Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Weight, loss, genetics and other things.

I was reading TechnoDyke's journal this morning and she posted a link to an NY times article about obesity and genetics.

I think it's an excellent article and everyone should read it. Fat or not.

What it brought to mind aside from a twittering of OH SCIENCY GOODNESS type feelings are the far more complicated feelings I have about my weight.

First off, my perspective on the issue is I think an odd one. I have been under and overweight and everything in between. I also have spent an inordinate amount of time trying to shuck myself of the way it's put out there that one is "supposed" to think about weight.

I want to work from the past forwards here. I might start rambling I don't know. You have been warned.

Since first hearing about genetics and how they think it all works (let's face it, it's still a large mystery) I remember being very young and feeling not quite bad but close to it because I knew from the get go I would not be built like the women in my family who I had access to. My Mother, Grandmother and Great Grandmother all have body types far different from mine.

I am short, broad shouldered, short legged, short torso'd, big tits.

My Mom and Grandma are both tall and spent a majority of their lives being very thin, very very thin and after age 40 somewhat less thin.

My Great Grandmother (R.I.P Nana I miss you) was about average/tall height and prior to getting old very curvy. Classic hourglass.

Until I was about 12-15 I had no idea that I was built like all of my Great Grandmother's Aunts and cousins. It wasn't until I saw a photograph of a Great Aun taken sometime in the late 60's early 70's that I understood this. I understood it immediately and viscerally because I thought on first glance that it was a picture of me taken from the side. She had on a short black dress, no shoes and her hair was big and wild. The photo had been taken after some party or another.

I finally got it after years of feeling a little out of place. I saw the woman I might grow up to be physically and for awhile, I was damn excited.

In those days though admittedly sometimes I longed for the flat bellied lithe look of my peers, I actually kind of enjoyed my body. I was still in that space where my body was this fantastic thing that I could use to dance and walk and (surprise surprise..at least to me) look and feel desirable.

Though I spent far too much time exeercising, trying to maintain what I felt was my "best body" to steal a phrase from womens magazines I wasn't really happy still. I did learn some things though.

Thousands of crunches, weight lifting etc still will not make me a hard body.

This body was made for comfort and looking like the plush hotness. Muscles and my body don't get on well.

Cellulite happens.

I took these things and for a few years even after high school when I was lost and scared and felt the most like the weird girl out, I still felt okay with my body and as I found out my fatness.

I was not meant to be a thin woman. After years of abusing my metabolism, abusing my joints with heavy impact exercise, eating crap ass food because it had less calories than whatever else I wanted, all that sacrifice and insanity and goddamn it my body still did what it wanted to.

Can you imagine? I spent the better part of a decade of my teen/post teen/earky 20's in this vicious useless cycle. What for?

Granted for short periods I found that abstract place where I thought my body was perfection dipped in milk chocolate. Looking back I was wrong.

Wrong because I honestly look strange (in a not unique or interesting way just bad strange) when I'm thinner than say a size 10-12. I was wrong because my body was suffering. I was starving and mean and hateful because I was fucking hungry. I was miserable and not cute. Which defeated the whole shebang.

I still believed earnestly that thin=good=happy.

No my equation was way off. thin=kinda shitty=fucking depressed.

That was not good. I woke up from that and spent a few years in a blissful state I like to call I just don't give a fuck. And you know what? I didn't. I felt god, I looked good, I was finally at body/self image nirvana it was fantastic.

That brings me up to now.

Where am I now?

I am not thrilled with my body. Aging I accept, feeling feeble I do not. After a series of falls, mishaps etc I have managed to fuck up my back enough that I have to be very careful with exercise so I don't hurt myself. I have joints that are to put it sweetly fucking crappy and I have to be careful.

Sometimes a normal amount of activity leaves me aching and unable to sleep.

Thus I have become less active.

Thus I feel less healthy and all round icky.

Is there light in the tunnel?

Yes there is. I have rediscovered a love of dancing and have a goal to have learned enough belly dance to go to Tribal Fest in two-three years. I am walking about 1.5-2 miles a day. And I have figured out my body isn't going to change that much so I should enjoy what I've got.

And what have I got?

I have a fantastic, (no seriously) FAN_FUCKING-TASTIC rack. I have phenomenal beautiful boobies. I love them.

I have nice soft skin. I have firm an shapely calves, I have a jiggly slightly protuberant belly. I am learning, no relearning how to enjoy this one body I get. It's hard and I damn sure don't do well at it every day but I'm working on it.

To that end I have decided that this summer I am doing two things that I haven't done in more than five years. I am going to go try on clothing until I find a dress that fits and a pair of pants. I am also considering buying a bathing suit even though I don't swim much.

If you've never had body issues it doesn't sound like a big deal but a lot of you know where I am coming from.

That said, now I am going to eat some fucking chocolate and have a cup of very fine coffee because I can.

Homo Out.


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