My body has been rebellious nowadays. It won't follow my command. It wants to be on its own, so one day, I followed my body. Wasn't there a statement that said, “your body is not you, you are not your body.” So then it tantamounts to “who am I?” But then again, all that philosophical jargon isn't always my cup of tea. I'll leave that to my hubby who thinks he's from Andromeda. Oh well!
So here I am aware that my body is not me. But then, how could it not be? Until I realized that your body is your vehicle in the physical world. That to me is real. And many a times we fall prey to that which they call 'coca cola' figure. And I ask, which one? 8 oz or family size?
We are so psyched up that a thin, flat bellied, curvaceous body is what we should have. Even the fashion models are getting thinner and malnourished nowadays. Thanks to media who portray women as such. And my take on that is - who would want to eat a meal and be served bones? Uh-uh, not me.
During my teens and onwards, I always took care of my body by eating well and doing a lot of exercise. But a few years after marriage, I decided to go with the flow. In my thoughts, why should I take care of my body when it's only my husband that will see it? And so I let go. But no matter how much I ate to my heart's content, I never gained weight. I didn't want to be thin which made me look malnourished. But others thought that I was lucky to have such genes. While others would gorge and soon showed results, I maintained my usual skinny self even if I stuffed myself to death.
I thought I was superwoman eating to her hearts delight and not gaining any weight, until one day I had a reality check. As I was trying on some clothes at a department store, I saw a woman in the mirror whose love handles were oozing from the sides. As my eyes gazed from her bulging belly, I could see a layer of folded fat which rested two independent mounds with protruding points that looked like nipples. As I scrutinized higher, the face that had seen better days seemed to look familiar. And as if in a dream I blurted out, “what have you done to Vanette?”
Depression would have come easily if I dwelt on it, but instead I giggled. I saw my belly vibrating everytime I chuckled. And the louder I Iaughed, the more my belly jiggled like jello. After that realization at the clothes store, I made a game plan. I did some gymn workouts; I tried belly dancing and I even tried zumba. But the harder I tried to get rid of those belly fat, the more I ate. Not good!
Then it just dawned on me that it is not the goal of being who you want to become, but it is the journey in getting there that counts. Somehow, I realized that how I spend my days is going to be how I will spend my life. The physical body is just a case that I use, to fulfill my functions as a human being, just like the brain is a vehicle that holds your thoughts. Did I want to subject it to a roller coaster of binging and excercising to balance what they call a healthy body?
At this point, I went into a spiritual recognition with my body. I befriended my body and listened to what it was saying. When it told me to run, I ran. And when it said stop, I stopped. When it told me to do yoga, I did. I heard the squeaks and squeals inside of me that manifested itself from years of depriving the right excercises. Whatever my body dictated, I followed and I have never been happier.
Even when it told me to binge on steaks, cakes and shakes, I did it as well. But there were times when my body also told me to go vegetarian/vegan, I obeyed like a lamb. My body became my best friend.
The billboards and advertisements that show skinny women to attract consumers are standards that men want to portray on women. It is these standards that makes women stress themselves out. I do not condone this way of thinking, yet I do not succumb to it just because everyone else does. I choose to be me. And what my body says to me is just what I will see when I come face to face with it in the mirror.
Borrowing words from Geneen Roth in her book Women, Food and God : “ Real change happens bit by bit. It takes great effort to become effortless in anything. There are no quick fixes.” So ladies, why the fuzz?
In ending I shall tell you a story. One day while visiting my granddaughters, Andrea came up to me and engaged in conversation:
Andrea: Lola, I know the “F” word that's bad.
Me: Really? Who told you?
Andra: Basta lola, I know it and I'm not even suppose to mention it.
Me: No you don't know, you're too young to even know what it means,
Andres: I know what it means and I'm not saying.
Me: Tell me!
Andrea: No! I wont
Me: Then you don't know it because you wont tell me
Andrea: Okay! (and looks around and starts to whisper) the F word lola is 'FAT'!
And mommy says it's a bad word.
And Andrea says it all!
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