I’m been feeling a bit blah lately. Nothing big and nothing dire. Just meh. Like my initials! I’m not completely sure why, but it’s partly to do with it being summer. I hate summer. So much hatred for the summer. I hate heat so much. It’s in the top five of my most hated things.
But, a few days ago, I was literally feeling myself (my ass) and being very happy that I have one now. Again, it’s not as much of an ass as I would like, but it’s there. And my biceps are really making me happy. Plus. Yesterday, I put my hair up in Chun-Li buns minus the turkey leg wrappers and I have the thicc thighs to match. I want to be chunky Chun-Li for Halloween, even if I have nowhere to go.
I’m feeling sassy. And I’m feeling good. And I have no qualms about saying it. Look. I’ve hated my body for decades. I’ve abused it and been mean to it, and I’ve flat-out ignored it. I thought it was grotesque and that it was an abomination upon this world. I live in a culture that fully supports that fat women and people who present as women should be ashamed of ourselves and as apologetic as possible about existing.
Side Note: This was the same when it comes to children. I had made the decision in my early twenties not to have them, and I never wavered. There was so much anger at me for daring to buck the status quo, but even more so because I didn’t consider the status quo worthy of thinking about. I never said this, but I’m sure it came through in my attitude. Any article I read at the time about not having children was ladened with other way to care for children (being an aunt, a mentor, a go-to for childcare, etc.) and reasons why they did not want children. Mostly genetics. Or their mental health issues.
All of this is fine, but I didn’t feel (and don’t feel) like I need to be apologetic or make excuses for not wanting/having children. There is one reason at the top of my list: I don’t want them. I never have. And at this point in my life, I doubt I ever will. I did have other reasons on the list (I’d be a terrible mother, we don’t need more people, it’s bad for the environment, etc.), but I really think the only reason you should have kids is because you actively want them.
Back to my body. I’ve been told I’m fat and gross by my mother since I was seven. Hm. She was also the one who gave me so much shit about not having kids. Coincidence? No. She did not specifically say I was gross, but she di say that I would be so pretty if I would lose some weight. When I was seven. She’s 5’2″ and has been obsessed with that five pounds for all her life. Whether she was at her peak weight or not, it was never enough. She definitely had her own body dysmorphia that she foisted upon me.
The epitome of her broken thinking is that when I was anorexic (twice), she had nothing to say about it except to comment that my waist was tinier than hers (in a tone of jealousy). She never once voiced any concerns about my health when my thighs didn’t touch each other and I had a hard time breathing. So, yeah, miss me with the ‘I’m worried about your health’ bullshit.
So pardon me if I’m not going to apologize that I am absolutely feeling myself (not literally in this case). I’ve got Lizzo cranking and dancing in my seat as I type this.
Side Note II: I love that Lizzo employs plenty of thicc WOC. Not just as her dancers, but also as her musicians. I love that she is living large (yes, literally) and unapologetically. She’s wearing pinks and purples as she says, “This is who I am. I don’t give a shit if you like it.” Plus she can saaaaaaang. I love that she gives people confidence about themselves, no matter what they look like.
I am absolutely into my body right now. I’ve always had thick thighs. I’ve been self-conscious about them since I was a teen. However, now, I’m excited about them–and my ass. And my biceps. And my boobs. Not quite as excited about my stomach, but not hating it, either. I consider that a step up.
Paradoxically, I’ve been thinking about losing weight. But I know that if I go down that road, it’s too easy for me to slip into disordered thinking about dieting. Also, weight is not directly correlated to health. So. I’m trying to keep it more in the realm of eating better. And I’m slowly upping my Taiji routine.
Side Note III (it’s a side note heavy day): When I reached the point in my recovery that I was back to doing my entire Taiji regime in the morning, that was when I knew I was back. Now, I’m working on doing more. I love Taiji. It got me through the dark days. It’s the reason I’m here. Back in the early days, I resented it like hell. I hated the Solo Form so much. So. Much.
I dragged my feet on doing the weapons. I told my teacher that I was not a violent person (oh, the stereotypes) and that I just could not. She literally had to put a wooden sword in my hand and tell me to ‘just hold it’. Everything in me screamed no, but I did it, anyway. And instantly fell in love. it was everything I wanted in my life, even if I had not known it up until that point.
It changed my life. I didn’t realize it at the time because it was such a small thing, but it absolutely changed my life. I cannot even tell you how much it’s changed my life. I would say it’s part of the reason I’m still here. Not just because I love it so much but because doing a half-hour to forty-five minutes of weapons a day has added high quality to my life.
Two days after I returned home from the hospital, I picked up my steel sword and did three movements. I was instantly tired out, but, damn, it felt so good. It was my signal to myself that I was still alive, that I was going to continue on. Now that I can do my whole regime again plus a whole new weapons form, well, I’m more than back, bay-bee!