By Meghan Riney 
I spend 23 hours a day thinking about my weight.
OK, that’s a bit extreme—there is sleep, so let’s just say 16 hours. I spend 16 hours each day thinking about my weight . . . or at least it feels that way.
The other day—must have been hour 17—I began to think about this: Why do I still carry with me these adolescent obsessions? Are they so ingrained in my psyche that not even decades of growth, innumerable experiences, and general intelligence can drown out the voice in my head that says I should be a size four? Curse you, marketing!
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What if I actually spent the rest of my life dedicating a good portion of my thoughts and energy to my weight, my beauty, my success, and all of the other things society would have as my focus instead of things of Godly value, of richness and depth and meaning?
What if I got everything I am told I should want? What if I became everything I’m told I should be? What if we swallowed everything we’re fed?
I’m not sure we’d like the final result:
MEGHAN R. RINEY
(NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS–2077)
A memorial for Meghan R. Riney will be held at the Riney mansion on Monday at sunset. Please teleport promptly at 5 p.m. to the Riney Estates vineyard for a cocktail reception. Meghan is survived by her loving husband, Sir Kenneth Riney, Esquire, the first American citizen to be knighted, and her darling sons . . . as well as their wives who were never truly able to replace Meghan as the most important woman in their lives.
Meghan was born and raised in Dallas, but her real legacy began at age 38 when she finally lost 30 pounds. Everyone was relieved and the town folk collectively rejoiced.
The same day she became thin, she also became gloriously—and instantly—rich, which made her so much more likable. Finally able to afford Botox, her children’s hearts warmed to the mother before them devoid of forehead wrinkles. It was a dream come true for these three boys.
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Meghan found that after she lost the weight and the wrinkles, she was able to perfectly frost cupcakes so they looked like artifacts instead of food. And her children’s lunch items were cut into a plethora of figures, resembling a Little People playset. It was challenging to cut the kale, hemp seed, human growth hormone, fish oil, apple cider vinegar, chia butter sandwiches into tiny Taj Mahals, but somehow she always found a way. It was true love.
Meghan will be remembered for her clean house. The laundry was always folded and put away, and her children’s LEGOs were organized by set in their original boxes.
Meghan’s friends will miss having coffee with her in the mornings—mainly her granite countertops, natural light, plush furniture, intellectual, yet quirky coffee table books, extensive knowledge of coffee beans, and inspirational latte art.
Her husband, Kenneth, will always miss her pleasant demeanor and the way she was always supportive of every idea he ever had while also standing up for her own ideals because she was a modern woman . . . while also supporting her husband, while being her own woman, while also being a part of a team, while being independent and strong, while letting him take the lead, while secretly leading everything, while being submissive, while being a feminist.
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Meghan’s sons are mourning the loss of their dear mother, a woman they will always remember for her toned physique, expensive jewelry, exhausted passport, and fine-tuned wardrobe. They will miss the expensive gifts she was able to buy them, and they will never forget how much it meant to them to have perfectly styled childhood rooms.
We will all miss Meghan. In her, we have lost a shining example of everything a mother, a wife, and a woman should be.
Originally published on the author’s blog
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