Last week I stumbled across this blog called Medicinal Marzipan, where the blogger encourages a positive body image. There's a section of her website called "Body Homework," and in an effort to get to know myself, and my body, a little better, I decided to do that homework.
Here's the link to her page: http://www.medicinalmarzipan.com/?page_id=542
I did Week One about 2 weeks ago, and yesterday I started on Week 2's assignment. If you're interested, here's what I wrote for Week One. Keep in mind that this was a 20-minute freewrite, so I literally just wrote down what came to mind: no editing, no backtracking, no erasing. Here's what I got.
WARNING: Some mature themes ahead.
My body feels....
...heavy, like my shoulders are rounded from carrying some unexplained weight. My stomach is a thing unto itself...it feels like a pregnancy pad that I can't remove, like it's attached to my belly and the only way to get rid of it is to chop it off. My thighs are two chunks that rub together...but I'm describing what it looks like, not how my body feels.
My body feels strong after I go to the gym; I can do miles on the elliptical and know that it's making me stronger. My body feels peaceful, like it's a safe place to be. My body feels safe and cushioned, perfect for hugs and for cuddling. My body feels tingly. Energy is flowing through it. Energy is provided by my gym time and the fact that I can choose to feed it what it wants. My body can handle tough workouts for volleyball; it can walk around London all day, get hopelessly lost, and find its way back. My body feels pain; my body feels joy; my body feels love; my body feels anxiety. My body feels like extra. My body feels sexy when it's wearing the right clothes.
My body feels like lightning. My body feels invincible when I listen to Maya Angelou reading her poems on my iPod. My body feels protective of my little sister, but sorry that the past isn't there anymore; the hugs and cuddles aren't completely innocent, they're shared secrets from Mom and the fact that we have something grownup in common, the fact that I talk to her about boys now instead of friends and flowers.
My body feels empty, like it's waiting for someone to hug it, love it, play with it.
My body feels open. Open to new ideas and possibilities. Open to a chance that I might take on it. Poised on the threshold, but...confused. My body knows that it loves exercise, and running into the waves of the Atlantic and not noticing when I trip over a seashell. My body feels unhealthy and sluggish sometimes, especially when it rests in front of the TV for 3 hours, watching a marathon of Law and Order: SVU.
My body feels like it knows what it needs to do to get smaller. Or maybe that's just me. Because my aerobics instructor tells me one thing, and I know that it works...and then I read something else by Geneen Roth, and I think that it might work...so half of me wants to follow a program, and another half just wants to compromise. Part of me is scared that I will do the wrong thing.
My body doesn't want to listen to my mom's advice...but it does want her support...but it doesn't want the support that can twist into criticism so easily...it doesn't want the constant optimism or, most of all, the excuses. "But today was such a busy day" or "I was so tired today." If my mom keeps trying Weight Watchers, she'll end up like Grandma...at a perfectly normal weight, claiming she's obese. And I bring my body back to Mom every time.
My body was built for...
...long walks around interesting cities.
...scraping up my heels from so much walking.
...movement and rest.
...trust. When I swam out as far as I could into the ocean at Nags Head, I was scared. All I could see were blue-green waves, all I could taste was salt water, and my body was tossed around by the current, which couldn't make up its mind. But my body kept swimming, because it is more powerful than those waves. Then when it turned back toward shore, it saw the families on the beach and the specks that were mine, standing and looking out at me. A part of me didn't want to swim back: "keep going, see how far you can go until you have to turn around - I bet it's farther than you think." The other part of me knew my little sister was scared and couldn't go out further. So when I started to swim back, I didn't seem to be getting any closer because of how the waves were tossing me around. Mary knew that too and she was the scared part of my mind: why aren't we getting any closer?
But we were. I told her - and I told myself - to let the waves carry her in. Keep swimming, and the waves will push us - ever so slowly, but ever so surely. And of course we made it back. My body was built for riding the waves - literally and metaphorically.
My body was built for sex and love. Not the drunk kind, where I lay there and let it happen and just wait for it to be finished. No, my body was built for the kind of sex that satisfies two people, that erases my mind, that leaves me with a warm feeling of love and mutuality and passion.
My body was built for dancing, and for running into the water, and tripping up stairs (gracefully), and for love. My body was built to someday bear children. My hips were built for that purpose, along with the dancing and the swimming. My torso twists so I can run on the elliptical for an hour at a time; my knees bend to support my thighs when I'm playing volleyball. My shoulders roll forward and my arms roll together and to catch the ball, and my shoulder rotates and my wrist stiffens to serve the ball into 9 straight serves and 3 aces.
My mouth was built for singing and my heart was made for racing.
My body was built to be solid enough to build a house for another family [with Habitat for Humanity], solid enough to carry an armful of books to class every day.
My arms were built for writing and typing and conveying what my mind wants my eyes to see.
I've been truly blessed that I have these things and that my body can ride waves. When I think about all the work that went into making my body, it makes me wonder...how can I eat without thinking? How can I not appreciate every bite that goes into my mouth? How can I not take this gift and use it?
My body was built for smiling and moving, and thinking and dreaming and writing and doing and examining and learning and trusting and loving and accepting and being and knowing and feeling and pushing.
