8: My Fabulous Body

Sometimes, when I’m sorting laundry, I put on one of those “bride chooses wedding dress” TV programmes as a sort of mildly entertaining background noise. Last week, the show was about “plus-size” brides. A few things were said that really got me thinking.

Firstly, one of the consultants said that a confident girl could wear any dress she liked. She just needed the attitude to pull it off. What a “big” woman, without that sort of confidence should wear to her wedding, I don’t know. They didn’t say. An overcoat maybe?

Secondly, in trying to make one bride feel “better” about her figure, a consultant pointed out that her breasts and hips were bigger than her waist and therefore she still had a beautiful “womanly” figure. Good grief. It seems even in fatty world, there is a “better” kind of fat to be. I am shaped just like a cake pop (completely round top half on relatively thinner stem). What am I supposed to think about my body?

cake-pop-Image by White77 from Pixabay
Image by White77 from Pixabay

I imagine the people making this programme were probably quite well-meaning. They were definitely trying to jump aboard the positive-body-image/non-fat-shaming train that is whistling across our TV screens at the moment. But their comments reveal how far away we are from anything like an acceptance of body shape and size not being the defining factor in one’s attractiveness as a person.

Frankly, I don’t buy that idea myself. I confess that I see very fat people as a hell of a lot less attractive than thinner ones. (I also find emaciated people unattractive and rather frightening, but that’s a whole other story.) I was listening to my daughter commenting on an advert that featured bigger models, and realised that she also wasn’t buying into the idea of fatties being gorgeous at all, regardless of what she was being shown. (“They’ve all got such enormous bums, Mum!”) Perhaps these ideas are too deeply entrenched to be easily changed.

I often hear people say “Look at the film stars of yesteryear. They were not terribly thin, but they were considered drop-dead gorgeous.” Have you ever had a good look at Marilyn Monroe’s figure? She was no fatty and her sexy hourglass shape is probably just as unrealistic for most of us to achieve as would be the figure of a contemporary super model.

marilyn-monroe-Image by skeeze from Pixabay
Image by skeeze from Pixabay

No, the idea that a human being must aspire to a certain pleasing body shape is not a new one. At least, nowadays we can use Instagram filters and photoshop instead of having to resort to having a rib removed or corseting ourselves so tightly that we can barely breathe.

Men and women alike must conform to society’s current perception of a beautiful body. It is no surprise then that the journey I claim to be on towards a healthier body has turned out to be all about doing something about the old cake pop bod. Come to think of it, post-menopause, my body is more like a rugby ball on a stick, as my fat gradually creeps down my thighs to my knees. You see. There I go again. Concentrating on my body’s flaws. Like most people, I could fill several pages on the awfulness of my body. How boring. And how downright wrong. Instead I should be telling you how bloody wonderful my body is.

I am so enormously grateful for all my body’s amazing abilities. I can walk, run, dance, swim, jump and climb. I can dig in my garden and hang out the washing and cook lots of delicious food. I can read and write and sew and draw. My eyes see, my ears hear. I am so lucky I can barely believe it. Last week, I developed a really nasty stye inside my eyelid. It was sore. It was UGLY. Despite my best efforts to treat it at home, by Friday I woke up with an eye socket that was so swollen it looked like I was turning into a Klingon. In a bit of a panic I went to the doctor who prescribed antibiotics. But before starting the course, I decided to wait just one more night. I had a feeling that my eye was just a tiny bit less painful than before. And I was right. My lovely, healthy, strong body had seen off the infection all by itself.

Please don’t think I am boasting or gloating. I am fully aware of how fortunate I am. But I really want to acknowledge how amazing my body is, even if you (and I) do not necessarily find it aesthetically pleasing. I hope we can all do this, whatever our bodies are like. Seek out the things we value and treasure them, and waste no time at all fretting about the things that don’t match up to some mad image of perfection that we have in our minds.

jump Image by Tasy Hong from Pixabay
Image by Tasy Hong from Pixabay

7: New Resolution

Last week I caught myself chanting the following as a kind of motivational mantra: “Five weeks, five kilos, five weeks, five kilos.” Yes, you read that right. The person who is NOT on diet and is not trying to slim down for an arbitrary deadline is, in fact, doing both those things with a vengeance. No matter how vehemently I insist that this whole endeavour is primarily concerned with a change in lifestyle and an adoption of healthier habits, it is quite clear that I am fully immersed in the dieting mind-set of old, which, in theory, I utterly reject.

meal-plan-Image by Vegan Liftz from Pixabay
Image by Vegan Liftz from Pixabay

That dieting mind-set is the product of years of participating in the diet industry. Popular dieting clubs and programmes were first developed in the 1960s. By the time I joined up for the first time in the 1980s, they were well established and many of their features had become deeply entrenched in our dieting consciousness. The weekly weigh-in is a good example. Back in the day, you were weighed publicly and your weight loss or gain was announced to your fellow dieters each week.

Over time, the idea of shaming people into losing weight waned in popularity and the weigh-ins became more discreet. But in the big business world of dieting, they remained an invaluable tool, providing a boost to morale when the scales showed a loss, or a useful kick up the jacksie when they showed a gain.

I decided some years ago that paying someone to stop me from over-eating was an almost obscene concept in a world where so many go hungry every day. As a result, I haven’t been near a weigh-in or diet programme meeting for some time. Yet I still find myself very wedded to the idea of the weekly weight check. Since I embarked on this particular journey, I have been struggling to resist weighing myself too often and have been very affected by what I see on the scales – celebrating a substantial loss by allowing myself extra treats and responding to gains with depression and despair.

Inkedweighing-machine-Image by Spencer Wing from Pixabay
Image by Spencer Wing from Pixabay

I have also found myself moving the scales around the bathroom in order to get the “best” reading. How utterly stupid. I know very well that the number on the scale is not the point. But I bet I am not alone in falling into the trap of concentrating on numbers to the exclusion of everything else. I did a bit of reading on the internet about current dieting programmes and I see that Weight Watchers, for example, have rebranded their weekly weigh-ins. They are now marketed as “Workshops” with the emphasis on wellness rather than on weight loss. I wonder if the participants have managed to shift their mind-sets accordingly? I know, from my own experience that it is a lot more difficult than it seems.

The only time I have ever lost weight without thinking about it at all was just before my wedding. I was too absorbed in other stuff to spare a single thought to what I was eating. And interestingly, I am unable to tell you how much I weighed at the time. I simply had not bothered to check. In the photographs I look like a person with a healthy weight, but I have never again managed to be that unconscious of my weight – fatter or thinner, it has remained a big issue for me, front and centre in my consciousness.

So, I have had a big re-think and have made a few decisions.

Firstly, no more weekly stats. I am going to weigh myself once a month from now on and may eschew the scales completely if I am brave enough.

Secondly, I am throwing any notion of a timetable or a deadline out of the window. I did not, thank God, gain weight at the rate of a kilo a week, and it is quite mad to expect to lose it at that speed. I also know, from past experience that weight lost quickly as a result of a strict diet goes back on just as quickly once normal service is resumed.

trash-9Image by OpenIcons from Pixabay
Image by OpenIcons from Pixabay

Thirdly, I am sad to say that my original bright idea of saying “No” to sugar, seconds, snacks and sauce, must be abandoned. By this I do not mean that I am going back to gorging on all four of these things. But I am not going to attempt to give them up completely. Right now, I feel like I am at a reasonable level with all four. This week, for example, I had some wine on Sunday when we had a barbecue and I ate a meringue. That’s it, and that is just fine, I think.