my mother, I always was. In fact, old photos show me as an okay weight for much of my teen and adult life -- until menopause, that is. Since I lived in Asia most of the time between 1988 and 1997, I was used to thinking of myself as fat because Asians aren't. However, when I'd come back to the U.S. to visit my parents, I noticed how fat Americans were becoming. When I eventually returned to live in the U.S., I saw myself as overweight. However, the Body Mass Index gave me a classification of obese. That horrified me.

Now, about 16 years after menopause, in spite of Weight Watchers, in spite of eliminating "bad" foods, being careful about portion control, eating less than I want and exercising far more than I want, I have remained just about the same BMI obese weight. It's been easy on the clothes budget, albeit boring.

However, there is one special time when I come in contact with the thin person I am sure is inside me. I take yoga twice a week. One class is an energetic pretzel-type yoga. The other, a relaxing yoga, allows me an enchanting 90 minutes to connect to the thin me inside.

A friend recently sent me an e-mail with a photo of a nude "child of the 60s" now in her 60s. I guessed she was about my age and weight. Although the effects of gravity have long been proven, they were glaringly obvious in this photo. Her stomach particularly drew my attention. It looked so much like an erupting volcano with lava dripping down the sides. Except for her gray hair and the tattoos still clinging to just about all her body parts, I saw we looked uncomfortably similar.