More ranting about body acceptance

In my last rant, I complained about size zero and how I'm pretty sure that's a recent invention to make even skinny girls feel bad about themselves (by telling them they're a zero). Well, now I have further proof. I've been watching DVDs of the 1999 show Popular and in it, the skinny mini formerly anorexic blonde cheerleader is a "perfect size two." That's as low as it goes. Never is size zero mentioned, not even on the episode that deals with how they all hate their bodies and want to change and the ridiculous lengths they'll go to get thinner/buffer/bigger boobs/etc. And in that episode, the unhealthy, too-skinny ideal is a size two. So, 10 years ago = no size zero. I hate you, fashion industry, for creating such an evil size.

Now the fashion mags have created a new phenomenon: skinny fat. So even if you're rail thin, you can still be fat if you're not deemed to have a perfectly toned body. While I'm certainly not opposed to promoting fitness and especially weight training (which has great benefits for women as they age and it makes us stronger), some of us could have lifted til our hearts gave out and our gangly arms would have still been thin and shapeless. Yeah, I'm talking about myself. I wanted curves and muscle tone when I was a skinny teen, but it wasn't in the cards for me. I was long and lanky and there was no amount of exercise that could have changed that. So, according to the rags, I was "skinny fat." If that doesn't encourage body dysmorphic disorder, I don't know what does!

And it's not like I didn't give it a shot. In high school, when I had no control over any aspect of my life except my body, I was obsessed with counting calories and working out constantly. Some might call that anorexia, but it never got to the point where I was out of control or way too skinny. It may have happened, but I soon discovered beer and pot and it was a nonstop ride to Gatti Town. Despite my waning interest in any form of exercise and my utter gluttony in all other aspects of my life, I maintained a svelte figure for many years. Of course, I was also doing more active jobs like waitressing and often found myself dependent upon public transportation and therefore walking and biking more. I also had a great metabolism.

My mid-20's hit and the first signs of a slowing metabolism surfaced, although in hindsight, I'd gladly take that mid-20's weight over what I've got now. I spent a year in South America, walking a bajillion miles uphill daily and subsisting on vegetables, rice and lentils, and soon I was back to bobblehead high school weight. That lasted about 6 months after my return to the land of pancakes and breakfast tacos and soon I was filling back out.

I'm now at the point where I fluctuate between caring and not. And the more I care, the worse I feel. So, I'm leaning more toward not. The last six weeks have been so hectic that I haven't been able to exercise at all - or rather I haven't prioritized it at all - and I have been eating like crap. As a result, I feel like crap. Also, a couple months ago my pregnant coworker and I went to a conference and she encouraged me to join her in eating fatty stuff because "calories don't count when you're with a pregnant lady." I continued with this mental charade until I realized that my belly was looking a great deal like hers, and I don't have five months worth of fetus up in there. Also during this time of inactivity, I inexplicably developed tendonitis.

Well, I'm proud to say that today I turned over a new leaf. I had a healthy lunch AND dinner and nothing more damaging than a few M&Ms in between. I just went for a very long, sweaty walk and I already feel less bloated. And the scale? It's staying tucked away because for once, I don't want to feel discouraged. Now it's all about feeling healthy and comfortable in my own skin, no matter what size that skin is. And I may bore the internets with all this a little more than usual because I want to be more accountable for these changes, which means publicizing them. But I promise that does not mean any pathetic Bridget Jonesesque obsessing over every pound lost or gained nor whining about any of it. Screw it. I just want to be happy!

So, that's where I am. Believe it or not, this is the first time in over 2 weeks that I haven't physically felt like ass. Allergies and the congestion so bad I wanted to shoot myself in the head while on vacation have kept me from working out, but now I think that was just another in a long line of excuses. I think I needed to sweat it out! Ugh. And now I need a shower...