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What about my body.... does it define me?

4/26/2017

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This picture is me in 2001 when I left Australia to head to Kuala Lumpur - the heaviest I'd ever been, and I know there are plenty of people who are bigger, please don't get me wrong - I'm using it to show how I have been, what you see today has not always been the way .....




I’ve written about body image before, and it’s a topic that keeps cropping up with people that I meet.  Why do we often strive to be a certain shape and size and feel that if we have boobs that are a bit small or big, hips/thighs that a bit large, a butt that wobbles too much and a belly that isn’t quite flat that our body is no good and not attractive “enough”…  (men reading please change the words to suit you…)

Attractive to whom though?  Men, women, society in general, the media, fashion designers? Or to ourselves?

What is “attractive” to us, to ourselves, to the holder of this most amazing living breathing entity in which we live?

What is body shape fashionable has changed so much over the decades, how can any woman possibly keep up with it when it comes to what the media says we are meant to look like.  From a waif to having curves to being ripped to toned to fit to boyish aarrrrgggghhhh.  What are we doing not only to ourselves, but to the younger generation growing up?

We can’t be all that the media says and why should we be?

I have had an ongoing love/dislike relationship with my body for years, since I was about 18 when I started to work in a pub.  I started to get more attention, particularly from older men as opposed to the ‘boys’ the same age I was used to at college.  For whatever reason I didn’t really like the attention although I couldn’t tell you why - self-esteem, introverted (ish), not used to it, not worthy of it…?  I remember shopping for clothes one day with my mum I said “I have boobs and hips” - “Yes dear” she replied “You’re a woman…”… Humph I didn’t want them.  I started to watch what I ate, count calories and worry about my belly size for the first time ever in my life.

What’s sad is that now girls as young as 12 worry about these things - what a loss of childhood.

Over the years my adult body has changed shape and size, as low as 54kg to as high as 71Kg. I didn’t notice the increase in weight until I put on an old pair of jeans - well I didn’t put them on as they didn’t fit me!  Had I gained weight because I was happy or sad or just living?  Was I content with my new size and shape?  Given the fact I hadn’t really noticed the weight gain - what did that mean?

When I tried those jeans on, I became unhappy with my size - or was it that my attention had simply been brought to something I hadn’t noticed?.

Regardless, I cut back, trained more and the weight came off.  

Was I happier?  In myself yes, I preferred to be (and still do) on the slimmer side, did my relationship with my boyfriend improve - no, did my relationship with my self and my esteem improve? - No.

I don’t believe size equates to happiness in life, it can certainly play a part but we are excellent at blaming our size for our unhappiness when it might be something else that we simply don’t want to face.

I have put my body through hours of training, completed 2 IronMan (11-12 hour races), endless workouts of many a sort, eaten and drunk to excess, binged (I was a binge eater for a number of years), been toned, been less toned, I have loved my body, chastised it, looked at it in disgust, beaten it up and myself up for not being good enough - and all to what end?  

When was I at my happiest with my shape?  As an athlete who could race well and looked toned, or as a non athlete who wasn’t so toned?  Neither actually.

I became the happiest in my body when I became happier within myself, faced some demons and lived my life more in accordance with my values and with the right people around me.  When those things started to come into place, then my body settled into its shape, the binge eating became less as did the amount I trained.  I am grateful that I come from good genes, but it doesn’t mean staying the way I want to be is easy and just happens, and nor does self confidence and belief in oneself - they all take on going effort and attention and awareness.  I write this in the knowledge that yes I have a lovely body and am fit and healthy - but it doesn’t necessarily mean I am confident in who I am and what I look like and it is easy to forget that when we look at others.

As a society are we putting too much emphasis on how someone physically looks, as opposed to who they are and how they see/feel about themselves and how you feel when you are around each other?  

Real beauty is way beneath the skin.  It is in someone’s being, how they are, their energy, their very essence, their confidence and acceptance of self whatever size or shape.  

What if we were more accepting of each other in this way?  And more importantly accepting of how we are? 
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buried in the sand

4/18/2017

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It was a stunning Easter Sunday - at last the rain stayed away and the sun stayed out all day.  Perfect given I had planned a picnic at the beach with a friend.  

I packed the bag of goodies; dips, chips, meat, cheese, olives - I created my own deli style lunch and it looked delicious.  We wandered down and found a quiet bench away from the main stream crowd, our conversations are often not for all ears…  We sat, unpacked the spread, the wine was poured and we settled into easy banter. 
Around the park children played, bikers pedalled their way to or from home, a guy on a unicycle-looking like a giant - gracefully cycled passed - how did he do it!!  An older man with shocking white hair poking out from under his cap, was fiddling with his fishing rod getting ready to cast it into the East Coast waters.  Thoughts of if he'll catch anything or not, how chilled he is just hanging out at the park - is he happy on his own?  

With bellies full of scrumptious food and the bottles of wine empty, we wandered to the shop and stocked up with more liquid refreshment before finding a spot on the sand to sink into.  Looking across at the skyline, even with the horizon broken by tanker after tanker, there's still a magic about it.  The water and the sky meeting in a blend of blue and white, creating a straight line that any architect would be proud of.   My friend and I sat there both grateful for the fact we live where we do, not taking for granted what this small island has to offer. 

There was a group of people playing in the sand near the shore - the waves gently crashing on them as they bury one woman in the sand.  They might be in their 30s plus, yet the joy they exuded was like that of 5 year olds.  Lifting sand, covering each other with it, splashing water and enjoying all of the day.  

The guy started to bury the girl, my friend and I watched as he covered her body and built the body he wanted -  2 huge boobs appeared as they giggled away! They got sea weed and placed it as pubic hair - it was a pleasure to see people being so open and carefree and just having fun. 

As we continued to drink our wine, they continued to pile sand on the girl. When my eyes glanced back to them a while later, all I could see was a huge pile of sand.  OMG where was her head!? Had they really buried her totally? Could she still breathe? I couldn’t see a straw poking up out of where her head would be…. Were we going to be witness to a murder!!!! 


Daft thoughts I know. 


I felt the need to run into the water, and at the same time check on the girl.  I ran down and went over to them, of course I really knew that she’d be okay, but I had to check! Her face was uncovered and she was beaming brighter then the sun!! 
I told them I was worried and they laughed loudly, deep from inside their bellies.  I ran in the water relieved and content that she was okay and I’d checked.  As I came out they called me over as they'd found a 'pearl of the orient’; a stone/rock with a mosaic pattern... Only one though, no good for nipples I told them as their smiles widened, I said I was waiting for him to build a penis too and we all laughed.  

I sat with my friend again and told him what had happened.  5 minutes past and the guy wandered up to us and said:

                                  "Thank you"




I was taken aback - thank you for what? all I did was go over.   In his 32 years here it was the first time a gweilo had approached them in the way I had and his day had been made better for my simple act. 

I sat astounded, why wouldn't I have done what I did?  They were people having fun, enjoying being together and it was beautiful to watch and to be a small part of it. 

They all headed over, brought coke and an ice box, offered us a drink and told us a bit about themselves - their kids at home and their jobs here. They seemed so at peace with their lives, it was what it was and why would they not enjoy a weekend at the beach. 
They left and I was overcome with emotion, am I really that different that others don't do as I did and talk to people?  I like to think I am different in certain ways (we all are) but I'd rather not be unique when it comes to connecting with others even if only for 10 minutes.


Why did it make their day you might wonder?


These guys were all from the Philippines which is possibly why some won’t/don’t approach them. 

To me they were people who loved the afternoon, loved each other and had a love for life. ​

I am grateful that they were at the beach so I had the opportunity to say hello to them - at the end of the day we are all the same....

3 Comments

    lisa....

    I have opinions on most things - and I am happy to listen with an open mind, seeing a different view. Please feel free to comment and tell me how it occurs for you..

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