Not my fault.
This post on dooce.com felt like being punched in the solar plexus, all the air forced out of my lungs with a WHOOF and I need to curl up in a ball. Heather wrote about being in therapy now, as an adult, to cope with pain from her parents’ divorce 25 years ago:
This is about the discovery that at my core is a ten-year-old girl who thought that she was responsible for keeping her entire family intact. If I was perfect, if I excelled at everything, if I didn’t show weakness my family would stay together.
But then that family fell apart anyway. All that work, and it fell apart anyway.
Because, boy howdy, does that sound familiar to me. I’ve had regular sessions with a therapist for more than four years now and I still haven’t really dealt with the responsibility I feel for my family’s disintegration — not due to divorce, but due to my mom’s death from cancer when I was 10, and my dad’s corresponding emotional checking-out. I am still only barely chipping away at the emotional demons that say, You killed your mother by not being good enough. And you weren’t perfect enough for your father to love you.
Ironically, fat acceptance is addressing this in a way that nothing else has before. Because I’m learning to accept my body, I can look back at my childhood and say, Of course I was good enough; that was never the issue. There’s a ten-year-old magical-thinking mentality I still have to overcome about my mom dying, but when it comes to my relationship with my dad, it’s healing now in large part because I can finally see that my imperfections weren’t what was making him distant.* I can see how much effort I put into being thin in order to gain his approval — and how much more energy I put into being perfect in every other way possible, to compensate for not being thin enough — and I can grieve for the childhood that was lost, the warmth and security and acceptedness that I didn’t feel; but I’m beginning to stop blaming myself for not attaining physical perfection, then or now.
(*My dad’s had a lot of therapy, too, and being able to talk openly about things that went wrong when I was a kid has helped me make a ton of progress. So I don’t want to downplay how his growth is impacting my own.)
Accepting my fat self means that not only do I get to let go of the shame I felt about my body, but I also can let go of the other things I was doing to compensate for my shame. I can begin to take off the other behaviors I’d adopted to make myself acceptable in spite of my fat — the always having to appear to be the smartest person in the room, the funniest, the most self-reliant; the never admitting that I needed help, the never admitting when I was wrong, the snarky criticisms of others, the inability to accept a compliment instead of deflecting it.
And conversely, four years of therapy have gotten me to the point where I’m healthy enough for fat acceptance. If I hadn’t spent the past four years deconstructing the false self I wear to present an appearance of perfection, I wouldn’t be ready to make peace with a body that doesn’t meet society’s standards. I’ve spent four years slowly taking off the things I wanted people to see, grieving for them, and letting them go; taking off an expectation of future thinness is an appropriate next step, and one that helps all of the earlier pieces to fall into place.
I’m finding that making peace with my body means making peace with all of myself.
Outfit of the Day: Easter!
You guys, I am about to show you something that has never before been seen on this blog: an outfit made of pieces that AREN’T FROM LANE BRYANT. Shocking, I know! I’ve never shopped at Avenue before (and actually, I didn’t really know they exist), but this post on A Well-Rounded Venture was so enthusiastic about their sundresses that I had to go try them on. (Plus, ever since I broke up with Lane Bryant, I’m in need of another brick-and-mortar store I can shop in.) Anyway, Nicole was totally right about the sundresses – I bought one, and I’m thinking I’ll probably be back for more by summertime.
So, here’s what I wore to church for Easter:
Dress: Avenue. Cardigan: Lands’ End (Sears). Turquoise camisole: Lane Bryant (crap, so there was one LB piece. I can’t escape them.). Necklace: Old Navy. Shoes: Wal-Mart clearance.
We had to take these pictures in the living room because it was raining out — it’s been raining ALL WEEK and my kids have been on Spring Break and I’ve been stuck in the house with three antsy boys. Save me. (They’re back to school tomorrow, hurrah!)
(Insert obligatory pun about my right to bare arms. Ho-ho.)
Also — Saturday night when I was pulling out clothes for the boys to wear to church, I came across a VERY disco-era, sea-green, polyester, three-piece suit that was Aaron’s as a little boy. I held it up just to say, Ha ha, look what your Daddy used to wear; but Noah was instantly smitten with the suit and decided to wear it to church. I gently urged him that maybe the suit was a little, ahem, old-fashioned, not to mention hot and itchy, and would he like something else, maybe a nice argyle sweater? But he was determined, and my policy on clothes for the kids has been that as long as it’s reasonable they can choose what they wear (although this is the first time my resolve to let them decide has been tested)….so, here’s what Noah wore to church on Easter Sunday:
A five-year-old in a sea-green leisure suit. That, Internet, is my gift to you. You’re welcome.
Intuitive Eating: The Story So Far
This post is the first in what I hope will be an ongoing series of updates about what I’m learning about intuitive eating and how to best feed my body. I’m posting here not only to share what I’m learning with others who may find this information useful, but also to document this information for myself to refer back to as I work on building a better foundation of healthy eating for myself and my family.
Also, please note that I’m really, really new at this and still learning what it’s all about – baby steps.
***
Exploring intuitive eating makes me feel like a scientist. I can’t remember a time when I haven’t been influenced by other people’s judgments about food — broccoli good, Twinkies bad; skinless grilled chicken good, fried chicken bad; spinach good, carrots bad (that one from when I did the Carb-Addict’s Diet); beans good, rice bad (South Beach); Triscuits good, Wheat Thins bad (Sugar Busters); fat-free sugar-free ice cream good, grapes bad (thanks, Weight Watchers). Intuitive eating means I wipe the slate clean with all of those judgments and I eat like a researcher: I’m observing the effects that different foods have on my body, making hypotheses, and then testing those hypotheses to see if they’re valid. It’s the scientific method, y’all!
For instance: I’ve long been a big diet soda drinker — Diet Coke with Lime, specifically. I got hooked on Diet Coke with Lime the last time I did Weight Watchers, and then I kept drinking it because (a.) I felt I could drink it without feeling guilty, and (b.) honestly, I liked the taste. (It’s the Lime.) But about a month ago I finished up my 12-pack and decided not to buy more, because I was trying to limit highly-processed foods so I could better tune into my body’s signals.
Then last week, Aaron brought a 12-pack home from the store, and I drank a can with lunch. That evening, after we got the kids to bed and collapsed on the couch to watch Criminal Minds reruns, I realized I was starving – despite eating a dinner that had left me feeling full only a few hours before, and despite eating normally all that day, I was ravenous. So I fixed myself a plate of leftovers from dinner and ate them…and it was like my hunger hadn’t even been touched. Even though I could feel that my belly was full, my brain was convinced that I was famished.
I wondered: Were the Diet Cokes with Lime affecting my hunger/satiety mechanism? So I went a few days with no soda, maintained my normal eating pattern, and then tried a Diet Coke with lunch again — and the same thing happened that evening: a feeling of starvation that I couldn’t shake, even though I knew I was full.
So I’ve concluded that artificial sweeteners may affect my body’s ability to feel satisfied by food, and it’s something I’m watching for now. That’s not to say Diet Coke with Lime is completely off-limits to me now; just that I’m aware of the likely effect it will have on my body if I do drink it, and so I’m making an informed choice. (And frankly, I’m far less likely to choose to drink one if I know I’m going to be feeling unsatisfiably hungry later, because it was not a good feeling.)
***
Other things –
1. Breakfast: For a couple months now my breakfast has been the same items, varying only in quantity based on how hungry I am that morning: whole wheat toast with peanut butter, a grapefruit, and a latte. It’s a good breakfast for me because it provides me with plenty of energy that lasts until lunchtime, and the foods are ones that I really enjoy. And eating the same thing for breakfast every morning gives me a feeling of security that I don’t have to be making food choices before I’m fully functional, and provides a morning ritual that I find soothing.
2. Salad: It turns out I really like salad! This is surprising! Salad has always been a staple of any diet plan I’ve been on (from the salad you’re required to eat every night at dinner on Carb Addict’s Diet, to the year I gave up everything except fruits and vegetables for Lent), but I never actually enjoyed it. But here’s what’s changed salad into something I look forward to eating instead of a chore: regular salad dressing. Also the occasional croutons or shredded cheese. Thanks to those couple of tablespoons of full-fat dressing, I’m eating plenty of leafy greens and raw vegetables, because I want to. It’s been revolutionary!
3. Lentils: I wasn’t a huge lentil fan until I took an Indian cooking class last week and learned to make dal. A few days later I made a batch of dal and brown basmati rice for lunch. It was yummy, but it didn’t necessarily seem like anything extraordinary — until the next day, when I realized that — well, when I realized that apparently I hadn’t been getting enough fiber in my diet before then. Because I went to the bathroom, is what I’m saying, and y’all, it was miraculous. So now that I know what the, ahem, results can be of an increased fiber intake, I’m more aware of finding other ways to incorporate it into my diet. (I just can’t go back to the way things were before. Once you’ve gone like that you you cannot go back, if you get what I am saying.)
So that’s where I am with intuitive eating so far. It’s hard for me to take a neutral approach to food, but practice, practice, practice, right?
No means no.
Lately, since I’ve publicly renounced dieting, I’ve gotten a handful of concerned questions from friends who aren’t sure they’re understanding me correctly. Or they aren’t sure I’m understanding me correctly. The conversation usually goes something like,
Friend: So what are you saying – you’re not even going to try to lose weight anymore? Because [lots of sciencey things about how terribly unhealthy it is to be fat].
Me: Even if all that were true, [lots of sciencey things about how permanent weight-loss isn't actually attainable and attempting to lose weight carries additional health risks].
Friend: Well, sure, the ridiculous magazine diets are all bunk. What you really need is a lifestyle change that involves eating less and exercising more — have you thought of that?
or
Friend: I get that the human body isn’t designed to respond to caloric deficit by reducing weight long-term. But what if you just reduced your food intake and lost weight really really slowly so your metabolism had time to adjust to having less food?
or
Friend: If you just sorted out all the psychological reasons that made you fat in the first place, and all the negative emotions you have about food, I bet then you’d be able to lose weight.
or
Friend: [any other condescending suggestion that tries to find a loophole in the decision I've made, after a lot of thought and research, to stop trying to lose weight in favor of adopting behaviors - like intuitive/body-conscious eating and regular enjoyable exercise - that are proven to have a positive impact on my health]
I’m going to be as clear as I can: I am no longer trying to lose weight. Click the links above and you’ll see why I’m convinced that continued efforts at weight-loss are a losing (har!) proposition for me, based on loads of evidence that bodies are wired to want to stay the same size, that the process of losing and then regaining weight (which is the near-inevitable result of dieting) taxes the body more than maintaining an “overweight” size, and — most importantly — my own experience has taught me that trying to lose weight is detrimental to my mental and emotional well-being.
I’m choosing to be content with my weight instead of pitting myself against my body in attempt to somehow circumvent its genetically predisposed size. If science is able to come up with a proven method for permanent weight loss in a way that does not otherwise compromise my physical, mental, or emotional health, I’m sure I’ll revisit this choice. But until then, I know I’m a healthier person for living in a way that values and nurtures my body in the size and shape that it is.
I’m choosing to stop dieting. And before you ask, no, I’m not going to be doing [insert any other term that means "trying to lose weight"] either.
The Old Woman
This post doesn’t completely fit in with the health-at-every-size, fat-acceptance topics I usually write about here, but I felt it was important to share anyway. My uncle forwarded this short story, which he found among my 86-year-old grandmother’s things, out to my family this week. The story is simple and poetic, lovely for all of the love and pride that flow from every word. And it’s poignant for its picture of a little girl who didn’t know her own power, and a woman who never let herself discover her own potential, but poured all of her wishes into her children. Like The Giving Tree,it’s a story that’s open to interpretation; for me, it’s a reminder not to hold myself back from pursuing the things I love* – that nurturing my children’s dreams doesn’t have to mean losing my own. I know that one of the best gifts I can give my children is a mom who is fulfilled, and whose fulfillment doesn’t depend on them.
(*Here’s the part where I tie this into body-acceptance: For me, one of the biggest things I let hold me back is my own lack of self-confidence, and my own self-imposed limitations, because of my size. I tell myself I’m not going to take my family camping, not going to learn tai chi, not even going to hike or swim or dance like a maniac in the living room – not going to enjoy any of the activities I do in this body “until I’m thin”; and so I deny myself experiences that could make my life fuller just because my body isn’t meeting my expectations. [Sidenote to a sidenote: I wrote a post over here about my nascent Life List.] As I make peace with my body, I’m working on changing this.)
***
“The Old Woman”
by Helen Slaughter Jordan
2-16-08
Once upon a time there was an old woman. One day she began to think of all the things she treasured. She thought about how much she loved her bluebird plates, and about how much time she had spent trying to find them. She thought about when she was a little girl, and how she dreamed of being an actress, or a dancer, or of playing the piano all alone in a big auditorium. She thought how it was that she could have done all this – but when she was a little girl she didn’t know that all these possibilities were inside her, and she didn’t know that confidence could unlock the door and let them out to be nurtured and developed.
But, she remembered, one day the little girl discovered books, and she was happy. For a while she could be the beautiful people she dreamed of being.
Then she grew up and loved someone and was loved, and after a while she found something better than being an actress or a dancer or someone great – she had beautiful children who loved her. And she watched all the gifts she had wished for herself unfolding in her children.
She listened as her son played beautiful music, and thought how much more happiness it gave her to hear the applause for him than if it had been her own.
She saw her daughter, beautiful in her wedding gown, and riding off with her knight in shining armor, and thought how much better it was that her daughter would miss some of the cares that she had had.
Another son brought his friends home, and they became her friends. And she thought how much better it was to have young friends when you are old than young friends when you are young. And this son would sometimes tell her his dreams and they were always good and she thought how happy she would be if his dreams came true.
One son never told her he loved her, but he brought her a little pitcher with roses on it. And once he gave her a Mothers Day card that said he loved her, and she believed it. She knew it was not easy for some people to say I love you.
But then one day all her children grew up, and they were busy with their own things, and she was proud of them. And she gloried in their successes, and would have borne their failures if she could, but she couldn’t.
Now she doesn’t want anything – the children have everything they need. And the old woman wonders what she can leave to mark her place here. She wonders if the bluebird plates and the crystal glasses were too important to her. She wonders if she could have met more needs if she had been looking. And she hopes that her beautiful children will use all their wonderful gifts wisely, and that they will leave a better mark than she ever dreamed.
***
[Scans of the original story in my grandmother's handwriting are after the jump.]
“Made to Crave”: In which I review a book I haven’t actually read
(This post is going to be rather rudimentary HAES 101, but I need to spell it out because I’m still trying to work out what a lot of this means for me. Apologies for the tl;dr.)
A friend told me she’s just started a group Bible study using the book Made to Crave: Satisfying Your Deepest Desire with God, Not Food. I’ve been on a hunt for HAES-type books written from a Christian perspective, so I did some flipping through this one with the Look Inside! feature on Amazon and on the book’s website, but I ultimately rejected it as being somewhat problematic. Here’s why (and if you’ve read the book and find my interpretation to be off base, please let me know):
Foremost, it looks to me like the book emphasizes weight loss, even without saying so directly. Although it says it’s not a “diet book” but a “lifestyle book,” nearly all of the “success stories” featured on the website recount participants’ weight loss as a result of following the study. Weight loss in this case seems to be equated not only with physical health but also with spiritual closeness with God; the book jacket (at least in the online copy) even says, “Reach your healthy goals and grow closer to God through the process.” That’s fine if the “healthy goals” are simply to adopt healthier behaviors. But if the “healthy goals” the book is trying to help the reader reach are in any way weight-focused, then the writer is conflating spiritual maturity and weight, and that’s problematic.
***
Then there’s the whole issue of food cravings — which in this usage seems to be shorthand for “cravings for foods that have low nutritional value.” This sentence from Health at Every Size has really stuck with me: “If you’re treating your emotional needs with food, you don’t have a food problem, you have a self-care problem.” Everything I’ve believed up until this point was that if I’m craving foods as a way to fill (or more often, muffle) emotional needs, then it’s the eating that’s unhealthy; when in fact, I’m discovering it’s the opposite. If I’m doing a good job of caring for my emotional and spiritual needs in healthy ways, then I’m not likely to be using food to fill that role, and the problem of emotional eating pretty much solves itself.
(I’m not claiming that this is true for everyone’s experience with food cravings and emotional eating; my experience is only my own, and I can’t speak for anyone else.)
Sometimes, too, we tend to describe behaviors as “emotional eating” when in fact they aren’t based on emotional reasons at all. When we diet and deprive our bodies of the food intake it needs, we may be able to override our bodies’ drive to eat for a time; but there comes a point where, biologically, our body begins shouting so loudly for food that we can’t help but eat. We attribute it to a lack of willpower or to emotional eating, but in fact it’s a result of the rush of hormones our bodies release that are designed specifically to make us eat. What and how much we eat is not entirely under our conscious control.
Within the environment of intuitive eating, I can eat whatever I want, because those wants are based on mindfully gathering feedback from my body; I know that my cravings are biological, not emotional. My body is learning that I’ll give it the foods it asks for, so it responds by asking for the foods that it needs; and I’m honoring God by trusting Him to use the body He gave me, made in His image, to take care of me. When I divorce chocolate from the connotations of guilt and food-sneaking and forbiddenness, and I’m not using food to fulfill an emotional need, then the only cues telling me to eat chocolate are my body’s physical hunger needs for that specific food. And once I’ve had as much as I need, I can set it aside and go on with my day, not carrying guilt for eating the chocolate, and not thinking about the next time I’ll get to sneak away and eat more of it. My relationship with food is no longer obsessive, but simply to meet my needs.
When my cravings aren’t colored with scarcity or guilt, I find myself craving nourishing food much more often; because while the way a specific food tastes is desirable, what’s more desirable is the way a food makes me feel. We spend a lot of time thinking and worrying about what foods are best for us to eat, which ones are good and which ones are bad, but in the context of intuitive eating, this pretty much resolves itself. In the context of intuitive eating, the Food Guide Pyramid becomes not a prescription for how we’re *supposed* to be eat but a description of the foods our bodies are naturally craving, with individual variation for each unique body; the foods we crave are the foods we need to be healthy; the foods we choose are the foods we need, not because we have to, but because we want to.
(This is kind of an oversimplification of this whole process, which I hope to address in more detail later, but it’ll do for now.)
Food itself doesn’t have a moral value. The act of eating a Twinkie, in and of itself, isn’t sinful. Paul responded to the Corinthians’ question about the morality of certain foods by saying, “Everything is permissible — but I will not be mastered by anything.” With intuitive eating, I’m not being mastered by out-of-control cravings, but am able to mindfully respond to my body’s needs.
Because I know that eating releases serotonin and endorphins, I can recognize that it is intended to be a pleasurable activity and not feel guilty for enjoying food. When I’m eating only what I know my body needs, I can be satisfied that I’m not turning that pleasure into idolatry. Caring for our bodies is a moral issue, but I’m learning that caring for our bodies is incompatible with dieting — intentional weight loss defies too many of our biological processes and is contrary to how we were designed to function, and it decreases, not increases, our bodies’ health.
***
So, when a Christian book promises to teach me how to “Replace rationalization that leads to diet failure with wisdom that leads to victory,” I’m wary, because what it seems to be saying is that “rationalization,” not biochemistry, is what leads to diet failure and that there is Biblical “wisdom” that will result in diet victory — i.e., being able to maintain permanent weight loss. This sounds to me like it’s not only promising something it can’t deliver — because our bodies are designed not to achieve diet “victory” — but that it’s intertwining it with our relationship with God in a way that I believe could lead to further frustration and spiritual depression. For me to find a book about food cravings and Christianity useful, it would need to acknowledge that food cravings are, to an extent, valuable biological feedback from our bodies about what they need, and not impediments to a closer relationship with God.
Outfit of the Day: SuperNerd
Joss Whedon is one of my favorite directors, and one of my very favorite Joss Whedon projects — besides Buffy, of course — is the internet musical miniseries Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. I love it so much that sometimes I pull up the lyrics and make Aaron sing the Billy and Penny duet “My Eyes” with me, over and over, and he does, which just shows how much he loves me, and that he is a very, very tolerant man.
Anyway. For Christmas this year, I made my brother – who introduced me to Dr. Horrible – a Captain Hammer shirt. (Captain Hammer is Dr. Horrible’s nemesis.) Then I made Captain Hammer shirts for me and Aaron, just for good measure. They look like this:
Blue shirt is Croft&Barrow from Kohl’s. Black shirt is a Lane Bryant tee with my own felt applique. Jeans are Lane Bryant. Red shoes are from Wal-Mart.
I’ve worn this outfit to class a handful of times in hopes that it would draw out some other nerds, but no luck so far. Disappointing.
Why did I feel the need to pose like Artie, the Strongest Man in the World, for this picture? I have no idea.
All I know is, These are not the hammer.
An open letter to Lane Bryant
Dear Lane Bryant:
Leave my tummy alone.
This weekend, when Aaron was out of town and the kids were with my in-laws, I had the all-too-rare opportunity to do some clothes shopping all by myself. There aren’t a lot of stores around here where I can actually walk inside and try things on in my size, and for all your other faults, Lane Bryant, I love that I can go into your fitting rooms and play dress-up, so that’s where I went.
I was wandering past an aisle of pants, in search of a black pencil skirt, when your first sales associate pounced. “Have you seen our new Tummy Tightening pants? They’re fabulous – they really help minimize that problem area.” She continued: “Our store is one of the test stores that gets to preview them and give them feedback so they know whether to introduce them in all of the stores, so I hope you’ll try some on and let us know what you think!”
Well, she did ask for feedback. “No thanks,” I said, “I’m pretty okay with my tummy the way it is.”
She looked startled. “Ah—oh,” she said, and left me alone.
I gathered an armload of clothes to try on – including this cute sundress, which wasn’t in on the rack in my usual size 24 but I decided to try in a 22, just for kicks — and headed back to the fitting room (although I never did find a black pencil skirt that didn’t have Tummy Tightening Technology).
The sundress didn’t fit, of course. I asked the sales associate (a different one) if they had it in the next size up; the 22 was almost perfect, but just a bit too tight in the waist and hips. “Oh, that’s easy!” said Sales Associate #2. “Just throw on some Spanx under there and it’ll fit perfect!”
“I’m not big on Spanx,” I replied. “They’re so uncomfortable.”
“Oh, who cares if you’re uncomfortable,” said SA#2, “when you look fabulous!”
Here’s the thing, Lane Bryant, that you and your sales associates don’t seem to be understanding: I already look fabulous. I’m not interested in magically squeezing myself into a dress that’s a size smaller if it means I’m itchy and sweaty and I can’t breathe. I don’t know what your fixation is with my midsection these days, but it’s just fine. I don’t need you to sell me fake self-esteem packaged as Tummy Tightening – I have plenty of real self-esteem of my own. All I want is to find clothes in my size that fit my body the way it is.
And since it seems that’s too much to ask, I’m afraid I’m leaving you for a retailer who respects me the way I am, instead of one whose corporate culture is to tell me my body is flawed. My areas don’t have any problems, Lane Bryant, is what I’m saying; so we’re through. It’s not me, it’s you.
Sincerely,
A formerly loyal customer
Treadmill thoughts
I’m at the Y, walking on the treadmill. I’m surrounded by fat people, thin people, old people, young people, all of them trying to make their bodies stronger. It’s peaceful. I have a view out the window and Adele on my iPod. My legs feel good, strong. Today I’m walking a little faster than I did yesterday, I’m a little less out of breath.
But I’m not present.
In my mind I’m eight years old, hiking with my family. It’s spring in the Blue Ridge Mountains, beautiful. Today I have the honor of walking in the front of our line, but I’m doing it wrong. I’m too distracted by everything around me, thinking about everything but my feet. When you’re the leader, you have to be the pace setter, have to pick a speed and stick with it, have to concentrate. This is about responsibility, not pleasure.
I’m ten years old, walking in the park with my dad, around the pond. I’m watching the ducks. Dad is watching the woman walking ahead of us on the path. “Do you see how her thighs are rubbing together when she walks?” he whispers to me. “You don’t want that. Listen, you can hear them rubbing.” I say nothing. He adds, “But at least she’s doing the right thing – walking it off.”
I’m twelve and I’m terrified of being fat, so I get up at 5:30 four mornings a week to walk with my stepmom and some of her mom friends. I’m walking because it’s junior high and kids are awful – I’m being bullied by the mean girls and overlooked by the popular ones. If I can just lose weight, maybe I’ll fit in, maybe junior high won’t be so hard.
I’m twenty-six, and in my head I’m trying to work out how many Points I’ll earn for walking around our neighborhood. There’s a box of Girl Scout cookies in the freezer, and I am walking for Thin Mints. I’m tired, I want to go home and read a book with my kids, but if I walk once more around the block I’ll earn another cookie. Earning that cookie outweighs everything else.
No. No no no.
How many positive associations do I need to make about walking before they overwrite the negative ones? How many rights does it take to erase a wrong? Why is it so hard to shake off the past and simply take pleasure in this present, this movement?
I breathe deeply, straighten my shoulders. Now in my mind I’m thirty, celebrating my tenth anniversary with Aaron in New York City. We’re exploring the city, sight-seeing like the tourists we are, gawking at Times Square and the Statue of Liberty, and I can walk without having to stop and slow down, without running out of breath. This is why I’m on the treadmill today – so that by July, I’ll be stronger, have more stamina – I’ll be able to enjoy walking with my husband.
I’m present.
I’m twenty-nine, and I’m on the treadmill at the Y, surrounded by fat people, thin people, old people, young people. It’s peaceful. I’m getting stronger every day.
OotD: Two for the price of one!
Aaron and I went out on a date to see the Cleveland Orchestra perform this weekend (Rachmaninoff’s 2nd piano concerto, you guys, and it was AMAZING – seriously, the pianist was this dorky little man with poor posture and a bolero tie, but my stars could he PLAY – teaching me once again not to judge people based on appearances), and, as one might expect, we wore clothes:
The outfit I wore wasn’t terribly inspired, but my lands, did my husband look sharp. I cannot resist a man in a sweater vest, y’all.
I revisited the victory rolls and was only halfway successful – the left side turned out perfect; the right side ended up being more bobby pin than hair – BUT!, please note that they are New And Improved – Now with 100% Less Brown and Gray Roots!
Sweater and pants – Lane Bryant. Shoes – Target. Purse – Old Navy, circa 1996 (I carried it to homecoming my junior year of high school). Aaron’s shirt and vest are from Old Navy. Dead grass is courtesy of dreary northeast Ohio, where it is always winter and never Christmas.
