I long ago concluded that a life without hot fudge sundaes is not worth living. Although at this point (in middle age) I probably only eat one a couple of times a year. I pretty much never eat pasta anymore and there are other things I do to take into account that my metabolism isn’t what it was in my 20s or 30s, but damn — looking like a cover model is just not worth not enjoying life and food. It’s like never using the “good towels” or drinking the collectable wine (what’s the point of collecting something you can’t actually enjoy?) It’s good to take one’s health and fitness seriously, but not if it impedes you actually enjoying your life. I would think it would be no fun at all to date someone like that.

Dispelling cultural myths with research-driven stories. My favorite word is “specious.” Not fragile like a flower; fragile like a bomb! Twitter @ElleBeau

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