The Village Squire, 1981-07, Page 16Six Achers
An invitation to a swimming party has
given me food for thought - the only kind
d nourishment that contains no calories.
1 know from past experience that
contemplating my navel accomplishes
nothing, and only obscures the view of
my toes. As they say, if the shoe fits,
wear it, and if the bathing suit doesn't,
diet.
Reducing diets and I are old friends. I
have lost, or temporarily misplaced,
hundreds of pounds, and am prepared to
say au revoir - till we meet again - to
many more. Goodbyes are so final.
Down on the farm, animals are divided
into two categories, poor feeders and
good feeders. Poor feeders are the
farmers' despair: buckets of protein -rich
grain and bale after bale of sweet hay
vanish without a trace into walking
skeletons. Good feeders, on the other
hand, gain weight on a regime of potato
peelings and sawdust.
I am a good feeder. If 1 were a Hereford
heifer, I would be showered with honors
and acclaim at the Royal Winter Fair, and
my calves would be worth a fortune. Alas,
I am a human, and my calves are
worthing nothing to anyone but myself.
Gone forever are my dreams of
someday gracing the centrefold of Village
Squire. Besides, who wants a staple
through her middle? On the other hand, it
might curb one's appetite.
Thin is in. The sight of a skinny fashion
model in Vogue or Harpers Bazaar
reminds me of a Kipling poem. Rudyard
understood the phenomenon no better
than I when he wrote:
"A fool there was and he made his prayer
(Even as you and II)
To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair
(We called her the woman who did not
care.)
But the fool called her his lady fair -
(Even as you and 11)"
Sounds repulsive, doesn't she? Yet I
long to be in style.
As I fight the battle of the bulge, I have
one consolation. I am not alone. Jackie
Gleason reputedly has complete ward-
robes in four different sizes. Elizabeth
Taylor looked svelte and beautiful on TV
last month as she participated in the Tony
Awards ceremonies. However, I fear that
dieting has upset her hodv chemistry -
her eyelids were a brilliant cerulean blue.
On second thought, they did match her
dress.
PG. 14 VILLAGE SQUIRE/JULY 1981
by Yvonne Reynolds
Weighing in for the new bathing suit
When I first heard that Doctor
Tarnower had been shot, I insisted that a
dose friend account for her time the
previous day. She had not been doing
very well of the Scarsdale diet.
1 find as I grow older that weight
becomes increasingly easy to put on, and
even more difficult to take off. When 1
lamented to a literal -minded young friend
that I have reached the age of bulges,
bridgework and bifocals, she looked at
me in astonishment an4. exclaimed, "I
didn't know you played bridge!" Maybe
those extra pounds aren't so obvious after
all.
I do plan to shed them, though, for
economical as well as aesthetic reasons; I
will save on the grocery bill and will not
have to purchase a new bathing suit.
I have not decided whether to ask my
friend M. to again diet with me, or go it
alone. Two years ago, M. and I made a
solemn pact, sealed over coffee and jelly
doughnuts. We would diet for the next
month. At the end of that time, the
biggest loser would be the winner, and
the recipient of a cup and saucer from the
other.
We weighed in, checking each other's
avoirdupois on the scales. The more I
thought about dieting, the more I lusted
for fried chicken and heavenly hash ice
cream. M. was faring no better. At the
end of the month, after locking all doors,
pulling down the blinds, and stepping
with trepidation onto the scales, we
agreed that we needed more time, and
extended our contest for another three
weeks.
I hate to brag, but I was the winner.
After all our efforts, I was only one pound
heavier than when we started. M. had
gained five. 0
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