My body of work continues… |
I grew up in California. Southern California. Huntington Beach to be exact. Land of sun, surf, surfers and beautiful people. Beautiful bodies. Or what my subconscious and the world around me considered beautiful. How unfortunate that our culture then, as now, has such a narrow image of what beauty should look like.
Let’s just say that I did not fit that image. Not as a child, subteen, teenager, early twenty-something. I remember the tender years when boys, no zits, having a “perfect” body and being popular was the most important thing in the world. I used to wish that I would turn 18 and suddenly, I would be pretty and thin. I would fit in. Belong in that sunny, beachy, bikini-ready postcard of a life. I began planning for that event by going on my first “diet” somewhere between the ages of nine and twelve. Sure, I was successful. Many, many times. Those were the days long before real fitness or being in shape was more than just being thin. Before anyone ever heard of an aerobics shoe. You did a few calisthenics, situps, and ate very few calories and, voila, you were thin. For about a day and a half.
Around the age of 20, I went on my most “successful” diet–one meal a day. After a month or so I was much smaller. My shape was no different–just smaller. But suddenly, I was getting much more attention. Not really the kind of attention I would welcome now. Heck, my boyfriend of the time said I looked like a Playboy bunny. What a loser!!! And I bought into it. I kept buying into it until my husband and I became a couple at the ripe old age of 22. From then on, impressing boys was a thing of the past. What took it’s place? Well, for one I remember a comment from a co-worker, “When are you due?” She thought I was pregnant!!! I never enjoyed sniping back at someone as much as I did then–”I’m not expecting–I’m just fat!!!” She was embarrassed and I went on another “diet”. Another successful diet. Followed by more successful weight gain.
The only time I ever lost weight healthfully was around seven years ago. The weight loss was accompanied by a lot of muscle gain. I worked out regularly, doing cardio, weights and various flexibility training. I ate reasonably and nutritiously with plenty of fiber, water, fruits and vegetables and lean protein. You know the routine. I looked great and felt great. My fitness routine was a priority, as much as bathing and brushing my teeth. The difference is I kept bathing and brushing my teeth. Somewhere along the way eating reasonably and working out stopped being a necessity. I could say it was a change of jobs or change of life, but underneath it all it was really a change of heart. My heart just wasn’t in it anymore. Because the reason I was doing it was to look good on the outside. I really hadn’t internalized that looking good on the outside has much more to do with feeling good on the inside. And I just didn’t care enough about myself underneath the surface to keep my priorities straight.
I’ve considered all the possible reasons I “fell off the fitness wagon” throughout my life: a bigger body kept me safe from too much male attention, my innate laziness got the best of me, fast food and TV are a lot more fun than slow food and fast exercise. I do remember sneaking BBQ potato chips under my bedcovers and reading by flashlight and not wanting to be discovered. I just don’t remember why.
Well, here goes. Why I didn’t keep the weight off doesn’t really matter. Not now. What does matter is that now this is it…Being at my best weight just feels good. If I feel good I look better. And isn’t feeling good and looking better something I should give myself, no one else. So I can in turn give my best to everyone else. ‘Nuff said!
