All summer I've been road testing this new motto and it has done wonders for me. It efficiently dispenses with all manner of BS. The pediatrician can't vaccinate today because the appointment falls two days before a birthday? Who cares! You want beige walls but your husband wants beigy-grey? Who cares! You drove all the way to a mall that is closed on Sunday? Who cares! See?
But yesterday, the motto was stress-tested in the dressing room of Nordstrom by the four pounds that tacked themselves onto the five I already wanted to lose while I was running around having my aforementioned fun, carefree summer. I am sorry to say that my new attitude experienced a catastrophic system-wide failure in front of a three-way mirror.
It occurs to me that I have stumbled onto a new lesson - that career breaks, as precious as they are, are not only risky because of the career consequences, lost income, or the emotions of the whole family when you go back to work, but also because being happy can make you fat. Who knew!
So to borrow a phrase from Cindy Gallop, I am declaring my own Fatmageddon.
But there won't be a word about it mentioned in my house, because I have a daughter who, at 4, already cares too much about how she looks. When she looks in a mirror, I want her to aim higher than "who cares?" even if I can't always.