Ostensibly, this is blog is devoted to the pursuit of physical fitness and not so much to the narrower goal of weight loss. However, since the desire to lose weight was my primary motivator in beginning this quest 12 years ago, for me, the two are closely, and sometimes problematically, intertwined.
Somewhere along the line, I began to believe that if I was thin enough, my body would somehow become more acceptable–both to me and to society, at large. The association between thinness/physical beauty and success/happiness is something that most women–and nowadays a lot of men–struggle with. So in this self-flagellation over proper diet and body size, I am, sadly, very normal. One well-loved piece of advice to avoid obsessing about your weight is to concentrate on what your body can do, not what it looks like. But when a large part of your struggle is frustration at what your body refuses to do, this advice falls pretty flat. These days, thanks to the Botox, my body and I have called an armistice after many years of bitter fighting–heck, I think we might even have a diplomatic relationship in the making! So now I’m going to give this perspective shift a shot.
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Yesterday was a scheduled “off” day at the gym. I ran errands, tried to avoid the allure of even just a teeny tiny bout of cardio, and basically sacked out on the couch. In addition to being bat-sh%$ fanatical about the gym, I have two other serious problems: 1.) an endless fascination with crime dramas (duh, duh) and 2.) a love-hate relationship with weight-loss and fitness shows. Yesterday, I was on withdrawal from the gym so I indulged in the other two.
I know that a lot of people are inspired by the show “The Biggest Loser” and that it’s been instrumental in igniting many Americans’ desire to get off the couch and get fit. I think it’s great to encourage people to take charge of their bodies and their lives, and I applaud the folks who are willing to undertake this challenge in a very public forum. Those folks are far braver than I am: that draconian trainer woman, the skimpy spandex outfits, the colossal scale? I couldn’t hack it. Shoot, I just recently started appearing in public in shorts for the first time in about 5 years, never mind being on television.
But I have to admit: the show drives me berserk.
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You can file this under random unsolicited, and kind of unrelated, advice.
While thumbing through the dead-tree edition of the Washington Post yesterday, I saw this piece from the advice column “Tell Me About It” by Carolyn Hax. I think Carolyn gives excellent advice, while studiously avoiding superior moralizing and condescension. She’s open about her own weaknesses and struggles, and her answers are always honest and well-considered, even in the pressure-cooker online chat format.
This edition focuses on why people will fight tooth-and-nail to hang onto old slights, wounds, losses, and bad habits, no matter how much misery clinging to them brings. The letter-writer calls this insistence on maintaining a state of constant discontent and strife, “triumphant unhappiness.” (One of the best phrases, ever!)
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