‘Slimming after sixty’: Inheriting the ‘cuddly’ gene

What did you inherit from your family?

My cuddly, grey boomer sisters and I inherited Great-Grandma, ancestor of the senior, sweet, little old Grandma racing team.

These days, we all look in the mirror, and hear echoes of our family oracle saying “You’re fat!”. Like she wasn’t! Ha. We did inherit a good sense of humour.

Yes, we all inherited the cuddly gene. How did this cuddly gene develop? Well, we all have a special subject – food. My pet special subject was always profiteroles. That’s where the mystery of this flab came from. My Grandpa’s special subjects were forever scones and plum pudding. One relative’s special subject is doughnuts, totally slimming. Another rel’s speciality is coffee scrolls.

To study your particular special subject, one must compare a variety of versions at different hospitality cafes and bakeries. Then you can rate the cakes, and dare we say it, make judgements. My family award grades from A-Z on the quality of the individual’s special subject of choice.

“You’d eat Jesus off the Cross!”

“You’re fat!,” the ancestor’s voice still declares, all these years later.

“Loose lips sink ships!”

No time like the present to secretly start my new self-healing: “Slimming after sixty.”

I could take up online classes in exercises and dancing for seniors. I decided not to share this challenge with anyone.

“Procrastination is the thief of time!” A ghostly reminder.

Like a lot of older people, I was awake early. “No time like the present.” Yeah, yeah, too true. I prepped my “Slimming after sixty…” starter kit. I draped a hand towel around my neck, popped on my new sensible joggers, and filled a professional gym water bottle. I was there! Aha, perfect. An online dancing course. Bingo (might have been better off playing bingo). It was slimming time.

I must say it was with great enthusiasm that I took up line dancing. My circulation was soon pumping, as the rain was pouring down past my front window.
But! By the end of the first ten minutes, I was clutching the back of a convenient chair.

“I’ll give you something to whinge about.” Yes, Great-Grandma, absolutely.

I wrecked my knee and had some weeks of hobbling around lamely, in deep pain. I had to consult my chiropractor to get suitable exercises and remedies.

I had a long, slow recovery. “The nights are drawing on now.” Yes, O wise family sage.

Over three months later, my boot-scooting hooley-dooley days are definitely ended forever. I can now stagger to the letterbox, appreciating waking up positive.

As the nights draw on, I’m getting ready for Christmas. Procrastination and all that.

I found a local bakery that makes a profiterole cake, only have to order one. It is a veritable mountain of my favourite specials. “Waste not, want not!” I would not waste one scrumptious mouthful of a profiterole cake.

“Do not trip up trouble!” Okay, okay. Great-Grandma’s book of proverbs lingers on, down through the years. “And you’re fat!” And that’s that.

This is a true tale of that epic quest and challenge of “Slimming after sixty.” I was on a hiding to nothing, with my genetic cuddly genes.

What did you inherit from your family?