Weight

I did the dumbest thing a person can do in the tenth month of a pandemic: I weighed myself. I had intentionally stayed away from the scales because I knew it was a dumb idea to start my morning with numbers. I added insult to injury by weighing myself on the first day of my period, which if you don't know, is like getting a portrait done five minutes after you've woken up. It's just a bad idea all around.

SO I weighed myself, couldn't stop my impulse and there they were: the numbers. And they told me exactly what I expected them to tell me: I had gained weight. OBVIOUSLY. But I gained ten pounds and this felt a little harsh for my scale to thrust at my face.

Now let me tell you a little secret: I feel great. I mean, even though I'm more anxious and I haven't worn a bra or makeup for an untold amount of time, even though I can't even imagine wearing anything with buttons or anything other than cozy socks, even though I am becoming an expert at stretching the acceptable length of time between showers, I actually feel pretty confident in my body. I've been walking lots, wearing sexy yoga pants, that kind of thing. 

Just to be sure I wasn't doing something terrible to myself (because I felt fine and even though I'm sure I could eat more healthy, I feel like I've been doing OK), I looked up my BMI. Because that's a perfect measurement of health. (Please say that last line with all the sarcasm you can muster.) But seriously, it's at least a tool that can help me know if I should maybe be less laissez-faire with my choices. 

Get this: my BMI is in the normal category. 

I am certain that about 90% of the people who read that last line just uttered (possibly out loud): 

"This Bitch." 

And that's not entirely unfair. I get it. Here I am whining about gaining ten pounds and I'm in the "normal" BMI range, whatever that means. I'm on the top of it, but I made it.

This is when it hit me. I feel fine because I AM fine. The numbers are just one measurement that I have had to learn not to take too seriously. If you're fighting with me in your head (as some voices in my own head are trying to do), then you might have some body image issues. It's OK- join the universal club- it takes a long ass time to work that shit out, and the entire capitalistic society is working overtime against your efforts. 

I had forgotten how huge the market was for us feeling crappy about our bodies until I watched cable with commercials for the first time in months at our Airbnb (aka: we need to be ANYWHERE ELSE other than home). Wow. SO many commercials telling you SO many things about your body and food. All of it conflicting, none of it helpful. If you grew up before streaming shows was a thing (which is most of us), then you grew up with at least one source of "your body sucks," aka commercials. Forget about whatever family baggage you have. Body image issues seem to be a foundational part of being human, specifically, American.

But here's the other realization that I had: weight has nothing to do with your body image issues. I'm going to repeat it because even I don't fully believe it: 

Weight has nothing to do with your body image issues. 

Y'ALL. How many skinny-gorgeous-people do you know who are complete lunatics about their bodies? I can name a few. In fact I remember this one baby doll-eyed gorgeous woman confessing her low self-esteem and I was like: "This Bitch." But she wasn't lying. She was *gorgeous* and had body image issues. If you think about it, the list of people who have body image issues is about as diverse in actual body shape/size/ability as the fish in the ocean. 

SO therefore, if you change your numbers, it won't change your mind. The body is a friggin miracle and also an insanely delicate and resilient thing. Human bodies really are bizarre. They deserve a whole lot more than stupid numbers. They deserve to be moved in fun ways, touched, bathed, rested, walked, lotioned, all the nice things you should wish upon an entity that carries your heart, soul, and mind. 

She's working hard y'all! Give her some love, and watch your body relax into the safe space you've created for her. 

$#@%^ the numbers.