87/22

Her real name is Anastasia. She goes by Susie. I call her grandma. She is 87 years old and currently kicking my ass at the game of life. I thought I was a vivacious 22 year old woman, but now, after a phone call with Susie this morning, I realize I’ve got a lot of living to do.

On my walk to retrieve my bike, I thought it would be a nice idea to call my sweet, adoring grandmother. I start with the simple question, “What’s new with you?”

“Well, I’ve actually been working out a lot,” she says very matter-of-factly.

I said, “Oh really, tell me more.”

I thought I was walking into a conversation that would go more like, “I made lasagna today.” No lasagna was mentioned during this conversation.

“I’ve lost a lot of inches in my waist and I can pull my pants up so easy now.”

I thought to myself, aw, that’s nice it must be hard to pull your pants up at 87. I then realized I, at 22 years of age, can barely get my pants up everyday. So now I’m really listening.

“Well, I want to look good for Jessica’s wedding so I made Uncle Vinny buy me an exercise machine.”

Let me give you some background. My cousin Jessica is getting married this October. The family is freaking out with joy which also means the family is freaking out trying to find the closest Weight Watchers meeting. I don’t know what about weddings makes everyone want to lose weight but I’ve reluctantly joined in. That’s how the Italians get you-first they stuff you with struffoli and then someone decides to get married and everyone who’s been forcing pasta down your throat is suddenly afraid of carbs.

“Wow grandma that’s great.”

“So, what do you do to exercise?”

I think back to my last few days. I went on a walk, but ended the day ordering an XL pizza from Domino’s. I did some yoga, but only after the guilt I felt waking up next to a McDonald’s wrapper.

“Oh, you know, little bit of this, little bit of that.”

I really have to be more like my grandma.

***

Let me also tell you what happened at my cousin Vinny’s birthday party. (See picture below-also note the shoes and Michael Kors bag)

caption: Pretty sure that L is for loser and the loser is me.

This photograph was taken shortly after a conversation we had about breakups. Everyone at the table had a story about a nasty breakup or two and then it was Susie’s turn.

“Well, I’ve never been broken up with so I wouldn’t know how it feels.”

I blurted out a controlled yet angry, “Are you fucking kidding me?” And then, “I’m sorry grandma, are you saying you’ve never been hurt or heartbroken?”

“Not ever. That’s why I feel bad, I don’t know what you guys went through. I can’t relate.”

I really can’t handle her. But, I totally can. She’s my new motivation. Not only to lose weight (no, not just for the wedding) but to not let men break my heart, get my ass out of bed, and to pull my pants up “so easy.”