I was in the office for the reading of the MRI, the insanely expensive test for which I cannot afford to pay but chose to move forward despite this reality, to answer the burning question of What is the extent of the damage to my leg and let's get this show on the road, already, yo!
He looked straight ahead at the computer, waiting for my answers to the burning questions.
No new injuries.
And there I stopped. I didn't answer the next question.
He turned the wheeled chair around to look over his half glasses at me, a fine specimen of manhood, in his early forties, nicely built, balding with a gray beard. An attractive man. A friendly man. An "I will take no bullshit from anyone" kind of man.
You know what I don't get? It's just a number. You women, you make it all out to be the center of the universe. It's a NUMBER. Ask any man around, and they will tell you that they prefer a woman with a little meat on her bones - and all of those skinny fashion models that we are supposed to emulate? That school of thought comes from gay European designers. Real men, they want a woman who looks like a woman, and not like a prepubsecent school girl.
Now, how much do you weigh?
My husband is in love with the USA Women's volleyball pairs teams. He watches the matches, mesmerized and cajoling me to Watch this! as well as Did you see that? and the ever famous Wow, do they look good.
One game before the finals - they all run together, I'm really sorry, I LOVE me some Olympics but I'm kinda tapped out at this point - he made an offhand comment.
The volleyball players are too toned and musculed. I don't like my women like that.
I may or may not have swatted him. He was puzzled - why did I find that comment upsetting? It was just the truth - he doesn't like toned women, he said.
Both of those are true. As a general rule - and I know we aren't supposed to generalize - women hate their bodies. Mostly because we compare ourselves over and over and over. We compare ourselves to magazine covers, to other women we see at school, to TV anchors and next door neighbors. We compare ourselves to women who spend ten hours a day exercising, to women who have different body types, to women who have different goals and realities than many of us.
Know what I do for ten hours a day? WORK. Same as all of you. Either at my computer or in my house, and I can try to do squats while I do dishes and do counter top push ups while the rice cooks - but I'm squeezing it in and that's the very best I can do some days.
These are things I have to remember:
Weight is a number
Size is a number
I'm doing the best I can do
I've injured myself trying to do more than I should
I'm not a celebrity/Olympian/Famous Person/model
I'm an average person
Being healthy - with lower BMI and blood pressure and cholesterol numbers - is critical
Being a size 2 does not mean that *I* am healthy. YOU can def be a size 2 and be healthy - when I was, I wasn't healthy.
If I'm unhappy with my weight, I can eat less
Or move more. It's all in my control
As much as I might want to blame someone else/genetics/body chemistry/the environment/the President/state of the global food market/HFCS - well, maybe HFCS
I think we all need to do the best we can possibly do. For most of us, that means exercise every day. Maybe billing that exercise in with a family member as a way to spend time together - I walk with my husband a couple of times a week. I don't think any of us needs to drink a Big Gulp cup of sugar soda every single day, and I think we should all try (oh, so definitely me in this one) to eat less sweets.
Sweets and breads are my arch nemesis.
Why do women get caught up in this insanity and men don't appear to be affected?