I (want) to celebrate the me, not yet to come, but the one who is here now who has had a long journey and is a bit tired and always slightly uncomfortable with the way I look.
I always think I’m taller (I’m 5’4″). I always think my eyes are less squinty than they really are (slightly cross eyed–it’s a family trait). But above all there’s my mom body. I was never a thin person nor did I care to necessarily be one. I don’t mind my hips or thighs or breasts or any other areas people complain about. I’m not sure that I love them–I’m not an overzealous person like that.
But I really appreciate the body positivity movement and the women larger than I that have the ovaries to put it all out there. I have the social conditioning of ‘but what if my grandmother sees this?’ that keeps me from doing such things. Sin Verguenza!
But I am envious of that sort of nerve, that sort of power of not giving a shit. I’m writing a book about it after two years of research on the topic. Throwing the Curve, it’s called. I’ve done about a dozen photo shoots now since I started the book. I’ve gotten more confident with myself and my image–even though I look like me.
Another thing throwing me is weight loss. I spent 2016-2017 on book writing hiatus because I was leaving my husband of 14 years instead. That in and of itself is an all consuming job. And we have teenagers who turn into asses frequently which is another full time job. With the depression that comes with knowing your life must change and not having a clue how to best go about it, I did two things: Some days I ate too much; most other days I didn’t eat at all.
And then people would say how great I looked what’s my secret? And I would say depression and divorce. Oh.
They don’t want to hear that. They want to hear about a fat girl’s new found appreciation for diets created by thin people and an adherence to thin people’s exercise regiment. They don’t want to hear that you were a vegetarian for 25 years and know a good deal about food and that you already exercise every day–you just added depression and divorce for that added temporarily gaunt look.
Well then…I met someone. And I’m not depressed and the divorce is final on July 12. And the kids would be asses anyway at their age. And I have good work to do, a play to produce, writing projects and the only thing that depresses me now is the Trump Administration and its crimes against humanity and the environment.
I still don’t know how I feel about my mom body. I’m still trying to embrace this idea about being comfortable with aging. I feel like Gen Xers just don’t buy into the idea of having to dress a certain way at a certain age. Be respectable. Etc.
So this was one from one of my last shoots. There are more of course but this one I really like. It’s the most like me I’ve ever been in a shoot. Minimal make up. Minimal hair. Me. I want to sing the body electric. Right now I’m clearing my throat and the first notes are whisper singing out of my mouth.
Throwing Chanclas 