What have you got to lose?

It's a funny thing isn't it that when our babies are born we spend a large amount of time worrying about their weight gain.  If they lose weight we panic and dose them up on formula.  We are proud of their weight gain, we want them to be chubby (just as well really, as the Toddler was VERY chubby). We tell everyone how much they weigh from the moment they are born.  Because it is a sign of their health.

And yet as adults weight gain is the devil's work.  We loathe it, we try to avoid it, we punish ourselves for it.  We rejoice when we lose it, we fall in love with our scales when the needle points further to the left than before, we tell EVERYONE about how we lost the weight.   How hard we tried, or we just say it was really easy and it just 'fell off'.  Actually those are the sort of people I try to avoid.  The ones who can eat what they damn well like and NEVER put weight on.  It's just not fair.  Simple.

Do you find that many of life's achievements are remembered with memories of your weight at the time?

"When I travelled to Asia at 18 years old, I was 8 stone, oh those were the days"

"I remember when I first moved to London and got my own flat, I was so slim I could wear skinny jeans and  a crop top" (ok it was the early 90's).

And of course now "Before I had my children I was 9 stone/size 8/cellulite/stretchmark free" delete as appropriate.

Don't know about you, but to me life is punctuated by weight loss or weight gain.  I always want to lose that final 1/2 stone. 

Now here's the thing; I don't think I'm a shallow person, I'm certainly not obsessed with how I look.  I last dyed my hair about 3 months ago (at home, I'd never waste time in a hairdressers doing it, can't be arsed with all that sitting around upright and not being able to fall asleep).  I remembered to shave my legs recently as the sun came out and I thought I ought to.  I got a pedicure yesterday for the same reason and exposing my feet would not be a kindness.  I have a multitude of flaws that I could get rid off with the help of a good facialist.  But I don't have much of a beauty routine as I get bored quickly and the novelty wears off.

I only started using moisturiser properly when my friend Jo told me I needed to as I was getting wrinkly dry skin. I don't dry-brush or use cellulite creams or any of that stuff.  Well not for long anyway, I give it a week and if I don't look like Heidi Klum I give up.

As far as a beauty regime is concerned it's the same now as it was when I was about 13.  Not very comprehensive.

So why am I concerned with weight?  Is it some sort of measure of my self control?  My ability to achieve something seemingly unahievable?  And if I achieve that final 1/2 stone what will I want then?  Liposuction to remove the cellulite?

I know this is a contentious topic because this very day I have read a number of posts relating to it including this one from Mummy Limited.  It reassured me that many of my fellow mums are the same as me and want to shift that final, evil bit of flab that just WON'T go away.

Or is it just me?