I will never be described as exotic or mysterious. I'll never be able to get a suntan without first having a sunburn. I'll never have a proportionate hip-to-waist ratio.
But I will always be able to shake it to those who do.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
August Disgust
I came across this today, and I have to say that I'm not entirely opposed to an August succession from the calendar. August just seems superfluous; an extra month of heat, oppressive humidity, and 31-day tease of crisp, leaf-changing existence.
But I couldn't help but think of my baby brother, who will welcome his 23rd year on Friday. My other brother and I celebrate our birthdays in April and October respectively. Each spring and fall, we would skip to school in our birthday duds, laden down with trays of whatever confectionery delight our mom whipped up. Our classmates would gather around, vying for the biggest, softest, and most well-frosted cupcake. We were the prince and princess of our classes for one day a year.
Meanwhile, our resident August Baby celebrated birthday after birthday with just our family. No classroom celebrations. No leftover cupcakes for the bus ride home. No hand-decorated cards from the entire second-grade class.
So maybe instead of ending the summer on a sticky and saturated note, we should celebrate the lazy, ethereal, and undying days. We should lounge poolside, drink in hand. We should sport sundresses and crisp linen shirts and strappy sandals. We should travel, and eat, and dance. And most importantly, we should overcompensate for our friends who never got to partake in classroom birthday celebrations.
Daisy summer pipers come to town
Piping people out of doors
To see the magic all around
Listen now you'll hear his sound
Stare into a mirror pool
And laugh so princely vain
The skies become kaleidoscopes
With no two turns the same
But I couldn't help but think of my baby brother, who will welcome his 23rd year on Friday. My other brother and I celebrate our birthdays in April and October respectively. Each spring and fall, we would skip to school in our birthday duds, laden down with trays of whatever confectionery delight our mom whipped up. Our classmates would gather around, vying for the biggest, softest, and most well-frosted cupcake. We were the prince and princess of our classes for one day a year.
Meanwhile, our resident August Baby celebrated birthday after birthday with just our family. No classroom celebrations. No leftover cupcakes for the bus ride home. No hand-decorated cards from the entire second-grade class.
So maybe instead of ending the summer on a sticky and saturated note, we should celebrate the lazy, ethereal, and undying days. We should lounge poolside, drink in hand. We should sport sundresses and crisp linen shirts and strappy sandals. We should travel, and eat, and dance. And most importantly, we should overcompensate for our friends who never got to partake in classroom birthday celebrations.
Daisy summer pipers come to town
Piping people out of doors
To see the magic all around
Listen now you'll hear his sound
Stare into a mirror pool
And laugh so princely vain
The skies become kaleidoscopes
With no two turns the same
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
And Then There Was One
Last week, my mom came into town for a few days to help me after I had some minor sinus surgery. She left on Sunday, and I haven't been the same since. Nashville has been my home for the past five years, but within the past few months it's gotten harder and harder to say goodbye to my family during our respective visits to each other. Just the mention of the word 'mom,' and I can hardly keep my eyes from welling with tears.
Sometimes I worry that my personal contentedness is too dependent on the influence of other people in my life. I find myself seeking validation, comfort, and assurance from my friends and family. This feeling is especially evident when I experience uncertainty. When I question my career, my relationships, my finances, I just want to lie down and be rescued.
But the thing about human beings is that they are not guarantees. I know that even if my mom lived next door to me, there are a million circumstances that could take her out of my life. I know that friendships often have an expiration date. I know that people change their minds. And more importantly, I know that I have to be OK with myself regardless of the people who are (or are not) around me.
It all comes down to reminding myself that I am strong, capable, and resourceful. That I am able to deal with adversities even if I was the only person in my life. And that even if I wake up with only myself for the rest of my life, I will be OK.
When I'm trying to outrun you
you won't leave me alone
When I need you to be with me
I end up on my own
Oh, I wish that I could move you
Faster, be still, or rewind
But it's a matter of time
Sometimes I worry that my personal contentedness is too dependent on the influence of other people in my life. I find myself seeking validation, comfort, and assurance from my friends and family. This feeling is especially evident when I experience uncertainty. When I question my career, my relationships, my finances, I just want to lie down and be rescued.
But the thing about human beings is that they are not guarantees. I know that even if my mom lived next door to me, there are a million circumstances that could take her out of my life. I know that friendships often have an expiration date. I know that people change their minds. And more importantly, I know that I have to be OK with myself regardless of the people who are (or are not) around me.
It all comes down to reminding myself that I am strong, capable, and resourceful. That I am able to deal with adversities even if I was the only person in my life. And that even if I wake up with only myself for the rest of my life, I will be OK.
When I'm trying to outrun you
you won't leave me alone
When I need you to be with me
I end up on my own
Oh, I wish that I could move you
Faster, be still, or rewind
But it's a matter of time
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Adam West
I slept through my 6AM alarm this morning and ended up rolling over to a clock that read 8:17.
Oh, hell.
So I raced around and somehow managed to be out the door in just under 30 minutes. I spent the short drive to my office chastising myself for being so hard on my body. I spent the rest of the day scrutinizing calories and gulping water to rehydrate.
I fell pretty hard this time. Last week I felt like I was an actress in the starting sequence of every Batman TV show from a few decades ago. I was zapping, kaplowing, and bamming my way through a bunch of gnarly situations. Then came the crash. The burn. The incineration. Getting back up is still causing me some issue, but I don't feel like I'm lacking in clarity right now. Just having trouble reaching the bootstraps.
I'm starting to wonder if maybe I'm going about all of this in the wrong way. For the past couple years, I have been trying to seek out every form of medium that relates to my present situation. I keep thinking that I'll get better if I can build up this army of books, songs, and movies that tell my story, that make me feel less insane. But I don't know that it's necessarily about that right now. I think that maybe it's about focusing on who I want to be, not swimming around in what I am or what I used to be. Maybe.
A thousand fires burn out of control
And no one's ever there
To see them
We're dyin of thirst our voice is lost
From all this screaming
I came down in a lonely state
And now everyone is leaving
Our souls so charred beyond recognition
And I'm trying to find the reason
Oh, hell.
So I raced around and somehow managed to be out the door in just under 30 minutes. I spent the short drive to my office chastising myself for being so hard on my body. I spent the rest of the day scrutinizing calories and gulping water to rehydrate.
I fell pretty hard this time. Last week I felt like I was an actress in the starting sequence of every Batman TV show from a few decades ago. I was zapping, kaplowing, and bamming my way through a bunch of gnarly situations. Then came the crash. The burn. The incineration. Getting back up is still causing me some issue, but I don't feel like I'm lacking in clarity right now. Just having trouble reaching the bootstraps.
I'm starting to wonder if maybe I'm going about all of this in the wrong way. For the past couple years, I have been trying to seek out every form of medium that relates to my present situation. I keep thinking that I'll get better if I can build up this army of books, songs, and movies that tell my story, that make me feel less insane. But I don't know that it's necessarily about that right now. I think that maybe it's about focusing on who I want to be, not swimming around in what I am or what I used to be. Maybe.
A thousand fires burn out of control
And no one's ever there
To see them
We're dyin of thirst our voice is lost
From all this screaming
I came down in a lonely state
And now everyone is leaving
Our souls so charred beyond recognition
And I'm trying to find the reason
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Small Victories
Who was able to check three major projects off her to-do list by noon?
That's right.
Me.
That's right.
Me.
Monday, July 7, 2008
You Know the One
I grabbed dinner with some friends tonight after work. Midway through the meal, I realized that I was counting the calories in practically every bite I was taking. I promptly put down my fork, took a deep breath, and waited for the feeling to pass, but it didn't ever really go away. I counted all the way home.
I think it is fair to say that the holidays are extraordinarily difficult for those who struggle with disordered eating. I think it’s an even safer bet to say that summer is like one long and steamy holiday. A holiday full of barbecues and beer and forced socialization in minimal amounts of clothing. Right now I’m just treading, trying to keep my head above water and not get pulled into the tide of Body Hatred and Lack of Self Esteem.
In a few days, I'm heading to Michigan for what is supposed to be an escape and a chance to catch a ball game. Instead, I'm worrying about how much weight I have gained since the last time I saw my family. My brother and sister-in-law have spent the bulk of their marriage on diets of some description or another. They yo-yo back and forth between sizes, and spend a great deal of time talking about losing weight. My sister-in-law has even gone so far as to post a countdown of sorts on her MySpace pages. My mother provides me with a weekly update on how much weight the family has lost or gained. And while I love seeing my family, and laughing with my brothers, and shopping with my mom, sometimes I just wish it were different. I wish my visits home weren't filled with such trepidation, and I wish I didn't feel scrutinized each time I walked through the door. I mostly wish I didn't have a "let'sjustgetthisoverwith" feeling every time I came home.
So, as much as I want to just give in and listen to that voice that tells me to makeup for all of the hot dogs and beer I've had in the past few days, I know I need to keep fighting the good fight. And that no matter how hard my mom stares at my waistline, it's still about me nurturing and taking care of myself. I think.
I am colorblind
coffee black and egg white
pull me out from inside
I am ready, I am ready, I am ready
I am taffy stuck and tongue tied
stutter shook and uptight
I am ready, I am ready, I am ready
I am fine
I am covered in skin
no one gets to come in
pull me out from inside
I am folded and unfolded, and unfolding
I am colorblind
coffee black and egg white
pull me out from inside
I am ready, I am ready, I am ready
I am fine
I think it is fair to say that the holidays are extraordinarily difficult for those who struggle with disordered eating. I think it’s an even safer bet to say that summer is like one long and steamy holiday. A holiday full of barbecues and beer and forced socialization in minimal amounts of clothing. Right now I’m just treading, trying to keep my head above water and not get pulled into the tide of Body Hatred and Lack of Self Esteem.
In a few days, I'm heading to Michigan for what is supposed to be an escape and a chance to catch a ball game. Instead, I'm worrying about how much weight I have gained since the last time I saw my family. My brother and sister-in-law have spent the bulk of their marriage on diets of some description or another. They yo-yo back and forth between sizes, and spend a great deal of time talking about losing weight. My sister-in-law has even gone so far as to post a countdown of sorts on her MySpace pages. My mother provides me with a weekly update on how much weight the family has lost or gained. And while I love seeing my family, and laughing with my brothers, and shopping with my mom, sometimes I just wish it were different. I wish my visits home weren't filled with such trepidation, and I wish I didn't feel scrutinized each time I walked through the door. I mostly wish I didn't have a "let'sjustgetthisoverwith" feeling every time I came home.
So, as much as I want to just give in and listen to that voice that tells me to makeup for all of the hot dogs and beer I've had in the past few days, I know I need to keep fighting the good fight. And that no matter how hard my mom stares at my waistline, it's still about me nurturing and taking care of myself. I think.
I am colorblind
coffee black and egg white
pull me out from inside
I am ready, I am ready, I am ready
I am taffy stuck and tongue tied
stutter shook and uptight
I am ready, I am ready, I am ready
I am fine
I am covered in skin
no one gets to come in
pull me out from inside
I am folded and unfolded, and unfolding
I am colorblind
coffee black and egg white
pull me out from inside
I am ready, I am ready, I am ready
I am fine
Monday, June 30, 2008
Living me Softly
I realized today, that as I was traipsing down the office hallway for the 72nd time, I was making this odd sigh/motorboat sound with my lips. And I thought to myself, "what the hell are you doing?" And I really had no answer.
I watched a movie this weekend with a fat, red-headed woman, who portrayed an overbearing and slightly psychotic mess of a boss to the movie's main character. She wore a lot of polka dots, ate jelly donuts, and carried on office banter in a shrill, earsplitting tone. The movie actually opened with an office celebration of her birthday party, and her little beady eyes glistened as she cut herself a Texas-sized piece of cake.
Really? Seriously? Is this material still funny and cool and trendy? Is the overbearing, overeating, overweighted, shrew of a woman still a necessary cinematic staple? Are we really still buying the mentality of the fat person's agony? Hiding sugary snacks, over-compensating for a bullied adolescence, wearing tentlike fabrics to hide abdominal fat? Really? I was annoyed before the plot was ever introduced.
Fat acceptance is something I struggle with, mostly because I can't seem to accept myself. At any size. It's been almost six months since I've had a bulimic episode, and I can't say that I feel any sense of accomplishment for it. I guess I just thought that if I stopped all of that behavior, I would just start losing weight. I thought the 'next step' would be so natural, that I wouldn't even realize it was happening.
What I seem to forget everytime is that this is not going to be an easy fix. In the past, when I wanted to lose weight, I would stop eating for days, weeks, or even months at a time. In the past, I could drop weight by starving myself and then having one big binge and purge session to work out my hunger. But my reality today is that those things have stopped working for me, emotionally and physically. Forcing my body to react to my actions just doesn't fulfill me any more.
That said, I have realized the only thing I can do at this point is be gentle with myself. Restricting, obsessing, forcing, overhauling; all these do is send me into a crash that takes me longer and longer to retreat from each time it happens. I want serenity. I want peace. I want to know that I am ok no matter what the tag on my pants says. And even as I read those words, I still can't quite convince myself that it's true.
I watched a movie this weekend with a fat, red-headed woman, who portrayed an overbearing and slightly psychotic mess of a boss to the movie's main character. She wore a lot of polka dots, ate jelly donuts, and carried on office banter in a shrill, earsplitting tone. The movie actually opened with an office celebration of her birthday party, and her little beady eyes glistened as she cut herself a Texas-sized piece of cake.
Really? Seriously? Is this material still funny and cool and trendy? Is the overbearing, overeating, overweighted, shrew of a woman still a necessary cinematic staple? Are we really still buying the mentality of the fat person's agony? Hiding sugary snacks, over-compensating for a bullied adolescence, wearing tentlike fabrics to hide abdominal fat? Really? I was annoyed before the plot was ever introduced.
Fat acceptance is something I struggle with, mostly because I can't seem to accept myself. At any size. It's been almost six months since I've had a bulimic episode, and I can't say that I feel any sense of accomplishment for it. I guess I just thought that if I stopped all of that behavior, I would just start losing weight. I thought the 'next step' would be so natural, that I wouldn't even realize it was happening.
What I seem to forget everytime is that this is not going to be an easy fix. In the past, when I wanted to lose weight, I would stop eating for days, weeks, or even months at a time. In the past, I could drop weight by starving myself and then having one big binge and purge session to work out my hunger. But my reality today is that those things have stopped working for me, emotionally and physically. Forcing my body to react to my actions just doesn't fulfill me any more.
That said, I have realized the only thing I can do at this point is be gentle with myself. Restricting, obsessing, forcing, overhauling; all these do is send me into a crash that takes me longer and longer to retreat from each time it happens. I want serenity. I want peace. I want to know that I am ok no matter what the tag on my pants says. And even as I read those words, I still can't quite convince myself that it's true.
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