Fit + Flabuless!

You know, I honestly think the moments of clarity and profundity are so closely chased by a wallowing misery because a) there is no easy truth, my dear, since b) most of us are habitually blind to it, in fact work quite hard at ignoring it, and c) you and I are, on top of all that, bleeding-fucking-masters, er, mistresses, of self-sabotage.

Let me 'splain. Is it true that we are rather fit, if not flabuless, right now? Yes. Perhaps fitter even than the chain-smoking, rail-thin model types that skulk around Manhattan? Very likely. Is it true that on top of this, we are charming, fascinating, well-educated, wickedly clever bitches? Uh-huh. Now, is any of this linked to the way we are or have been treated in the world? Sometimes yes, but often, sadly, no. Sometimes we get the shit end of the stick for no reason. But being human, we want always to be in control of the way in which we are treated, to master our lives, which leads us to seek the "faulty" areas that we should improve to do so. Like eliminating arm jiggle, or a really quite natural layer of fat in your thighs that you work damn-hard to get rid of, but your body is all, "Nah, bitch, it stays!" Because, hellooooooo, that's where we store the fat that helps us through the physical hell of baby-making and also happens to be what makes us ladies in the first place. It's supposed to be there. Somehow, this has not been making you feel any better. So you beat yourself up about not running 18 miles today when you don't, even though you know you're going to do it tomorrow, and makes you beat yourself up again when you do, because for some ridiculous reason, you aren't impressed with yourself for doing it. Uh, end point A.

Begin point B. Now, why in hell aren't you impressed? Is it not true that running 18 miles in under four hours in a single day, and then not falling down dead and footless at the end, is genuinely impresseive? It sure as shit is impressive. And yet, you are distracted from the fact that this is increible. Why? Because some numnuts scheduled your classes all wrong, against your warnings, and some other numnuts is making you professionally bunk with some irritating chit who has stolen the window-view even though she's bloody blind, and your ex is practicing the asshatery that he has always practiced, you now realize with you and everyone else he's encountered because it's all he is capable of, and because the almighty teevee acts like ain't nobody over a size two exists in any capacity other than mockery or scorn, let alone ever run a race? Well I say bah! Bah to that! "Fuck all y'all," that's what you need to be saying!

What was my point?

Ah yes, truth and beauty, or at least perception thereof. Beauty is one subject which has long since lost any grounding in truth. But we have this idea of it as some sort of ultimate truth. Wait, I don't know where that's going. I start again. Oh hell, let's just skip it and move on to point C.

So, as you know, you and I have a tendency to want to rock our own boats. We are quite adept at it, in fact. So when you are faced with embarking upon a grand voyage, it is only natural that you would be gearing up for a little boat rocking as well. Consider if you will, what you have set yourself up for in the coming months:

a) Continued instruction and guidance of the most insufferable members of society, private school undergraduates. I say this knowing full well what an insufferable undergraduate I once was.

b) Beginning a doctoral program that will more squarely set you on the path to your dream of literary godhood.

c) Running in a single day, several times a week, the ground only covered in a single day by marauding types like Visigoths and Huns on massive campaigns of destruction and whatnot.

d) Continuing to carry the burden of writing dumb-ass stories for your local paper even after you told those bitches you didn't want any more on your plate than you've already got, turning out high-quality copy, and then getting paid arse for it.

e) Approaching the birthday before the 3-0, and deciding you need to have accomplished something huger than what you have already accomplished, which includes a whole roster of goddamned impressive acts like walking across European nations and surviving potentially fatal illnesses before you hit 20. But I guess, when put that way, I get why you might feel unimpressed with what you got goin' on now, having slain those dragons so early on. Hm.

f) Oh, and also putting pressure on yourself to find the Lurve. Which is just nervewracking if everything else is going peachy-keen, so, yeah, hextra hell when you've got a-e to deal with.

When you set such a mission for yourself, is it any wonder that your subconscious is screaming with fear? Because, while I know you will succeed, and you know you will succeed, you can't help the "What if I fail?" reflex. So you start to sink your ship before it sets sail.

This boat analogy has gone on too long. As has this long-winded, crazy post. So I sum up: RELAX! You are being, frankly, human in your fears and confusion. And entirely too hard on yourself for such passing moments of weakness. Keep sight of your newfound wisdom and desire to be happy with yourself as you are. Yes, periods of uncertainty will come, but, as you are a balanced person with lots of love, support and a damned good head on your shoulders capable of intense moments of clarity and self awareness in the first place, you will come round right again.

Now get your ass out there and run.

Love ya!