Morbidly Obese?

I woke up this morning and made a startling discovery – I don’t hate my job. I sort of always felt a little antipathy towards my career as a Geriatric Au Pair Extraordinaire (G.A.P.E); it was just a job paying the bills until my real life as someone vastly creative and important took off. Of course I dislike elements of it, like the geriatric faeces and emotional discomfort caused by seeing elderly nudes, but in general I don’t mind it. For one thing this job is wonderful for making ONE realise just how FABULOUS ONE IS my new mantra is “You will never be as young and beautiful as you are now!”

And of course my work teaches me a lot about human nature as it ages. I have uncovered another universal truth – woman regardless of their age obsess about their weight. In my latest G.A.P.E role I am looking after Eileen (I call her Eileen because she scoots along with a zimmer frame and is always in danger of falling over). Eileen bless her cotton socks (or knee high stockings as the case may be) has developed a little bit of a pot belly, which is to be expected when your day consists of sitting with your feet up snoozing in front of the telly, punctuated by meals and occasional chit-chat about the weather. In reality Eileen looks a bit like a kwashiorkor victim all sparrow arms and pot belly.

However, the poor old girl’s tweed skirts are starting to get a little snug about the waist. Yesterday she barrelled out of the bathroom demanding help as her skirt was attacking her. When we eventually excavated her from the interior we discovered that the skirt’s lining has ripped. Poor Eileen blames this on her weight gain. I think she got in a ravel in the confines of the bathroom and put her foot through it. Regardless we are now on DIET.

At 96, Eileen wants to go on DIET. Is she insane, in her position I would whip on elasticated pants and bring on the PIE. I would eat myself into the position of morbidly obsese – because at 96 morbidity is a hot issue - I think I saw death’s sickle sticking out from behind the curtains last night. I’d embrace the Elvis diet of cheese burgers and deep fried peanut butter sandwiches until my arteries were as clogged as the M25 at rush hour. And I would go fat and happy into the next life.

But, Eileen is neither fat nor happy. She has outlived all her relatives and friends (bar 2, see Wandering Mulburries). Not a day goes by we she doesn’t lament living this long. She is depressed by the samey-sameness of her life (everyday is Groundhog day) and yet she resists any attempt to shake up the routine. However, 5 years ago, Eileen chose to have a complex heart operation as she was given only 3 months to live. Due to her age she went through 3 surgeons before she found one willing to operate. Eileen has therefore made a concerted effort to live this long.

And this is the other universal true – we all want to live forever and we all love having something to bitch about. Now pass me that slice of ham and salad, oh, and that bread and brie and that apple crumble and custard…luckily Eileen’s version of a diet is a little different to mine. Just creating another fat cherub over here.