Yesterday, Jeff, my big brother, took me to breakfast at Penny Ann’s Cafe. Waiting for my Eggs Benedict with home fries and toast, I snapped a selfie with Jeff.

Jeff looked great. His smile was warm and natural.

I, on the other hand, looked old. My neck is too thin.

In the film, The Bridges of Madison County, there is a scene where Meryl Streep turns to walk into her home. Clint Eastwood is watching her. She self-consciously brushes her backside. Dwight said, “She’s perfect. She aged well. You need a little more weight as you get older.”

My weight, whether too fat or too thin, has been my nemesis. As a teenager, I was too fat. I battled bulimia and anorexia. I tried crazy diets that required me to eat ice cream, tunafish and beets.

As I aged, my emotions factored into my weight. Sadness and stress kept me from eating. Those demons stole my appetite and I grew thinner and thinner.

Whenever I speak with my mother, she tells me, “You’re too thin. You need to eat more.”

Seeing the photo of Jeff and me, I realized she was right.

So, it was ironic that the very day I decided I was too thin, the framers called and said, “You can pick up your canvas.”

The Fat Lady was stretched and ready to come home.

She is on the wall of dining room. She is my role model.

Funny thing, today, my Vanity Fair arrived. 

Goldilocks waffled between too soft and too hard, too hot and too cold.  I am not going to eat waffles to be “just right” between too fat and too thin.