I’m going to start telling people I work three jobs. Cuz ultimately, I do: my day job, Honey’s photography gigs and assistant, and side work, like I did all weekend. I am a ridiculously busy and tired woman. Somewhere in there I need to find time for me, to eat well and exercise a bit.
I had something of an epiphany last night – I’m in the very unique and enviable position of having a man who loves me for exactly who I am, not the body I live in, not the money I can bring to the table, not contacts, connections, or any of that nonsense; just for me. I could weigh 100lbs or 400lbs; it wouldn’t make a difference. I could go bald, lose a limb, become blind, deaf, or severely disabled, and he’d love me just the same. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how lucky I am, and how I don’t know anyone else who can say that. Honey supports me, whether I want to work out or not, have a career or specialize in doing nothing, play Suzie Housekeeper or keep it to the bare essentials of sex and laundry. As long as I am happy and it doesn’t hurt me, he’s happy. I should be the happiest woman in the world…and I will be more often, as soon as I get my own head out of the way.
We went out with friends the other night, most of them the fit skinny types, and though everyone accepts me just as I am, I start comparing me to them and (of course) coming up short. It’s a neurotic thing I need to squelch ASAP. But having thought about it for two days, I’ve realized several things: 1.) I won’t ever be them – my body isn’t built to be a size 4 no matter what I do, 2.) that’s a good thing, because curves are rare these days, 3.) like Connie and Carla said, “tall, short, skinny, or fat – worship that body! It’s the only one you’ve got.” 4.) and maybe most important, I need to love me no matter how I am, cuz hating myself won’t be solved by changing dress sizes. The other thing I realized is that no matter how great this new HCG stuff sounds (who wouldn’t wanna drop 40lbs in a month?) I don’t want to count calories (500 a day? Seriously??). It’s also right in there with diet pills, fad diets, and surgery – I think that’s cheating. I don’t grudge anyone who has success for however long with them, I just don’t think that’s a permanent solution or requires much effort, and in the case of surgery, it’s very extreme and not bloody fair. I love to eat and don’t believe making food the enemy is a solution for weight problems. All bodies are not the same, yadda yadda, etc, etc. My opinions only, take them as you will. Anyway, at one point I was really excited [about HCG]; now my inner hippie and wanna-be naturalist is stomping her foot, telling me how much better I’ll feel and better the results will be if I do this on my own, just for me, and for the right reasons (i.e. health and energy instead of crushing vanity). My inner me has a point, as she often does when her head is screwed on straight. Another important thing, one that should keep the neurotics down to a minimum, is it’s not a race and it won’t happen overnight. I’ve lived most of my life carrying more weight than I’d have preferred and all of the best stuff, the best stories, and crazy adventures have happened just the same. Happiness will not be found on a bathroom scale for me, so I can just let that one go, don’t you think?
So if I can get all this wonderfulness to stick in my stubborn ass brain for more than a day, I should be fine – no, not fine (remember the Italian Job and the definition of ‘Freaked out Insecure Neurotic Emotional’?) I’ll be alright, relatively normal, less psychotic than usual, even-keeled, and so forth.
I've got work in another 30 minutes, so I think a few minutes of well-deserved 'nothing' is in order. Luvs.