Smoke and Mirrors

Five More Pounds

Faigy Spector

The second thing my mother said after she visited me post-birth was, “Five pounds this birth, five pounds next one, and before you know it, none of your clothing will fit.”

This was her mantra as long as I can remember: “Yes, she looks beautiful in her wedding gown, but just another five pounds…” “The secret is to weigh yourself every week and catch it before it gets to five pounds…” All of your life, every meal you eat, every time you join a simchah, you are teetering at the edge of a precipice. Just five more pounds and you will no longer measure up, no longer be worthy.

I remember one time when I made the grade, dressed up for a simchah. My mother arrived, took a look, and said, “Wow, you look like you’re a size six!” Her tone implied that I had reached the pinnacle of feminine achievement.

I fought the good womanly fight for many years, but at some point the usual tactics stopped working. I am long past “just another five pounds.” I will never again be a size six (and never a size eight, either).