I'm on Facebook with Redhawk Rice-Sauer, pastor and homeless advocate, who wrote this today: “My old man is 95. He doesn't eat much and never really has much of an appetite; but, if you put a Big Mac in front of him it is gone… His response: “what's it gonna do; kill me?”
My mom is 91 and scolds herself for eating more chocolates than she thinks she should. We always say, “You're 91! Maybe that's why you are!”
Do you think in your 90s, you'll feel free to eat whatever you damn please (if you still can, I mean) or will the caloric guilt follow you to the grave?