My friend-of-a-friend actually telephoned. She got the number from our mutual friend. She was worried about me. It was sweet of her. We had a good chat and I think we may become friends directly. No more of this vicarious acquaintance — this, “I danced with a man who danced with a girl who danced with the Prince of Wales.” kind of thing. I suppose, back in the 1920s when the song was popular, the population was smaller so it could actually have been true. Today, only Camilla gets to dance with the Prince of Wales. As if I should care.

Anyway, when we were talking, we compared notes about our various health problems. Between us, we could fill a medical textbook. People like us should be compulsory study for anyone who wants to become a physician — let them meet some real people before they go off and become specialist consultants in body parts and the plumbing. But one thing shone out like a beacon light. We are both of a certain age and long past caring about our looks, going through this weight loss regime so we can live a few more years. Why else would we go through the phentermine dance? I know when I was young, amphetamines were around and I don’t deny I might have tried one or two. But there’s a world of difference between a little experiment and a daily dose of phentermine for six weeks. Acomplia is better from that point of view — only another few days before I can start taking that again. Perhaps I really should break this cycle and try Meridia but, with the same risks of dependence as with phentermine, I think I may stick with the devil I know for the time being.

Anyway, back to my new friend-in-waiting. We’re both of a selfish cast. We reckon that if,

“The days of our years are threescore years and ten;

and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years,”

Psalms 90

we want to invest our strength and get the full eighty. There’s to be no skimping on our allocation if we have anything to do with it.

We have our loved ones. I’m soon to be a great grandmother so the family is slowly extending. We should all be allowed a decent time to watch our children grow up.

I know some people do the weight loss thing for cosmetic or commercial reasons. Look at Opra Winfrey. One minute she’s walking around on the TV screen looking just like the rest of us who’ve given up on looking good. And the next time I turn on the set, she’s waltzing around looking good again. I wonder if she did the phentermine thing as well? These celebrities have all these wonderful clinics that can dry you out if you accidentally let these drugs get on top of you. Less of a risk for them. Us ordinary mortals have to do the rehab things ourselves if things go wrong.

Well, whatever she took or did, it worked and she’s stayed on the thin side as well, so more credit to her.

Which brings me back to the day’s message. At my age, looks don’t matter any more. So I’m only doing the weight loss thing so I can live longer. But, even when you’re younger and you carry a few more pounds than you should, you’re not going to push yourself into years of effort just to look good. That’s a superficial reason and I don’t think that’s ever going to keep you motivated long enough to stay looking good when the years and gravity will soon pull you back to Earth.

Perhaps it’s fear. You see all these statistics about how people with too much weight die younger than thin folk. Trouble is, you see some success, get complacent and give up the diet. By the time the fear comes back, your weight is back again.

But for me and my friend-in-waiting, we’re doing it out of love for our families. So long as we’re not a burden to them — that would never do — we’re going to keep on popping the phentermine and watching those calories. Life is all the richer for loving and being loved.

Tagged with: Weight loss