Why do I care?

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

History repeating itself?

Kidsis is 23. We used to be really close  – she is 8 years younger than me and I have always felt a maternal bond with her. She can be difficult to get on with but I love her enormously. Despite this, I almost never hear from her.

Yesterday I got a phonecall, so I knew something was up. I could tell it wasn’t good when she started being evasive and wouldn’t spit out what it was “you can guess already” she weakly said. Well no actually. It could be you’re broke again, you’ve racked up huge debts, you’re going out with an octogenarian, you’ve got a part in a new production. I really don’t know.

It really hadn’t occurred to me that she might be pregnant again. The last time it had happened she was sure she didn’t want to keep it. Her boyfriend had told her he would stand by her no matter what she decided but I suspect he was more than a little bit sad that she decided she couldn’t keep it. She herself was 100% sure and was determined. I’ve never been in favour of abortion but I also don’t have it in me to condemn or blame women who choose it. It is as it is. Even bad things are necesssary sometimes.

This time, three years on, things are a little different. Let’s start with the father. He is 41 and I don’t know how long they’ve been together but I do know that when kidsis asked him whether he loved her (never a question to ask – you usually already know the answer) he said “I hardly know you”. Ok,  a) that is not the right answer and b) oh dear. This is not giving me the warm and fuzzies. 

She may be only 23 but I don’t think she is under any illusions about loving him. She told me she “likes him” and “could see a future with him” but there’a little more to it all than that from what I can gather.

The day she told him she was pregnant (she is three weeks at most) he starts jumping around in excitement because he’s always wanted children. That was when he started to lose touch a little. He told her that he does not want to raise his child in England – the modern West and what it offers has disillusioned him and so he wants to move to Africa. That’s the place to raise a child, he says. He wants to live somewher remote in Africa and fly tourists around in a microlite.

This sounds pretty great and romantic, right? I definitely think it’s something worth pursuing if it’s what he really wants to do but there is a snag. Kidsis is horrified at the idea of moving to Africa. She doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to raise her child(ren) there and is hoping to form a stage career in the west end, not be staying at home somewhere remote and living HIS dream.

The even bigger snag is he isn’t listening. He’s adamant this is where his child will be raised and her opinion seems secondary. She doesnt want to be 8000 miles away from her family and CERTAINLY not when she’s pregnant. She likes living in a world where there are supermarkets, hospitals, museums, galleries, shows etc. She’d have a job being happy in a village in Yorkshire, never mind bloody Africa!

Every reason she gives him for not wanting to go he dismisses. When she asked him what’s in it for her, what is she supposed to do in Africa, his response was “take control of your life” which is a bit rich when he’s the one doing the controlling.

If moving to Africa has been such a burning desire and life goal for him then why, at 41, has he not done it already? He has this dream of child and Africa and now that he discovered his 23 year old girlfriend is pregnant he wants to shoehorn the situation into his dream, ignoring her feelings on the matter. Every objection she puts up he rejects. In my opinion there is only one objection necessary: she doesn’t want to go.

For one thing, she has several precedents. I ran off to Indonesia at age 21 - look how that turned out.  Mum ran off to Germany also at age 21. there is definitely a pattern in our family.

We run away and go abroad to do it because that promise of new and exciting and exotic is a hundred times better than what is scaring us at home. Kid sis on the other hand does NOT want to run away. She feels her life and her chosen career are just at the beginning and going to Africa would mean throwing it all away.

I know I’m bitter and it’s my own personal feelings coming out. When I was with Tree, I once heard that he told somoene that he had married too young and he wanted to go out and experience life (at that time, I had a fair idea of the ‘life’ he was talking about, too) and I was furious. I  felt I had lost far far more than he had. I had given up EVERYTHING. I had no family, no social network, no career, I was stuck in a world that wasn’t of my making, I was a fish out of water much of the time and I was utterly dependent on him. I had no life, no sense of purpose. I was extremely disempowered because what we did and where we went and who we knew all revolved around him (that’s narcissists for you).

My kid sis has no reason to go to Africa other than to follow Mr 41. And what is she to do over there except follow his dream of microliting? If it were what she wanted, if it were her dream I’d support her. Despite my personal experiences, I’m still very much in favour of going to live abroad for some years just to be a fish out of water and to know yourself but in her case, it’d be against her better judgement. I’m angry at her man for dismissing her concerns and I’m FURIOUS at him for his “take control of your life” remark.

I’m not sure she’s told him that it’s not JUST about Africa. She hasn’t decided wether she’ll keep it or not. I hate that she can be so cold about it but ultimately it is her decision. It’s also awkward since the Sous Chef and I have been discussing the topic of children ourselves lately.

The long and the short of it is: I regret not having any children. I want to be a mother and I don’t know how well I’d take never being a parent. Something within me (and this is true since my teens) has felt I SHOULD have children. I always wanted three or more. The sous chef has known this for years, and I too have known his position:  he doesn’t want children. He also realises that saying “no and that’s the end of the matter” is not fair on me and leaves me in a difficult position. This is why he has never said anything so final but he has said “if we do have children it would be with great reluctance on my part”. Why? Well he gives a number of reasons: he feels he is too selfish, it would turn his life upside down too much, he is too old and can’t imagine having to work to support a child for the next 20+ years. He hates his job so much he wants to be able to jack it in. Children would mean he feels tied. He said if it weren’t for me and my studies, he’d have quit already and would be cycling South America or Canada or wherever. I was touched that he was putting his life on hold for me. But can I put my wants on hold for him?

It’s been on his mind and I know he has been privately exploring the notion of fatherhood and trying to imagine what it would be like. If anything, it has been on his mind more than mine but we love each other so much that neither of us can force onto the other our own wish. And it is this that has put us in this stale mate.

So when I hear about kid sis, I’m not sure what to feel. Big sis is, on the other hand, in a worse position to mine. She has been told by her man “definitely no” and at the same time has the honour of seeing him be an outstanding father every other weekend to his 8 and 10 yr old from a previous marriage. Big Sis is most definitely having her nose rubbed in it. She and her man are on a break since the issue seems irresolvable.  She does not know about kid sis and probably won’t unless kid sis decides to keep it. I’m not sure how she would take the news.

After two hours on the phone, kidsis has said she will have another talk with Mr. 41 but the last time they spoke about this yesterday they parted in anger.

At the moment by biggest concern is: what type of man is he to try to railroad his pregnant 23yr old girlfriend to emigrating to bloody Africa with him? HIS dream, HIS ambition, HIS better quality of life, but what about her?

comments and opinions are welcome