I’ve mentioned an acquaintance, A., who is the founder of one of the most successful gyms/workout methods in New York City. Her career exploded after she had several children and then developed a method to whip her body back into shape.
And in shape she is!!!
But when I look at her she looks too thin – not quite right for her frame. I know she must be very strong, but she’s just really thin – you know, where one’s head looks too big for their body. And clothes kind of hang.
A is also a member of a 12 Step Fellowship. All her sponsees sort of look like her – blonde and wan.
I commented on that to a male friend who knows her. His response – yes, she’s too thin, but most women want to look just like her.
Then he said that she found a way to fight her body into submission and has made it her life’s work to show other women how to spend long, hard hours getting their bodies down to an unnatural size. Almost like a punishment.
I thought that was interesting.
This is from my dear friend’s sister. I think it says it all….
Well, what it doesn’t say is that it’s impossibly sad that a lovely woman wants to write this at all. I think she’s beautiful. She’s funny and smart and talented and creative and kind. Isn’t that enough for our stupid world?
Here’s what she wrote:
I’m not the most beautiful woman in the world, nor am I the ARM CANDY, that men want- but I’m me. I love to eat maybe more than I should. I have scars because I have a history. Some people love me, some like me and some hate me. I have done well. I have done poorly. I go without make up or only wear it on special occasions and sometimes don’t get my hair done. I am random and silly. I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I am who I am. If I say I love you, I do it whole heartedly!! I make no apologies for who I am.
Damn right! It’s heart-breaking that we even feel like we might need to apologize for being our selves!
The next week is going to be ridiculously busy. I hate super-busy. Some people thrive on it. It takes me down.
I can not, for the life of me, multi-task. I make multi-mistakes. How some folks do it effortlessly and accurately is so far beyond me, I can’t actually comprehend it.
It will end – next week must be lighter. (I meant to write that it will be lighter, but truly – it must. I can’t function on high speed.)
Back in the day, I would have refused to do things I’d committed too, but I don’t do that anymore. I said I would (over and over and to too many people) and so I will.
Back in the day, I would have turned to food, alcohol and/or drugs to get me through. And sometimes to get me out of doing things – I’d get myself too sick to do anything.
These days, I do what a grown-up does – occasionally kicking and screaming, but more often with some form of grace.
I will be tired, I will get cranky, I will become afraid that I can’t handle it all.
I will do what I am supposed to do.
I’ve been writing about my friend, Lisa, and her ten year-old daughter, Hope, who has an alleged weight problem.
As I’ve said over and over, Hope looks just fine to me – not skinny, but not overweight (whatever that means!) at all.
Hope keeps having meltdowns about her weight/body. I asked Lisa if it’s because other kids tease her or if she just compares herself to other girls and comes up short (well, fat.)
Lisa says it’s both. That Hope has been called ‘fat’ four times in the last year, but mostly she sees the other skinny kids and hates her own body.
Hope wants desperately to diet, but Lisa refuses, steadfastly. Lisa insists that they eat very healthfully and nothing is going to change – end of story.
Still, Lisa is torn apart watching Hope suffer and doesn’t know if she’s doing the right thing. Yesterday, she asked me if she’s setting Hope up for an eating disorder, by not allowing her to diet.
No, I believe that she’s doing the completely right thing – telling Hope she’s perfect the way she is and continuing to serve healthy meals. If Lisa did hop on the diet bandwagon and restrict Hope’s food, then we’d be talking potential ED.
So hard for a mother to know what to do.
Side note; I was such a fat kid – I would have given anything and everything to be Hope’s size. How completely horrifying that even a normal weight now isn’t good enough. And remember – she’s only TEN!
I went wild and treated myself to a massage last night. I decided to see if totally relaxing would help me make some decisions/choices.
It worked! As the massage therapist dug deep into my knots, everything sort of opened up.
Answers came. They weren’t actually the answers I expected, but they are, I see clearly now, the right ones.
Will I abide by them and do what I need to do – that’s always the question for me. I need to make changes. Change can be difficult. But I must – for peace of mind, body and spirit.
One important change – no more fancy massages! 🙂
Insomnia has been a part of my life for most of my life.
I tried everything, but nothing brought sleep. I hated the night. Sometimes, I’d drink and binge, just so I wouldn’t have to go to bed and lay sleepless.
One time, I took Ambien. I had heard that sometimes, you don’t know what you’re doing when your on it, but I took my chances.
This particular night, I had just moved to the apartment over my brother’s garage out in West New Jersey. The apartment is all the way in the back, basically in the woods.
So, I took my Ambien and the next thing I knew, it was morning. I sat up and noticed that I was surrounded by container after container of Chinese food – enough to feed a nice family generously!
How did this happen? I have no idea. I don’t remember one moment of it.
I’d just moved there – how did I give directions to the delivery guys? How did I find a place to order from – I didn’t know the area at all?
Pretty creepy that I don’t remember a guy coming to my door. I don’t remember paying him.
Worse yet – I’m never particularly fully dressed when I’m around my apartment, particularly if I’m planning to go to sleep! YIKES.
But what I do know – a woman with an eating disorder, when compromised, WILL EAT COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF FOOD. Anytime, any place.
Not sleeping truly sucks. I am a zombie.
Night after night my eyes open at 1 or 2 am, and that’s it. It’s miserable.
I try to go back to sleep. I get up and take a bath. Saturday night, I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom. Even scrubbing floors all night didn’t put me to sleep.
I’m cranky. I’m punch-drunk. I’m exhausted.
I’m praying this is temporary, and not some constant of perimenopause.
It’s always said that people like Martha Stewart and Bill Clinton barely sleep. And they’re so accomplished! And they don’t look like zombies. How?!!!!!!!!!