Today, I tried on the fuchsia pink lacy short dress my
parents gifted me with for my recent birthday. As the great-granddaughter of a
tailor-talented seamstress, I was wise enough to put on the “right foundation garments.” (Y’know the best
things to wear underneath your clothes to smooth out and “make the most of what
you have.”) They helped. But they didn’t erase the extra curves I’ve acquired
since I’ve come home to help care for my dad.
These days it is often true: I experience muffintop moments.
As a woman who’s always warred with her weight, well, at
least since I was 11 or 12, I know - with a great deal of practice and intimacy
- the ways my body loses weight… and gains it. I know that exercise helps my body
and especially my brain…IF it’s exercise I enjoy, like dancing or late night
walks.
I know these things, so I truly don’t really need anyone -
no matter how authentically loving and “helpful” - to tell me more than once
about a new way to get healthy or say: “If you would just do… such and such,
you’d so and so…” Now, I say “more than
once,” because I am not closed off to people sharing things they think are
important or helpful. However, I do have a decent intellect and recall, so I
usually remember such things after being told once… and if I don’t, I’m
definitely comfortable with asking questions or seeking reminders. For those
who care and encourage and do not criticize (me or anyone)… may you have stars
added to your crowns. J
I say all this because in this current season, I’ve realized
losing weight is just not going to be the top priority. Therefore, while I
don’t want to gain any more (but I may), I’m also striving not to get all
uptight and bothered by the fact that my 42-year-old body doesn’t look like it
did when I was a teenager, or the last time I lost significant amounts of
weight (in 2008/9). And I’m certainly endeavoring not to let others’ differing
perspectives, Hollywood’s definition of beauty – or my negative self talk – add
weight where it’s most dangerous, in my heart and emotions and self-image.
Today, the pastor of my church spoke of how the Enemy (who,
you know, has a job description that is to “steal, kill and destroy”) knows
exactly when to tempt and to attack. My temptation, in this season, is to agree
with his insidious criticism and/or to berate myself for not being what society
oft’ says is preferred physically. As attacks go, it can do some damage.
But the truth is, grieving my dad’s Alzheimer’s, adjusting
to a life that took a radical geographical and professional re-locate from
where I thought I’d be after graduation, caring for my mom and helping other
family members… and just living each day within the choices I’ve made to be
“present” in this season… is enough for my mind and emotions to take on. Added denigrating
mental trash to the mix, is just that – garbage.
Because part of being “present” in this season is to be
ready at the drop of a hat to help my mom and to create adventures and
opportunities for my dad during most afternoons and evenings. Many of those are
food oriented. Tofu and carrot sticks don’t have the same Southern sensory
relativity, as do waffles. He doesn’t respond well to random rides around town or to
“Let’s go eat a salad,” the way he lights up when it’s “Let’s go to Waffle House”
or “Hey, why don’t we have coffee at the local pastry shop?” or “Dad, you want
some burger and fries?” Destinations matter, be they the library, the lake, or
a local restaurant.
Now, I will always likely find it tempting to war with my
body by mentally struggling with my physicality, regardless of my parents’
health or other circumstances around me. It seems to be a thorn that doesn’t get
removed from my flesh, regardless of how I pray for and work towards its
retraction. Like today, when I tried on the fuchsia lace dress, I noted that my
tummy reminded me of my paternal grandmother’s, my face looked really round,
and my unmentionables weren’t able to make all my imperfections magically
disappear.
Then I decided to once again tell the Enemy “to go to Hell”
(that’s his home anyway) and my own negative self-talk to cease and desist. And
as for the echoes of others’ previous criticisms or the foreshadowing of future
criticisms I may hear… I think I’ll just say, “Love you, but you can take your verbal
and mental trash and shove it… into the landfill where it belongs.”
For you see, when I wear that lacy fuchsia pink dress and
dance the night away in my oh-so-high wedged platform sandals that show off my
gams, I’m going to be grateful I have a body that can move, a mind that can
think, and a heart that can love… and well, my hips will just show one of the
ways I do so…
That’s okay, cause that’s how I roll. J
No comments:
Post a Comment