appetite4destruction

I’ve been trying to compose an opening line, but there just doesn’t seem to be any clear way to start. Lately, we’ve explored a lot of family issues. My sisters’ impending arrival looms large because *this time* I want at least one thing to be different: ME.

And I’m not talking about my weight. Yeah, sure, I’ve lost 1/3 of my body weight since last I saw them. But I’m talking about the things I’ve gained.

There are several classes I’ve wanted to take. For years, I’ve considered signing up. But, I declined for one reason or the next. This year, I’ve decided to sign up.

So, I will be taking a few bellydancing & burlesque classes this summer, at the end of which, I will perform (LIVE!) on stage… assumedly dressing down to my skivvies!! :-S lol

Any other year, I would have said “no, I can’t take these classes this year because they happen during my sisters’ visit, & I either don’t want to take away from them OR I don’t want to put myself out in a way that lets my sisters know my interests”. I’ve always put my sisters’ needs before mine. And, since childhood, I’ve tried very hard to never give them any information about me in fear that they would use that information against me.

This year, however, I have changed. I have needs. I have desires. And these take precedence over my sisters *even when* my sisters are only here for a limited amount of time & the things I’d like to do will happen again later. My needs & desires also exist *despite* whatever my sisters want to think, say, or do about them. And, I will not ignore them any longer.

Even though they frighten me.

Tonight is my first class. It will be me and a roomful of professional burlesque dancers. As you might imagine, this scenario causes me a bit of stress. As I nervously push myself to do the things I long to do but fear; as I awkwardly try to navigate this formerly stagnant body of mine I sometimes do not recognize; as I meet new & beautiful & seemingly confident people hoping that I do not reveal myself as the dork I fear I am, I do these things knowing that this is how I break new ground.

I have to force myself into the new world ~~ into a new way of being ~~ so that I can live the way I want to live.

And I do these things despite my sisters, despite my family, despite society, despite myself. I do these things because they are my next first steps.   

Posted on May 20th, 2009 by lanvin
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Lately, I’ve been trying to view myself with a compassionate eye. I try to see myself as my husband sees me: pretty, cute, beautiful, & sexy. I try to view myself as if I was looking at a stranger; what would I see? Objectively, what I see is very different & significantly more pleasing to me than what I’ve historically told myself I am.

I’m starting to see my pretty features. And, I think this goes beyond the mere fact I’ve lost weight & thus I have less fat covering my features. Because, when I was thin, I couldn’t see my beauty.

Believing that one is pretty is more than just physically being able to distinguish bone structure from fat. Believing one is pretty requires a certain frame of mind.

When I was growing up, I wasn’t allowed to be pretty. Which isn’t to say I wasn’t pretty, or that people outside my family didn’t think I was pretty. I’m simply saying that my family doled out characteristics as if each child could only be or have one thing; there wasn’t enough “pretty” to go around, so my sisters had to share a piece & I, as the older & more mature one, had to suck it up & go without.

This parsing of talents & gifts extended to everything: art, sports, intelligence… EVERYTHING.

Since I was the oldest, I usually experienced a certain talent or characteristic first. But, when one of my sisters wanted to experience it, my parents instructed me to “hand it over”. I could no longer participate in sports because one wanted that; I was no longer considered the smart & creative child when another sister wanted that.

As an adult, I’ve had to reclaim the characteristics I let go throughout my childhood. I had to enroll in community college & see myself through Honors programs & a law degree before I could accept that I am, in fact, smart. I had to try out for roller derby, climb mountains in Alaska, & take almost every exercise class under the sun before I could accept I am athletic.

I’m not certain what all it will take before I can believe that I am pretty. But, today, for the first time in my life (perhaps?), I looked into the mirror & thought to myself, “wow, I’m actually kinda stunning”. :-D

Of course, I don’t mean this in a bad way; I think it is good that we think of ourselves in positive ways ~~ much like we typically think of everyone else we encounter throughout our days!!! Why is that we will automatically judge a stranger as beautiful, but not ourselves? Sure, we see our “flaws” & have had time to examine every “fault” and change.

But what would happen if we gave ourselves a fair shake? A fresh, new start?

Would we see a person with beautiful eyes? A smooth complexion? A nice, round face? Would we wish we had his or her kinda crooked smile, interesting lines, or sexy greying hair?

What if we had never heard the bad things people said about or to us? The things we said, repeatedly, to ourselves?

What would we do? What would we think? What could no one possibly persuade us not to try? 

I’m inches away from accepting myself as pretty. And it is a process that requires more than losing pounds. It is a process about changing the way I view myself. I’m not sure what steps it will take for me to get there. But, everything I do along those lines will, I believe, require more of me accepting myself as beautiful by doing things that make me feel as if I’m beautiful.

Inside & out. They work together.

Posted on May 7th, 2009 by lanvin
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In one of my favorite movies, “Auntie Mame”, the lead character frustratingly tells her dowdy secretary, Agnes Gooch, to break free from her constricted wallflower role & to “live! live!”. After a night of drunken debauchery, the secretary returns home utterly frazzled. She pulls up her dress & climbs the stairs to Auntie Mame’s bedchambers to seek the answer to the question: What precisely should one do *after* they’ve decided to live?

That’s where I feel I am. I decided to live, & now I gotta find out what happens next.

Every day, I see a reflection of myself that I enjoy. Sure, I have a ways to go before I feel I’m done getting my body into shape. But, already, I feel I’m living a “normal life”.

People no longer give me disapproving stares when I order food or try to sit next to someone on a bus. I can be seated at any reasonably sized place without fear that I won’t fit or that I’ll need an extended seatbelt. I can shop at the high end but still within regular sized stores ~~ & I can buy not just accessories, but actual clothes! I think this is how most average-sized people live.

Additionally, I’ve taken a few steps to make myself stand out a bit. I wear bright clothes. I’ve dyed my hair pink. I smile A LOT. I’ve made friends with a fun crowd. Auntie Mame would agree that I’m living, I’m living!

So, what do I do next?

For instance, if we’ve already established that my family hurts me & won’t change. Maybe the logical solution resides with me.

We always say to ourselves & others that we have to lose weight just for us. But what does that mean?

I think it means that we each decide our own “right way” to eat, move, breathe, sleep, laugh, & live. Once we have decided that, we enact those choices ~ daily (ideally); regularly (more realistically).

Occasionally, some people (ahem! we all know who… ;-P ) will try to bring us down. They will use whatever they can to do so. But if we’ve already decided that we know what’s best for us & we are working on those goals as best we can, then what really can they do to assail or stop us?

After Agnes Gooch’s night of living, she ends up pregnant. Maybe things didn’t go the way she anticipated or would have even wanted. But, when we next see Agnes, she is beautiful. She’s eating well, dressing smartly, doing her hair & makeup in a way that enhances her beauty almost naturally, & has surrounded herself with loving friends ~~ her new family.

A family of jerks at Auntie Mame’s party judges her poorly. Agnes begins to cry. But her new family steps in to comfort her, & we see that, *really*, the family of jerks cannot hurt her. Agnes knows who she is. She knows she is doing all she can to live well. She knows she is loved.

So, she returns to living her life as well as she can. At least, we assume she does; the movie isn’t really about Agnes, so we don’t know for sure what she does. But that is what this Agnes will do.

Since I’ve started my journey from out of shape to fairly fit, I’ve discovered certain things that work for me. I like to eat three times each day. Sometimes I eat a snack. I like to vigorously exercise my body for at least two hours each week. I like some of that time to be spent outdoors, but if not, then I like to get at least an hours walk in each week out of doors. I like to get at least 7 hours of sleep each night. If I don’t, I like to take naps. I like alone time. I like time with my husband & friends. I like time laying around with my cats, especially when I can listen to them purr. I like surrounding myself with beautiful things. I like creating. I like creating everything from dresses to messes! I like dressing up. I like dressing down. Anything in between makes me feel like a shlub. I go to the store once a week, & get pretty much the same thing as the week prior. I like the consistency, but I also am not afraid to veer off track & throw in a chocolate every now & again.

These are the things I find I need every week to feel good. They don’t have anything to do with my family. That list exists exclusively to serve my needs. If I follow it, it does no one else any good, except in so far as a healthy & happy me effects other people. 

But an interesting effect, too… *I think*… will be that, if I follow it, I will be following the “rules” I’ve discovered work for me. And, once I’ve done what works for me, it doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks or says. Also, I’ve discovered, the people who really love me, also support me.

So, while I’m not holding my breath on this, & while I don’t expect my family to behave differently “this time”, I do think there is an element of bravery I must enact while they’re here. I do think I must behave in ways that work for me.

This means, I cannot slip into my [OLD & REJECTED] “role” of being their ever-loving, never complaining, always accommodating “mommy”. I must stand up as ME, for ME, & be ME.

Let the chips fall where they may. The Gooch has decided to live. And I know what to do next.            

Posted on April 29th, 2009 by lanvin
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Sometime during the past week or so, I ran out of clean clothes. Which isn’t to say I ran around town naked; I just had to reach into the depths of my closet to find ANYTHING I could wear in public without either getting cited for indecency or assumed to be an escapee from an insane asylum.

I absolutely hated what I found.

BLACK, BLACK, BLACK, BLACK, BLACK, BLACK, BLACK, BLACK… (you get the picture?)

 I used to LOVE wearing black! Tops, bottoms, dresses, skirts, shoes, & tights = ALL BLACK. For a dash of what I mistook for color, I’d cover my black dress with a grey cardigan. That’s what I had to wear Friday.

And, although, I took extra care to look my best, I felt as if I was receding. All the effort I’ve made in the past year to be more “ME” could hardly withstand the nothingness that comes from wearing black.

Why is that we accept, as a culture, that we can’t stand out? When I really look at people in the streets, I see that as we age, our use of color diminishes greatly.

Young kids wear color EVERYWHERE, in all sorts of brilliant & amazing combinations. Parents roll their eyes at Little Jimmy or Jane’s lack of “sense” or ”style”, & then force them to wear something “respectable” either at certain events or as they age. By the time Jimmy & Jane are teens, they’ll wear a colorful tee, but cover it with a less colorful hoodie. By the time they reach adulthood, Jimmy & Jane can hardly be distinguished from their peers; each one of whom is “stylishly” dressed in either blue, black, grey, white, or tan.  

Are we really just born so that, by - what, age 25 (?) we can no longer stand out in a crowd?

Nowadays (when I do my laundry, that is), I wear a messload of color. Every time I leave the house, someone - a stranger - will talk to me. They will tell me that (1) they love something I’m wearing; (2) I look good/happy/pretty/cute; (3) they wish they had the courage to look as I do. When people see me, they smile. Kids will gasp & say, “mom! look at her!”. Then they smile.

This universal positive reaction seems to indicate a mutual understanding that color excites our minds, hearts, and our abilities to relate to each other as human beings. People want to interact with people who wear color because it brings out an ability to feel joy. Something, I believe, our typical societal interactions diminishes.

From my perspective, it seems to me, that this diminishment of joy results in our frustrated attempts to find happiness in something else: shopping, food, tv, video games, partying, putting other people down, you name it. Whatever makes us feel like we exist for a moment. That we can connect with someone else, at least about “X”. 

Whatever we try, it won’t help because what we really want is that freedom to exist in the world with other human beings who are experiencing joy. I think that’s why kids are practically idolized in our world: because they have it… at least until we beat it out of them.  

I’m rebelling BIG TIME against the belief that I have to “fit in”. When I dress, I channel my inner child & let her pick out what I’m going to wear each day. She rarely chooses black. Sometimes, what she chooses makes the adult me feel a bit like a mentally challenged adult, so I encourage her to rethink her choices. In the end, I always come up with an outfit that makes me — & everyone I meet throughout my day — happy.

Though, quite honestly, I’ve never run into the people from “What Not to Wear”. I’m sure they’d have something snarky to say about my clothes. But, like food or anything else we try to use to make us feel better, the thrill they’d get from putting me down wouldn’t last nearly as long as the feeling of happiness I share with the kids in the store who gasp & say “ooooohhhhh!!!” as I walk by, smile, nod, & wave “hi”

Posted on April 20th, 2009 by lanvin
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On the road to gaining my weight, I rarely wore makeup or did anything to my hair.

At some point, at my largest weight, I started to wear my hair my plaits, twisted around my head like a little Dutch girl. I thought it was a cute look. It was also easy.

After losing some weight, I started wearing makeup. Just a bit at first, but then I branched out into colors & sparkles. I even wore colorful fake eyelashes once or twice.

Then, I dyed my hair hot pink with blue tips.

This past weekend, I … & I do mean “I”… chopped off a good ten inches! I woke up Easter Sunday morning, grabbed the scissors, initially made a few small cuts, & then: WHAM! I went for the gusto!

My hair is now all pink & above my shoulders. I feel light, free, fun, & playful. I’m wearing pretty hairclips & trying new styles. Something I hadn’t been able to do with my extra-long hair because it was too heavy.

I think it is really important for me to change the way I appear as I alter my shape. Every time I look into the mirror now, I see “ME” & I no longer see that “old me” ~~ the one who gave up, the one who was sad, the one I let down. 

The “ME” I see now is the ”ME” who can do things she sets her mind to. She *is* IMHO playful & fun & pretty darned cute! She makes me smile every time I see her.

And, every time I alter the way I appear, I feel more liberated to become whomever I want to be.

I’m not missing the “old me” or anything that got me to that point at all.     

Posted on April 15th, 2009 by lanvin
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