I really want some chips

But I don't want to get fat. Not now; not ever.

There. That feels better. It's a confession of sorts, something I would rarely admit to other people. I'm an intelligent woman, generally unconcerned about my appearance -- little makeup, cheap haircuts, clothes shopping bores me, and I'd live in jeans and t-shirts if I could -- except for this one thing. Fat. And I'm not fat. Yet. But the fear of gaining weight after being slim all my life haunts me. But I don't discuss it with my friends (it's so shallow to care); I go to the gym to "stay fit and healthy", not to (shamefully) lose weight; and I try not to wonder why I'm the only person at yoga whose stomach and thighs seem to get in the way when doing forward bends.

I don't diet officially. On the contrary, I adore food. I love reading cookery books and restaurant reviews. Baking is probably my No. 1 hobby at the moment, and I feel out of sorts if I don't bake something at least three times a week. The one time I tried Atkins, I lasted a week before waking up in tears, desperate for a biscuit. However, I do the sort of dieting that most women do instinctively: barter dieting. "If I skip the starter, I can have the dessert." "I had miso soup and broccoli yesterday, so I can have ice-cream today." That kind of thing. And then I'll make some of my fabulous PB&J shortbread and try not to eat it all as soon as it comes out of the oven. Magazine articles trumpet "How to look fabulous at fifty/sixty/seventy" and I just want to know when I can stop caring about it all and finally relax with a box of violet creams.

It seems such a selfish thing to be worried about.* Most people in the world would love to have the luxury of gaining weight or having too much food. I sit in yoga classes and contemplate how I'd reintroduce rationing if I was in power. Get rid of all the processed crap and extoll the joys of lentils, tofu, and tempeh. Redistribute the gallons of cream and mountains of butter to those who really need it. (But I'd want to keep the cheese. And the muffins. And the ability to make cookies.) I'd also ban cars and make everyone cycle everywhere. If you positioned it as "Thinner Thighs Under The Dumpling," it would be a vote winner!

Food. Such a minefield for women. Men get judged by their wealth, women by their body mass index. Despite being the most powerful woman in the US, able to make and break authors and products, Oprah is still all about the diet and fitting in to the size 8 jeans. Donald Trump's combover is, by contrast, a mere personal quirk that does little to detract from his (overstated) wealth. Yep, fat -- or the lack of it -- is still a feminist issue.

* I do worry about other things: global warming, poverty, war, plane crashes. I just want to make that clear.