Fit to Print Volume 23 Issue 2: June 2014 | Page 14

M e m b e r Pe r s p e c t i v e By Christine Jelley The 55 Year Old Bridesmaid Caution: May Be Too Sensitive for Certain Readers emotional reactions, the “wow” factor or lack of it, etc. The post game is usually at a diner, a place I'm already avoiding in order to fit into a bridesmaid gown. Logic aside, something shifted in my brain during shopping trip number three, and I forgot that I should be looking for an age-appropriate dress. Unfortunately, half the bridal party is age 50+ and the other half is in their early 30s. Two full generations separate what is “age-appropriate.” And younger women always win Part One I feel the vein on the side of my forehead pulsating with hunger, a repetitive conga beat that echoed my depravation. April 24, 2014 A s we scratched our way through this hellish winter, a friend got engaged. Ah, love. I haven't been to a wedding in a long time, and a September wedding date gives me plenty of time to get back to an “I mean business” schedule at the gym. I imagined shopping for a cute cocktail dress, impractical heels, and smoky eye makeup. Then I got the call, a request to be a bridesmaid. I am 55 years old and have two sons in their 20s, which squarely puts me in “Mother of the Groom” territory. “Here we go,” I thought. “Gowns, arms, alterations, bachelorette parties...” I haven't been in a wedding party in 26 years, with good reason. I'm old. But she needed me. I responded “yes” without hesitation. I soon joined my friend on a series of gown hunts. When a TV bride says, “Yes to the Dress,” I am on the couch nodding, disagreeing or dabbing the odd tear. One of the reasons I get so involved in it is that the drama is over in 30 minutes. Real shopping trips are significantly longer with pros and cons lists, detailed analysis of fabric, drape, 14 because a.) Older women are too tired to argue b.) We don't care nearly as much. As the maid of honor and bride narrowed the choices of gowns, I hit the spin and yoga rooms with renewed zest. I love a good deadline. Tighten up and lose 10-15 pounds in six months time. Really try to make Eileen's spin/arms torture sessions on Wednesday and Friday mornings. My son added My Fitness Pal to my smart phone, a handy little app that easily permits me to calculate the number of calories I need per day in order to lose two pounds of weight per week. It also automatically adds extra usable calories based on exercise done that day. My particulars afforded me 1200 calories. This will be a cakewalk, I thought. No biggie. I've done this before. Ten days later, I can report that 1200 calories/day has me starving. I feel the vein on the side of my forehead pulsating with hunger, a repetitive conga beat that echoed my Summer 2014 FIT to Print deprivation. I initially weighed in at the gym without my reading glasses and had no idea what the true start weight was, so I estimated. After these imprecise maneuvers, there was no real way to gauge how I was doing. It appeared that I lost 1.5 pounds in ten days. Let's put it this way. I lost virtually nothing, and yet I was not all that discouraged. <> I vowed to weigh in wearing glasses from here on and just stay the course. I also upped my calories to 1500/day and reduced the weight loss goal to one pound a week. So ridiculously reasonable, I didn't even know myself any more. Immediately thereafter, I went on a one week diet/spin break because a new medication was giving me daily headaches and heart palpitations and I thought I might drop dead on the spin bike and I'd rather drop dead at home in front of, “Say Yes to the Dress: Bridesmaids.” The problem has since resolved, so no need for anyone to dry clean the black linen dress or run to [