In Memoriam: My fast metabolism

I was a super skinny kid, and as a wise and all-knowing 8 year old, I assumed I’d be small and wiry forever. Then a catastrophe called puberty hit, bringing some home truths into the equation, and I spent the ages of 13 to 17 in a perpetual state of doughyness. I was not large by any means, but I definitely did not have the look of someone who could eat whatever she wanted and not gain weight.

However, in my late teens and early 20s, that all changed. I lost 15 pounds and virtually overnight I became one of those people unfairly blessed with a metabolism on hyperdrive. Perhaps the calorie-burning gods smiled down on me as reward for staying in school and saying no to crack, or maybe it was university and career-driven stress that did the trick, but whatever the case, the doughy days were indeed over and I spent a good 10 years not really worrying about what I ate.

Sure, I would gain a few pounds here and there, and yes it’s true that due largely to preference and dietary restrictions, I don’t lead a completely gluttonous lifestyle—I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, I can’t eat cream-based products, and most fast food doesn’t appeal to me. I also run (occasionally) and do karate (sporadically), so there has been some burning of calories the old-fashioned way as well. Still, I certainly take some liberties with my diet and my level of exercise, in that I can eat a medium pizza in its entirety and make working out more of a part-time commitment, and I’ve never had to have much concern over the consequences.

New reality.

Until recently.

I feel like it was right around the time of my 28^th birthday that I realized that the nuisance of gaining a bit of weight couldn’t be rectified by giving up fries for a week or taking an extra karate class. I began to notice that when I put on a few pounds, they tended to stay there, and I wasn’t just adding heft in nice places like my boobs or my cheeks. Also, I still felt hungry a lot, but slowly but surely I started to feel bloated at times I previously hadn’t been and wasn’t enjoying consuming large quantities of food quite the way I used to. Yes, this is when reality hit—my metabolism was slowing down and I wasn’t going to be young (or thin) forever.

We had a good run, me and my fast metabolism. I was fun back then—never a worry about another calorie-laden beer, never a concern about eating too much on the holidays or having an extra piece of toast (or 3) at breakfast. I didn’t have to be the annoying asshole at a work function who would sneer at everything delicious because everything delicious had too many carbs. Instead, I was the annoying asshole who would have seconds of everything delicious and then five minutes later complain-but-not-really-complain about how I couldn’t shop at the Gap because their smallest sizes were giant on me. Isn’t it a pain when your dresses are all loose at the sides and you need a belt with every pair of pants? Nope, in retrospect, it turns out it really isn’t a pain at all.

Overrated. Truly.

I would not by any means say that I have perfect eating or exercise habits now, but I am keenly aware of the price to be paid if I don’t make at least a bit of an effort, and to this end a giant plate of pasta doesn’t give me the same level of joy it once did. I know too that time is not on my side, and this isn’t something that’s going to go away, so it’s in my best interest to develop some good habits now. I try to tell myself, as I’m dutifully making my salads for lunch and exercising every ounce of willpower not to pack them full of croutons and cheese, eating healthy and exercising regularly does make you feel good and will ultimately make the aging process far less painful. Also our bodies change, I’m still perfectly healthy and not at all chubby, nothing wrong with being chubby anyway, blah blah blah (yes Mom, Dave, deeply irritated friends—I hear you). 

But let me just say that this is SO UNFAIR. Already I have to start worrying about wrinkles and grey hairs and wearing age-appropriate clothing, but now the fear of love handles and muffin top are part of this new reality too? And if I want a snack, that should probably something boring like carrots or maybe just a glass of water, not a cookie or a croissant or the ever-amazing ‘second dinner’? Getting older sucks!