So it’s nearly the end of May. The month I had set aside to get to love my lardy arse. How well have I been doing? Well aside from the caressing my lovely body every morning in the shower, as if I’m advertising the shower gel on telly, I also started to take note of how I talked to myself about myself and let me tell you: I can be a real bitch to me, sometimes. How can I be nice as pie to others and so catty about myself? I don’t have a body as such, I’m just a bunch of flaws. Well now not so much. I have saddlebags and they are as personal to me as my eyebrows.
I still lavish my wobbly bits with the care they deserve and have become a little more accepting of them, although I still have bad days, I have to admit. I can walk naked around the house in front the Sous Chef with complete confidence, although I remain afraid of him catching a glimpse of my behind (lest he turn to stone) so it’s full frontal nudity only as yet but I’m working on it.
Now, this might make me a raging hypocrite (go ahead, judge) but while I’ve been addressing these body image issues, I’ve also been working on losing some extra pounds (even though I’m not overweight – yeah, I know) and amazingly I have lost a bit (I’m not saying how much, cos that’s not important. Suffice to say it’s more than 1lb but less then 10, so no worrying that I’m wasting away or anything, ok?)
I weighed myself recently and was a bit disappointed with seeing the same old numbers despite my efforts. I get really close to an arbitrary ‘wished-for’ number only to bounce back upwards sharply, having it snatched from my reach.
Then I thought: c’mon, this isn’t going to matter in a few week’s time. I realised I’ve become accustomed to seeing a certain number as a high one and yet I used to think of it as a low number. Heck, I was once MUCH heavier than that (September 2008). I wasn’t a worse person then, so why the worry? The only thing that’s changed is time. If today’s number is a ‘bad number’ today, why did I think good a month ago? What makes it so bad today?
So I’m just not gonna sweat this and just carry on as I’ve been doing. It’s not like I’m gaining weight, so I don’t have to change anything. Even if how much I weigh now turns out to be an absolute and I never get below it , I’ll just have to accept that my body has its reasons for not wanting to go under that, and what I want is not necessarily what is right or good for me.
I have to remember that in terms of health and body composition, I’m in pretty good shape. In terms of the fashion industry and media-perpetuated ideal of womanhood, I am not. But which of those two is the more important? Ok, we know the answer, so why does part of me still cling to the belief that fitting into the second category will make me happier, will complete my life or make it better somehow? It cannot be true. Beauty is too heavily influenced by the fickle moodswings of Fashion. Unlike clothing manufacturers and designers’ creations, body and shape cannot keep up with the rapid changes of fashion that pretends it’s version of ‘good’ is some universal truth (until the next big idea).
In the twenties, women were supposed to be flat-chested and have ironing-board type figures: no curves, no waist. In the forties, curves were back. In the fifties, curves were mandatory. In the seventies and eighties, slim was the thing but with some generosity up top. In the nineties you had to be ‘toned’ (what a word to use!). By the turn of the millenium you were supposed to be very thin (childlike, almost) and curves were sidelined again.
Also, let’s not forget that the art of airbrushing have put the standards into a whole new league. Even the photogenic classes who make their living by the camera cannot reach those standards anymore. (Mind you, image manipulation is nothing new. Photographers employed all sorts of tricks with lenses, lighting, shadows, angles and some dark-room techniques to create flawless movie stars – think of the soft-toned, flawless skin of the photos of Rita Hayworth and the like – photoshop just widens the palette of changes you can make).
And yet I cling to this idea that 10 stone is a superior me to one who weighs 11 stone. That’s quite a ridiculous notion when you think about it. A person is a complex bundle of different things. Weight is just a statistic that applies to the body part of me. There is baggage in there from my father (who openly thinks women should be slim and how dare they not be. As if women’s bodies are there for his delectation!). He’s not hidden his disapproval of my weight gain in the past (it’s been a reoccuring thing sincemy teens). In fact he admitted he thought I looked better in the days when I know I was recovering from anorexia and was borderline underweight – that fact alone should remind me he’s not worth taking notice of in this area).
Another part of me wonders whether conforming to an idealised womanly body (regardless of time/culture or the shape/size in question) is actually about social status. Women have a rank and part of that rank is linked to her physical attractiveness (this is also true for men, but I argue to a lesser extent). Women are judged, ranked and ordered (and controlled) by their appearance, be it face, hair style, body shape/size and how she dresses (being glamorous for example). These are ways we manipulate our social status. Being nearer to the ideal puts you in a higher rank than being further from it. Rank is not solely based on appearance but alpha females tend to be the more attractive in a group – this is especially true in high school, before careers, life choices and wealth can play too big a part.
If it is true, that appearance strongly influences social status, it would explain why women are so preoccupied with their appearance (turns out, it actually IS important) and why we’re so hierarchical about it (always comparing, always judging), and more concerned with our own bodies (your vehicle for status) than other people’s. Of course I don’t mind if my sister is 5 lbs heavier, I love her whatever she weighs. But she minds because it affects her status. My younger (slimmest, dancer’s body) sister certainly wields her body as an instrument of power over her less perfect siblings. It gives her a confidence over us. Considering she’s always been the baby, I am sure she particularly enjoys that sense of power now. She and my bigsis in particular have been competitive about their bodies. (I was always too fat to be part of the game, so it didn’t involve me at all – I’m both sore and glad about that).
What a funny world we live in. Women in particular
I still can’t quite get to grips with my body… I know I have a good shape and I’m lucky but I can still see the ‘real’ me under it all when I look in the mirror and can’t grasp the fact that this is the size I am…. You see, one of my friends is probably even a bit bigger than me, but she looks like she’s supposed to be that size, she’s not all wobble and dimples, it’s just her…whereas with me, you can see that it’s a thick layer of fat covering what should be a smaller body underneath. Does that even make sense?!
Comment by pinkjellybaby — 30 May, 2009 @ 11:01 am |
It makes perfect sense. There is more than one way to carry body fat. You can carry it in your organs (rather like foie gras) and you can carry it in your muscles (like a well-marbled steak) or you can carry it under the skin. This subcutaneous fat is the stuff that jiggles, the stuff that bulges over jeans or under bra straps. Women’s bodies tend to put it here more so than men’s (hence our predisposition to cellulite, even when not overweight). The fat that’s carried under the skin tends to make you look fatter than you actually are. The organ or muscle-bound fat is more invisible. Where you carry it is decided by hormones mostly.
There is a group of people (TOFI – Thin outside, fat inside) who look slim but have rather a high proportion of body fat (in muscles or organs) than you’d credit. Asians, despite their typical slimness often turn out to be TOFI. These people can be carrying unhealthy amounts of excess fat and not be showing it (and therefore not know to do anything about it and still be subject to all the health risks like diabetes). Of course, that’s small comfort when you just want to wear that nice top but not show bulges here and there. Bulges which our society so vehemently disapproves of.
If course, that’s not much comfort to the likes if us who don’t care WHERE it’s stored but want rid of it. Bear in mind though, that only now, looking back on your skinnier days, do you realise you had nothing to worry about. Is it such a leap to think you have nothing to worry about now but don’t know it? PJB, you are so so SO much more than your body. The bottle is not the wine, remember that.
Comment by anotherblogger — 1 June, 2009 @ 10:13 am |
Yeah, my friends doesn’t look like fat really, she looks like she’s supposed to be big while mine is obviously the ‘under skin’ kind!
I get what you mean that I only now realise what I had when I was younger…but I’m also realistic in that I KNOW I’m overweight and it’s not just me being silly about it but it’s also by no means the end of the world!….but thank you, that’s a lovely thing to say
Comment by pinkjellybaby — 1 June, 2009 @ 2:35 pm |