Body Geography

Between meetings about teenage stress, and communications strategies I got my haircut and my nails done. Seemed like the right thing to do since Easter was coming. I am young enough that I don’t have a weekly standing appointment to get my hair pumped up like women a generation or two older than I am do a day or two before church, but I still would like to look somewhat presentable on Easter Sunday.

When I say I got my nails done I think I should clarify that by saying I had my old tired hands rubbed and my pitiful short nails polished in a color so as not to draw any attention to them. When all that lotioning was done I looked at the back of my hands and they appeared to resemble one of those plastic 3-D maps we used to have in school of the Rocky Mountains and the Colorado River. By hands have lost most of their fat and the blue veins stand proud of the hands as they traverse the knuckle mountain range.

What I will never understand is how my body decides which fat to get rid of first when it is in need of fuel and which fat it thinks I need to hold on to in case of a marathon running emergency. You would think that at some point my body might say, “Hey there is plenty of belly fat to spare, let’s let some of it go,” and send it a pink slip in the weight loss paycheck. But no, skinny hands and feet seem to be the priority. It is kind of like the remote branches of my body get the cuts first before the home office.

Thinner hands are nothing but age snapshots. There is a reason that women used to wear gloves. Although thinner hands look old it does not really affect my clothing, as does the weight loss in my feet. These days I am finding myself walking around on the inside of my shoes. It is not really a problem for my Mary Jane sneakers since the strap will hold them onto my feet, but for things like pumps I am having trouble not walking out of them.

I hope that my hands and feet can settle into a good plateau and the mountain ranges of my thighs and stomach can begin to contribute their fat stores to the universe. I am not expecting to become some salt flat dessert, but I look forward to wearing down the rolling hills.