As I creep through my 50s, I note these universal truths: We are what we eat, and it's not pretty to be a big piece of pie a la mode. Never mind that in some twisted way, we think it covers all four food groups.

That light, carefree running and jumping we did for hours, as kids, now has us panting in seconds flat. Friends, I refer you to The Cardiac Stress Test. ("I'm fine, Doctor," I gasp, silently beginning the Lord's Prayer.)

As we age, we may experience a very bad attitude, walking past people of the under-30 persuasion, all trim and lovely.

Can sucking-in of the belly be considered exercise?

Diet. Fitness. Stress reduction. Sleep aids. It's enough to keep you up -- snacking -- all night.

PART 1 -- 2005

My yearly physical. My doctor's jumping up and down, laughing wildly.

"Sixteen pounds. You've lost 16 pounds since last year."

It breaks my heart to correct him.

"Check your math. Six pounds."

His smile fades, his jumping slows to a shuffle, and he tries to cover his disappointment with the "good start" line. Then he explains that my glucose, perfect by yesteryear's standards, is now three points high. (Somewhere, in a far off "laboratory," some "expert" sits around revising "standards." What kind of a jerk messes with people's lives like that?)

I don't argue with my nice doctor. I simply express my feelings.

"Liar!"

Those "lost" pounds missed me so much they eventually came back.

PART 2: SCARING THE YOUNG

First, let me announce: I will never, ever deprive myself. You can see where this might slightly interfere with the whole weight loss thing.

My children like to remind me that many years ago I stood in the middle of the kitchen, making a startling announcement. I'd been thinking. I'd rather have an occasional bite of good quality dark chocolate than the usual tote bag full of junk food.

"From now on, I am only eating dark chocolate," I proclaimed, sending them screaming, thinking their poor, stressed Mommy had decided to forsake all other foods.

PART 3: EVERY CALORIE COUNTS

My husband sits down with a bowl of ice-cream -- guiltlessly -- and still remains trim (I hate runners, don't you? So smug.) But I've made a commitment to my health. To get fit, trim, healthy and, uh, just how long do you think it will be before I can have the good stuff again?

Monday morning.

I'm at Donut Heaven. For coffee. For weeks, a patient young man has waited on me as I've tried to fine-tune my beverage -- healthy, but still fabulous.

Jake: "Morning, Ma'am! Iced latte low-fat milk one squirt mocha, light whipped cream?"

I hesitate. He sighs, drops his head.

Me: "No, this time let's try skim milk."

Tuesday morning

Jake: (tense smile) "Hi, there! Iced latte skim milk one squirt

mocha, light whipped cream?"

Me: "Um, maybe three-quarters squirt mocha."

Wednesday morning

Jake: "Ma'am? Iced latte skim milk three-quarters squirt mocha, light light?"

His eyes are twitching. I notice a tremor in his hands.

Me: (beaming) "Half caf, half decaf. And no -- whipped --

cream!"

Jake: (tears in his eyes) "Yes, Ma'am."

Thursday morning

There is a young woman waiting on me. I look around.

"Where's Jake?"

The manager approaches, glaring at me.

"Gone. Out on disability. Stress."

Oops.

PART 4: PEER PRESSURE? STILL WORKS

My grown daughters recently played a nasty trick. They joined -- online -- that popular weight loss program that really works.

"It's actually fun, Mom," Sally said.

"I've already lost five pounds," Cassie reported.

They said I could eat anything, but I had to count the points. I studied it. Talk about your...