Thursday, February 2, 2012
enraged by the "Cage"
For me, the better question is, “do you ever NOT get that ‘I’m-so-fat’ feeling?” For as long as I can remember, I have felt fat, and to be honest, my size has ebbed and flowed for most of my life. Just ask my doctor. His chart of my weight has all the peaks and valleys of an erratically behaving stock market.
Just before I met Jeremy, I was probably the thinnest I’ve ever been. Thank you, two-a-day work-outs and a budget that only allowed for very small portions. Since dating isn’t at all conducive to dieting, though, I put on … well, I don’t even know how much I put on, because I’m too scared to stand on a scale. What I DO know is that I loosely wore a dress in June that wouldn’t zip on the honeymoon. In October. “Fat and happy,” they call it, but as I quipped to my fellow bulge-battling friend Brian a few weeks ago, “When it comes to getting dressed every morning, I kinda miss ‘thin and miserable.’”
How messed up is that? I have an incredible relationship with a wonderful husband, who also happens to be the most patient person I have ever met – and thank goodness for that, because if he weren’t, there’s no way he’d put up with the many times each week when I grab the paunch in my middle and say, “I hate my body” – in spite of my abundantly blessed existence, all I can think is, “How many more miles do I have to run before my metabolism gets faster?” and “Why don’t those tips in Self magazine ever work for me?!”
I know I’m not alone in this. In her empathy-saturated semi-memoir Life inside the ‘Thin’ Cage, Constance Rhodes takes what she calls “a personal look into the hidden world of the chronic dieter.” I love this book. So do the many friends to whom I’ve texted excerpts, like this one:
“I can recall whole conversations passing me by while I sat detached, engrossed in determining whether I was on track for the day, or whether I had eaten too much at lunch. Social events that should have been fun were spent evaluating how many calories and fat grams were in the meal I had just eaten.”
She could’ve ripped that right out of my journal. Or from the calorie-tracking app I keep on my iPhone. I hate how much time I spend strategizing my diet. I hate the dread I feel when getting dressed every day. I hate that, instead of enjoying the very full life that God has so graciously given me, I feel like things will only be perfect when I look perfect, but the truth is that perfection is a moving target. Remember the thinnest I’ve ever been? Even then, I thought I was fat. “Ten more pounds,” I’d tell myself, or “two more sizes.”
Rhodes’s cage analogy, then, is a great one. It’s a self-imposed imprisonment, obsessing over what I weigh. My husband sure doesn’t put the pressure on me. Even my mother responded when I said, “I’ve gotta go run off the ‘fat and happy’” with “I don’t think you’re fat, but I’m glad you’re happy.” It’s an unnecessary containment of my own creation.
So if I’ve locked myself into this “cage,” shouldn’t I also hold the key to free myself? Sure seems like I should. So what would make me feel better? Clearly, getting thinner hasn’t done it, because when I was, I still wasn’t happy with how I looked. And what determines how I think I should look, anyway? That question is actually what prompted this blog entry to begin with.
An old friend tweeted a link to this video.
Fotoshop by Adobé from Jesse Rosten on Vimeo.
It got me to thinking (again) about what a stronghold our secular, self-obsessed society has on my mind. As a Christian, I am called to be in the world, but when it comes to body image, I am very much of it, expecting my 34-year-old frame to fit the form that only comes from, if this video is to be believed, computer-enhancement (by “A-dough-bay” – I love that!).
But let’s break it down even further. Did you see the part about “secular,” and “SELF-OBSESSED”? How incredibly narcissistic (read: SINFUL) of me is it, no matter the very real external pressures of our society, to spend so much time thinking of only me – how I look, what I weigh, the size I wear. I wonder how many other women satan has ensnared with this same inward-focus. I say “ensnare,” because when my mind is full of me, there’s no room for you, for the “you”-niverse of others that God has called me to love as I love myself, which, as you can probably imagine, is a LOT.
What would it look like if I turned the time and money I spend worrying about and fighting with my weight in to time and money spent serving other people? Or advancing the Kingdom of God? You know what they say: “if you want to be free from yourself, just look outside yourself.” I’m sure that’s true. I just have a hard time diverting my gaze from the one I see in the mirror. The more I think about it, though, the more that I believe that's the key to my escape.
There’s no neat little ending to this entry. This is mostly because the battle is ongoing. Tired of living in “the cage,” I’m trying to write my way out of it, like those jailbreak movies where the inmates, little by little, dig a hidden tunnel that they hope will ultimately lead to freedom. And, as Christians, aren’t we also to be free?
God, You came to set us free, yet I am in bondage. Free me from the narcissistic grip of thinking first of myself. Release me to live in elusive contentment. Help me to esteem others better than myself, and forgive me for my obsession with self. In Jesus’s name, Amen.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
my RUN-derful cousin
To know my cousin Lori is to love her ... and to wonder how in the world one person can be so blessed. She's beautiful. She's hilarious, and when we were in junior high, she had a closet full of clothes by Camp Beverly Hills. Jealous yet?
If that weren't enough, she's also naturally thin, and NOW?! Sister friend gets to go to Disney World ON THEIR DIME. Who says you can't have it all?! Making Lori all the more lovable is that she's the most down to Earth person on the planet, as humble and friendly as she is abundantly blessed. It's a good thing, too, because if she weren't, I'd HAVE to hate her! Instead, I absolutely LOVE her - and not just because my Mayme makes me.
But back to more important things - the Disney thing. This year, Lori was elected from an ungodly number of applicants to serve on the Walt Disney World Mom's Panel. She's the runDisney specialist, meaning that she goes to every Disney race, competing in most!, and helps other runners plan their trips to do the same. Her position on the Mom's Panel also means that she gets to do really awesome things, like run with the guy who invented P90X and be interviewed by ESPN's own Sage Steele.Don't believe me? See for yourself.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Christmas Cards Come but Once a Year
There are a million reasons why I love Christmas. The music, the presents, the way my dad looks in his favorite holiday sweater. One of my favorite things about Christmas, though, is checking the mail every day and finding a stack of photo cards from friends far and near. This year is no different. Taped around the entryway to our living room (just the way my Mayme did it!) are the bright and smiling faces of folks Jeremy and I hold so dear.Another thing I hold so dear, however, is the idea of finishing - finally! - the wedding-related thank you notes that I still (shame on me) have to write, so instead of adding another stack to my already lengthy list of correspondence to-dos, I've decided to do the unforgivable and go all techno this holiday. Here, in place of a piece of mail, are mine and Jeremy's warmest wishes for a merry Christmas that leaves you thinking, "oh! What fun!" and is full of family, laughter, and love.
And you can look out for an actual "piece of mail" as soon as these thank yous are written ... maybe Valentine's Day or, at the rate I'm going, the Fourth of July!In the meantime, merry Christmas, Y'all!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
the Proof is in the Pictures
Have you ever heard a director say that “99% of good directing is good casting”? In other words, if you hire the right people, your job is easy. Blame it on six zillion years of theatre training, but that’s the mentality I took with me, as I planned our wedding. I knew if I hired the right vendors, I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.
And, as it turns out, I didn’t – worry about a thing, that is. Not surprisingly, that old director’s dictum is right. From the beautiful invitations, thank you notes, and programs created to perfection by Brooke Rainey Designs to spot-on floral arrangements by Adina at Frilly Bloomers, I was THRILLED by (and so grateful for) the work folks did on behalf of me and Jeremy. Add to the paper and flowers a breathtaking big band (Equinox Jazz), incredible cake maker (Kathy & Company), and weather so wonderful it could ONLY have come in answer to a million and a half prayers, and the end result was a day that, in my admittedly biased opinion, could not have been more beautiful. 
Luckily for Jeremy and me, we will never be able to forget it! Another amazing vendor was on tap to capture the entire event. Cristobal and Kathleen Perez, co-owners of Azul Photography, put their Pulitzer Prize-nominated talents to work and produced pictures that make me laugh, cry, and feel like the luckiest girl alive. 
At the risk of being that tacky hostess who makes you look at her vacation photos (though, honestly, since when has THAT stopped me?!), I’m posting a slideshow of some of my favorite shots here. It probably won’t surprise you to know that I’ve already watched it about sixteen thousand times. Each time I see these images, though, I am dumbstruck by the thought that that woman in the white dress in those pictures had absolutely no idea then just how amazing a man she was marrying. Jeremy truly is better than I even imagined.Sweetheart, as Dorothy wrote 81 years before we ever even met, “I know why I’ve waited / know why I’ve been blue / prayed each nite for someone / exactly like you.”
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Seventy Three-Seventy Two...Close for Comfort!
I really wasn't all that worried. Going in to last Saturday's clash between my hue of blue and Jeremy's, I felt pretty confident my Cats would pull it out - after all, did you SEE Carolina against UNLV?! Or how about the way they had to battle from behind to beat the Wisconsin Badgers? Add to that the Cats' clicking defense and a hyper-charged home crowd, and I felt pretty positive about retaining the bragging rights I'd won in the 2011 Elite Eight.
Then came the game. Suddenly, the 'Heels didn't seem to suck as much. Trying to be a good sport, I'd lean over to Jeremy and say, through clenched teeth, stuff like, "Y'all have really taken us out of our offense" or "you can tell they've really been throwing up the threes in practice this week." What I was really doing, however, was buying myself a little good will - hoping that he'd be as kind to me in the aftermath, as I was (trying to be) to him as the battle raged.
For those who've never experienced it, there is a distinct difference between watching a game with a Wildcat and watching one with a Tarheel. This became clear to me early on in our relationship. Jeremy and I were at a NCAA Regional game in Charlotte last March. The 'Heels were playing Washington when I first noticed this disparity between MY people and his. MY people are painted up, jacked up, fired up, voices united, screaming, shouting, slapping hi-fives to strangers one second while cursing a missed free throw the next. 
His people, on the other hand, behave at a ballgame the way most folks do at a classical music concert. We're all t-shirts and cheek tats; they're cashmere and sweater vests, or, as former Florida State baller Sam Cassell put it, they're a real "cheese-and-wine crowd, kind of laid back."
It's that way at home, too. I scream about every possession as if it's our last. "TERRENCE JONES, YOU SUCK" is immediately followed by "Nice shot, TJ. Now RUN THE FLOOR, and DO NOT let Marquis Teague handle the ball!" Jeremy sits, calmly watching while his beloved Tarheels take missed shot after missed shot, and the most rambunctious I have EVER seen him get is when he musters a single, spirited, "Come on, 'Heels" as they start their surge.
It really is phenomenal that two fan bases with equally impressive basketball legacies express their excitement in such drastically different ways, and no where is this difference better expressed than in Danny Nowell's brilliantly-written "Lexington Diary."
Nowell is a Tarheel. Following his passions for basketball and bourbon, Nowell attended last Saturday's game and described it thus, "As the game started, the atmosphere in the building became as electric as any I’ve seen. We in Chapel Hill are as passionate about our Heels, but we carve opponents’ psyches with our condescending dignity; Kentucky concusses you with blunt-force excitement."
And last Saturday's "blunt-force" was as exciting as it gets.
Great game, Baby. We'll see you in April, and when we do, remember all that "good will" I built up at Rupp, okay?
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Happy birthday, Huntybutton!
Mayme & Pop weren't able to make it. Luckily for them, however, Aunta's camera WAS!
For you, Mom & Daddy, here are some shots snapped (and footage filmed) as Lila turned five!
Click here to view these pictures larger
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Go, Big Bluth!
Then again, they probably weren't watching THIS on their iPhone while working out:
One question, though: why was I thinking of GOB Bluth the entire time?
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