For 6 months, I’ve been on a body liberation journey. It was, strangely enough, prompted by my future children.
I want them to look in the mirror & love what they see. I needed to do some work to lead by example. Not with a diet, a new workout regimen or superfood. This would have to be a change of mindset. I’ve always been small. I experience & benefit from thin privilege, which means a lot of positive things are assumed about me -- good health, fit, takes care of herself. But we know that size doesn’t equal health. In fact, some of my thinnest days, I wasn’t exercising, eating enough & was incredibly stressed, which we know is bad for health. We can assume a lot & treat people differently based on their size. Fatphobia is at the root of it. For me, this fear can be subtle & it can also dictate a lot. Fatphobia keeps me scrutinizing my body, fearing any sign of flab or jiggle as the end of a good, healthy life. But it’s just not true. In fact, what I consider a good & healthy life is one where I can let go of this fear. I’m learning that my body knows what it needs. If I want cold or hot food, need more greens, protein, bread, or chocolate. I can trust that I will take good care of it by listening & nurturing it like I would a child, a pet, or even a plant -- unafraid of how it will naturally change & grow. I don’t need to calculate to achieve; smaller isn’t my goal. I’m learning not to fight this. Because I know that what is beautiful, worthy, healthy & good doesn’t come in one size. This is really hard. Messages of losing, shrinking & restricting are everywhere. They’re more ingrained than I’d like to admit -- like racism, homophobia, or transphobia. I constantly have to push back. If & when my body grows, I won't hate myself for it. I’ll take pleasure in the joys of a juicy plum & a decadent dessert. I’ll be grateful for my strength, my taste buds & my body as it is -- skin, flab, muscle, teeth, hair, veins & all. Because it’s what I want for my children.
0 Comments
This is one of my simpler tidbits. It feels wrong to put something out into the virtual space that is not about vaccines, police violence, or something else that’s relevant and very important. But my audience is a small one, and maybe saying a few words on snail mail in my small corner of the internet is okay? So, here goes.
Before COVID, mail was kind of whatever to me. Birthday cards from my parents and grandparents came (thank you!), and so did the usual bills and notices. This year, my walk to the mailbox for the casual daily check brought pure joy. Snail mail, one of our earliest forms of communication and connection, allowed me to send crafts for volunteer projects when I couldn’t be in person. It invited “Kyle and Kate” holiday cards for the very first time. Follow up applications to online submissions. Thank you cards to mentors. A tiny batch of save the dates and wedding invitations. Care packages to family for birthdays and ones recovering from COVID. Printed pictures to people I haven’t seen. Growing up, I remember our address book readily available in a kitchen drawer. It held the names of our people and where to find them. This year, I started my own. I cut the return addresses from mail received and taped them into a small notebook; adding a permanence of contacts to the impermanence of contact this year. There’s something about the tangible quality of paper, mailed, that attempts to fill the gaps of distant connections. There’s something about the delayed gratification of something shipping and arriving. The process of preparing items to go out and come in. The waiting game. The joy of delivery. After attempting to clean out my childhood room, I found I keep more papers than anything else. For me, they hold meaning. The content of relationships. Exchanges of how we felt frozen in time. Once I write something and give it away, it leaves me. Sometimes I want to hold on; I say I’ll take a picture before sending. But I forget. I’ve received some beautiful things this year. More cards for more holidays in place of celebrating in person. Packages for birthdays, our engagement, and just because. It’s all been lovely and childlike fun. Someday, I might toss old papers away. Maybe the time will feel right to let go. But most likely, I’ll work to make scrapbooks from it all. In what’s become standard COVID fashion, we’re having a micro wedding! An intimate gathering of 17 people with our immediate family of parents, siblings, and grandparents who are able. It will be small and simple, and we look forward to sharing the joy of this occasion with extended family and friends when it is safe to do so.
I never dreamt of my wedding. I didn’t feel wedded to any particulars (pun intended). And I thought this would make my life easier. But it ultimately presented a surprising amount of possibilities. I never thought I’d spend hours on something like napkins or color schemes! Each item felt like it needed considerable thought, checking in with our preferences, and ultimately making a decision. Even though we’re not catering to many people, and even though we’re going small and simple, the fact that there were so many decisions made it feel high stakes. The possibilities felt endless. What would it look like if we did it this way, or that? The suggestions of Pinterest and researching new ideas or DIY projects led me down too many rabbit holes and left me wondering, what do I/we even want? Getting grounded in our values was our first step. We talked through what our wedding meant to us, and our families, and built it from there. I’ve found that it takes work to keep a hold of this grounding. I was surprised, too, by the magic. A conversation with a photographer was the first time I walked through what it would actually feel like to flow through the day. Finding the perfect place setting gave me more emotions than I’d ever had towards a plate. Our first meeting with the Rabbi confirmed all the good things we read about her, and made us nervous-excited! We’re through the big decisions and easing into the little ones. With less than 3 months to go, I’m working to stay grounded in what matters most. From there, I’m hoping for only more magical moments! |
Moving through timemore intentionally. Archives |