Please don't skewer me for this. It's not going to sound right or good no matter how I say it, so I'm just going to throw it out there because it's clanging around in my head and I don't know what else to do with it.
My mom watched her weight her whole life. Religiously. She kept her weight down and worked hard to do so. She worked out regularly. She did whatever she needed to do to stay at a size 6 or under.
She died at age 53 anyway. And for reasons that had nothing to do with her weight or metabolism.
Sometimes, when I'm looking for motivation, I wonder (sure, rather morbidly, but what are you going to do?): if I knew that I was only going to live another 20 years, would I rather do it skinny, or would I rather just not worry about it already?
Sometimes I wonder if my mom ever reflected on it. And if she did, I wonder if she thought it -- the constant struggle with her weight -- was worth it.
I realize that it is entirely possible, and maybe even likely, that she did.
*While also somewhat morbid in this context, "cake or death?" is from a comedic routine by Eddie Izzard. Trying to keep it light. Pun intended.