Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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0 Comments:Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Friday, June 20, 2003 WARNINGThe following post is all about dieting and may have unexpected side effects. Do not read this if you are: Not interested Have intellectual tendencies Thought I had a healthy outlook on things Were secretly in love with me Don’t understand what all the fuss is about Were brought up better than that Believe nice people don’t talk about it So. Why is it that our emotions are so tied to our body image? This is especially true for women, though I suspect there are plenty of men who cringe when certain things disappear forever. It may be a hairline instead of a waistline, or toes instead of jawbone, but I wouldn’t be surprised if guys suffer their own style of squirming as these body parts fade with time. But this endless yearning for thinness and fashionable style seems so unfair. Worse yet, I doubt there is an American woman alive who can realistically assess her own body. A perfect example: Why does _____ lbs. feel fat when your weight is going up and feel positively skinny when it is going down? Another example: Why would you dance out of the store on top of the world if the size _____ fit, yet look for the nearest bridge if you had to buy the size _____+? Especially if you had to wear either purchase at the wedding on Saturday? Final example: Why is it that when I look at other people, if they are slim where I am heavy I think they are slim all over? My slender, but hippy, girlfriend is constantly telling me “Bess! you’ve lost weight!”. This - as I’ve watched the needle leaning ever further to the right side of the dial! There are those who claim it is advertising that pushes the wacked out body images. Victoria’s Secret (which I hate sometimes, but can’t wait to be small enough to shop in) is the only fun lingerie shop available at any mall. The biggest size they carry is teensy. Playtex refuses to put models of zaftig women in their adds, even in magazines that cater to the 19th century sort. In Terry Poulton’s book No Fat Chicks: How big business profits making women hate their bodies--how to fight back, she states they claim that surveys (?!? nobody ever asked me!!) show that even fat women don’t like to look at fat women - and prefer to pretend that they will look like the FashionModel if they only buy _____’s product. And many advertisers refuse to run in rags dedicated to big women. They don’t want to be associated with the un-beautiful, un-wanted un-slim. So magazines like Mode fold and images of fleshy bodies slip back under the rock. Of course, media sells lots of other ideas that twist the psyche. I remember when I realized that I dressed a certain way not because I liked it, but because I thought it looked sexy - a look I desired greatly since I was full of raging hormones. Funny, how these realizations hit you, for I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I suddenly wondered “Is this really sexy or just vulgar?” And I couldn’t honestly answer. I only knew that I had accepted the idea that it was alluring simply because it conformed to an image in a magazine. In all honesty, I must admit that at that time I was in a committed relationship and had an outlet for the chemistry and suddenly didn’t want to attract more. But I also felt betrayed by the media. Duped. Left hanging out like a specimen. I guess that means it was probably vulgar. But does this mean obedience is what drives us? Is conformaty something we seek so we feel safe? Loved? Is it left over from years of childhood trying to please parents, even ones who made only perfecty normal loving demands? Are we fated to have the level of our happiness determined by others? LittleDarling says the only happy people he knows are people who don’t watch television. All the rest are dissatisfied with themselves and even if they have their happy moments, they are only on vacation from their normal state of dissatisfaction. Of course, he was raised by me, and without TV, so he’s heard the party line for 27 years. And he is a guy. And he’s 27 so, what the heck, he isn’t worried about hairlines or bellies yet. Yet, for all my seeming bitterness, I am dieting. I am aiming for that golden ring of sleek tiny-ness once again. I’ve been following, obediently, the Weight Watchers regime and finding it does feel good. And I ask myself “why haven’t I always eaten like this?” There isn’t anything new in the information they provide. No one who has struggled with weight her whole life is ignorant of the science of it. In fact, I’ve always known how to eat healthy food and portions - I just haven’t always done it. What WW offers me is a parent who checks up on my homework. And it is working and I am losing weight and I am feeling better - in the main. So why this diatribe? Eh. Well, you guessed it. Yesterday I slid over the protective limits of quantity. I had pizza for lunch and have been feeling just so grumpy since. I could feel the chemistry change in my body after nearly a month of low fat, low sugar eating. It was immediate and it was really crummy. And though the pizza didn’t push me over the daily limit, dinner did, for I insisted upon the sweet ending that notched up the numbers. So I am feeling guilty and bad for not having the discipline to eat with honesty, but instead, childishly insisting upon what I want because I want it. And knowing it is stupid to feel bad. And knowing it’s not the end of the world, or even the end of the diet. But feeling assailed by doubts of my future success and regret for lost perfection. Heh. So. What better way to get rid of the bad stuff than by posting it here, where I can deposit it and go on, blithely forgetting it ever happened, or else, thinking it happened to someone else since it always feels like I’m reading someone else’s blog when I proof read mine. There. I feel better already. Yep Yep. ALWAYS burden your friends with your troubles. They won’t (or should not) make it their burden, but will toss your miserable doubts in the garbage where they belong. But each time they hear your fears, they carry some of your unhappiness away with them. It’s at least a win/not-lose solution to the problem of doubt, gloom, and worry. So that is the E. In an E.N.F.P. Can't fix it alone, But need 2 or 3 Still, I ought to thank those who’ve lightened my burden. so Thank you.posted by Bess | 8:12 AM |
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