Eat! Drink! Be Merry! Enough self-shit-talking!
Signing on to blog recently, I came across this blog on the WordPress main site. It was a good read, and struck some chords with me.
Basically, I had a bit of a rough winter. Jumped through some serious hurdles with work, and had two fairly serious surgeries to boot (one of them caused my body to have a panic attack, i.e. pass out and have a seizure – landing me in the ER: “oh, hello adorable EMT boys that I can’t really see right now – and me with vomit in my hair…”). One of the results of this was a lot of face time with my computer and butt time with my couch.
Hence – I may have put on a little weight since last summer.
Here’s the thing, though. I dislike admitting that publicly. At all. Sure, I can complain to my girlfriends but… I feel like saying that out loud means anyone reading this will automatically assume I’m just not that hot – hence, why am I on here whining? All I need to do is lower my effing standards.
I am faced, once again, with my own issues of weight. Which, like most American women (I am assuming – but can’t be far off), I’ve had about as long as I can remember.
But you know what? Fuck that.
Yes – I am carrying around about ten pounds more than I feel comfortable with. OK?
Fine. Whatever. Look – I made a deal with myself a year or two back, when I decided to go local. I decided that I was far more interested in doing good by my planet and good by my body than I did about fitting in to this societal ideal of a “perfect body”. By this, I mean I would eat good, whole foods in appropriate portions – as well as keep up my regular exercise. And not care about the fat or caloric content, because that was not the point – a lot of whole, local food is going to have some fat (more than that processed weight watcher meal in the freezer) but it was far better for me (as long as I exercised) than the alternatives in the grocery overall.
I also decided to refuse to worry about the instances when I went out to eat with my friends, which is about once a week (on average). Going out with friends should be FUN, not a self-induced guilt trip.
This deal worked great. Until I spent ten days in a bikini (I also think watching “Entourage” on Netflix is not helping…) And I found myself, once again, obsessing about calories, and fat content, and portion size, and dear god did I just eat that pizza??
Last week a good friend of mine was visiting. Over lunch, we were discussing mutual friends who are thin, yet complain about their weight (there was an appropriate context for this). He tells me he never knows how to deal with it, because when they say “ugh. I’ve gained weight!” he just wants to reply with “Good! Great! Go eat a fucking cheeseburger.” so he doesn’t exactly know how to respond. He proceeds to tell me that “maybe it’s just because I like thicker girls.”
Immediately, my gut reaction is… “thicker girls”?? Oh no – am I a “thicker girl”???
I had to tell myself to back. The fuck. Up.
He didn’t mean that in a derogatory way. At all. Sure, might not sound great, given my society-trained, sensitive little ears, but… That is what he likes.
Finally, I am involved in a burlesque dance company. It is an amazing group of women, and we have a great time. We also are (supposedly) all about empowering women through dance and expression of our sexuality. We believe all women are beautiful, and we should love our bodies. We should love our sex. And we should be having a goddamn good time.
Funny thing though – backstage during our shows? Do you have any idea how much we talk down on ourselves? How much we talk about our bellies and our thighs and our cellulite?? No one is doing this for us, in fact, they packed the house to see us take our clothes off so… why are we contradicting them to injure our own self esteem? When this is exactly what we’re supposed to be against??
We are a group of beautiful and incredibly talented women. And yet… we still can’t not talk shit on ourselves?
How are we so bad at taking our own advice to heart?
So. Enough of this bullshit obsessing over calories and cellulite. I treat my body like a goddamn temple – as well I should. Not because I starve her. Not because I fit her into a size four. I eat whole, local, organic foods – and yes, sometimes I indulge. Yes, they have things like fat and calories. But these are also things my body needs – and they are also full of other useful things, like vitamins and minerals. They are not processed, they grew until harvested or slaughtered, and then landed on my plate.
Thus, they are also good for my world, in a greater sense.
It’s also not about what I put in my body – but how I use what I have been given (plus – let’s be honest – you can’t eat whole foods all the time and then sit on your ass). I don’t abuse this, but I do make sure I am healthy and happy. I bike to work (about 14-20 miles all told), and practice yoga for at least an hour at 6am. Not because dear god I ate that pizza have you seen my ass?? but because I enjoy it.
Enough bullshit, man. Enough guilt and enough obsessing. I will not waste my time with this. And you know what? It’s more than the blog I read – because it’s more than just loving your body and giving society’s standards the finger.
It’s also about ENJOYMENT. It is about WHAT MAKES ME HAPPY. It’s about LIFE – which is too fucking short to not eat the food I fucking love. It is also too short to waste the body I was given. But enough abuse, enough restriction. I eat because I fucking love food – and I am not going to eat that pre-packaged shit simply because it doesn’t have fat or calories. What a waste! I fucking have taste buds for a reason!
I exercise so that I can eat that food – but also because it makes me feel fucking awesome. I adore yoga – it is a significant part of my life. I also love riding. These are things that were difficult to start and are still difficult and make me sweat and my muscles cry uncle, but they always pay off – NOT in the size label of my jeans but in how they make me FEEL.
Just live! Enjoy! Be healthy!
But, for the love, don’t give that up to guilt or self-shit-talking!
That’s right – I said self-shit-talking!