Friday, September 29, 2006

Freeform Morning Thoughts.

Warning: This may get a bit rambly, but I'm just going where my subconscious will lead me today.

This month has been a little different to my usual cravings routine. Normally I want chocolate and cheese. This last week has been about eating meat, in particular sandwich meats like salami and ham, and drinking chocolate Nesquik. Nesquik I normally find far too sweet with that weird underlying saltiness factor going on. In other words I don't like it. I much prefer Milo or cocoa. But for five out of the previous six days I've had to have it. Odd, huh?

The last six days since going back to intuitive eating I've averaged (after exercise) 48g fat and 1920 cals. That would be 22.49% fat. Indeed it is a little higher than I would like, but considering it's a pre-menstrual week, not too bad at all. Not bad at all considering I've maintained this week. Yes, a PMS week with all that bloating! Extra bloating than normal thanks in part to the reduced fat salami I've been eating. A maintain. So that means next week there should be a pretty good downward swing on the scales. I know the scales aren't important, but this week it is a good thing. My clothes are fitting tighter thanks to the bloating, so there's no judge of progress there. But the scales are maintaining on a period week. For me that's huge.

It's been fascinating being able to eat what I want as I want it, and I find I don't eat as much as I would of something than if I knew that I was 'on a diet'.

I know I shouldn't be surprised by this as I've tried this experiment many times before, but somehow it still surprises me. Isn't that sad? I'm surprised that by eating healthily and naturally of what my body wishes to eat that I will head towards a healthy bodyweight. Shit, marketing gurus and society in general have a lot to answer for!

How did we get from a society where only the rich showed their curves due to the fact they could afford enough to eat and be plump, to where they show their affluence by not eating and show the world just how plastic and Barbie-like they can make themselves. Yes, even the men too.

How did we become a society that reveres the thin and ridicules the healthy? I don't honestly know. But it scares the hell out of me. I remember what my childhood was like, and the pressure was nowhere near as intense as it is now, and will be for any children my husband and I eventually have. Not just because it was thirty years ago that I was born, but because I also wasn't living in the heart of the same town as the Plastic Fantastics. A small concern I know, in light of all the current situations going on worldwide, but it's still a concern for me. People with a healthy self image tend to ask that one question, or hesitate the little fraction necessary to prevent them from doing really stupid things. I can think of so many things I did as a teenager and young adult that I perhaps wouldn't have done if I'd had the self-respect and inner fortitude to realise I deserved better than that.
{shrugs} Then again, maybe the negative experiences were necessary to fully appreciate the positive ones that have come afterwards.

I took my athletic build and body for granted. In fact I even loathed it at the time because it wasn't thin like the other girls in my peer group. Funny thing is, looking back at school photographs we were pretty much all similar in build. Some taller and thinner than others, some shorter and a little thicker. But pretty much all were vibrant, healthy, young things. It was my own self image distortion that was preventing me from seeing it at the time. My own hatred of developing curves and breasts instead of the comfortable and familiar gymnastic model I'd sported my whole life until then.

Two decades of loathing for anything feminine, especially in regards to myself. Sneering at girly-girls because of 'wasting' their time with beauty routines... but secretly being jealous and mystified by just how they accomplished all that they did with those feminine touches. Two decades of loathing my period for reminding me every month that I was no longer the carefree tomboy like I wanted to be always. Realising that I was never going to be able to compete with the boys at everything.

And you know what? I finally realised that's okay. Boys aren't better at everything either. They can't bear children or breastfeed no matter how much they'd like to be able to. They can't multi-task as well as women. And they certainly aren't as good at expressing their emotions, usually. (Yes people, I know these are generalisations, but generalisations do tend to be made for a reason.)

And the number one reason I finally decided it might just be okay to be a woman? Well, there'd be a tie for number one. Chocolate is pretty awesome stuff and bears mentioning. But the thing that may just touch that out, and definitely would if it was as readily come by as chocolate, is multiple orgasms. Or not even multiple, but several in succession, doesn't have to be piled up on top of one another, I'm not fussy. LOL I don't remember when my husband first said when it first happened, or indeed even when it did happen that first time, but I'll always remember that wistful look on his face when I explained to him what had just occurred. Isn't it funny how the mind works? I don't remember the actual occurrence too well, but I remember with great clarity realising that even though it may be easier for a man to achieve an orgasm, this was the one place that he couldn't follow. And that for a kid who'd had to tag along after nine older male cousins for so very long, seeing them be better than her at just about everything, was a very fulfilling moment indeed.

Maybe, just maybe I really am ready to start loving my true self. To accept my life as a woman. A strong healthy child I was, but now I'm ready to be a strong healthy woman. My sister-in-law does not ovulate. Maybe instead of hating my period for interrupting the perceived perfect life I had as a child, I should be grateful that I at least have the possibility of becoming pregnant naturally. A chance that she and many other women like her never even had. Resenting a bodily function that inconveniences me once a month seems ludicrous in the face of something like that.

I'll be thirty next month. I believe it's high time that I finally grow up and love the woman I am, instead of being jealous of the child that I was. My mirror shows me just how I perceived what being a woman entails. Fat, unfit, unathletic and unhealthy. All of those things I remember feeling when I realised as a child that yes in fact nature did apply to me, and guess what? I was a girl, and having breasts and a period had not only happened, but was inevitable. Now that I am all of those things I perceived myself to be at the age of ten. Yes, ten years old! My poor mother and father could never work out why their daughter all of a sudden thought she was hideous and fat. They'd done everything possible to ensure that she had a healthy outlook, strong body, and healthy lifestyle. Yet all it took was one stray thought to blast that carefully and lovingly built scaffolding into so much dust. So fleeting had been that original thought, that I hadn't even remembered it clearly until now. I did it to myself. I opened the crack that all the other crap used as a foothold to breach my self esteem and lay waste to my self respect. To enable me to become the morbidly obese woman you see before you today.

But you know what? I started it, so I can finish it. Over the past couple of months I've been working hard at understanding why I'm obese. I've worked hard at ferreting out and forgiving, or if not forgiving, at least recognising and dealing with, all the major instances that have helped contribute to my problems. I've made incredible leaps and bounds along the way.

But this?

Actually forgive myself now that I know I started the whole thing?

I don't know how long that will take. I don't yet know how I'll achieve that. I've long had the suspicion that it will be on the day that I finally regain enough fitness to be able to complete the combination of: roundoff, back handspring, back somersault. Yet again, it may not. It may come long before that. I don't know. But that's the fun of this I've discovered. It's about the journey, the destination isn't everything. And I'm determined to enjoy each and every day. And each and every day find something to be thankful for about being a woman. About being Me.

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