Wasted Years

So, understand

Don't waste your time always searching for

Those wasted years.

Face up, make your stand,

And realise your living in the golden years.

Iron Maiden - Wasted Years

We could call this a belated resolution for 2015, but it's going to take some explaining. You, my readers, seem to enjoy it when I have a bit of a rant - watch this space. It's going to be a rough crossing!

We as people are no stranger to the fact that, like it or not, we're bombarding by advertising. In the field of health and beauty, that advertising does only one thing: it reinforces the narrow societal standard of what health and beauty look like. There is no variation, it looks one way and one way only. If you don't look that way, well, you don't have a place in this society, peasant scum!

In my early twenties I not only became vastly more aware of the existence of this standard, but also became far more cognizent of the fact it is a huge problem unlikely to be solved any time soon. I then set about putting a lot of effort into rejecting it.

Firstly, I'm 5'3". No amount of exercise or wishful thinking will make me supermodel-tall. I'm also British and typically British-woman-shaped. Even if I carried not even an ounce of spare on my legs and backside, they'd still be the largest part of my body. My frame is built  that way, and years of horse riding, skiing, swimming and plenty of other activities have created a fair amount of thigh muscle that won't shift in a hurry. Since I booked my first lesson in returning to horse riding this weekend, I'm not exactly doing anything to disencourage maintaining that muscle.

Why am I telling you all this? Because recently I've noticed I'm back-sliding on all that work on rejecting the tsandard and being happy with me for me. I don't think I can pinpoint when this started, but it's been creeping up on me for some time now. It's finally reached the point where I can't really pretend it isn't there any more.

When in a reasonable mood, I can easily say this has been compounded by inability to really exercise for a couple of months post-surgery, a tendency not to eat properly for those couple of months because I was eating what was comfortable and easy to chew, and spent a fair amount of time swinging between no appetite at all and wanting to do this:

(Image from thisfelicitouslife.wordpress.com. Original "X all the Y"meme from hyperboleandahalf)

In some part it stems from a time last year where I put a fair bit of weight on. Being me, it went to one place and one place only. In my no doubt slightly skewed view, my arse was well into the realms where it could consider applying to have its own solar system with a more than reasonable chance of success.

I appreciate to some people that would be no bad thing. I however have always been very bad at accpeting changes in my shape as they don't occur very often. So infrequently in fact that I have no idea what to do save fly into a state of mild panic.

Hey, if you're going to overreact you may as well commit.

Now, I've lost all that weight and I'm about back to normal. You'd assume everything would be fine, but it isn't. I'm definitely still in "not good enough" mode. Now there's nothing wrong with wanting to improve a particular area, but it's more than a little unhealthy when your expectations become inflated and unrealistic, which mine certainly are verging on.

In doing a quick bit of internet research for this post, it astounds me just how many aids there are in feeling unsatisfactory within easy reach of a few taps of a keyboard. Weight calculators which take no account of muscle to fat ratio or general frame before they brand you morbidly obese. "Shape" calculators which are frankly nothing short of insulting unless your measurements result in "hourglass" - which we all know is the only valid shape if you're a woman and want to take up space on the planet. I'm a person and not a piece of fruit, thank you very much (I get "pear" shaped as often as not).

I think the point I'm circling around here is really one of just how insidious this sort of thing is. There is absolutely no such thing as "perfect" but it's surprisingly easy to become overwhelmed with the expectation to achieve it nonetheless. And do you realise what we do each time we buy into the instantaneous flawless skin, effortless weight loss and general impossible "glow" we're sold?

Yes, that's right. We reinforce the standard, each and every time.

I'm not sure if the same can be said of men, but women in particular are expected and encouraged to compete with each other instead of hold one another up. It's often difficult to make an innocent compliment without it being analysed for agenda and hidden intent for this reason. Said expectation not only leads to a lot needless unhappiness, but also to the idea that only one shape or size - the opposite of said standard is "allowed" to feel inadequate. We struggle to accept that everyone has "fat" days, and most people have some part of their body they like less than another and would be willing to change. It's an entirely human thing, and despite what advertising may suggest we are indeed all human.

We would do well to realise that we're all in the same boat. We would do better still to recognise that with a not insignificant personal effort, we can choose to ignore it too.

So, this is my late resolution. I'm going to kick this unhealthy line of thought and work hard at self-acceptance instead. I've managed it before, so I suppose I get the added bonus of having proof it's possible. I'm sure plenty of us have wasted years and years in pointless self-flagellation on this topic.

How about we be a bit kinder to ourselves? You might not always appreciate it, but there's nobody else in the world looks exactly like you - no matter what size, shape or weight you might be right now, because those three things will be fluid throughout your life.

We should maybe remember that this in itself is something worth celebrating.

(One this note, a new motto: "I have a Bridgeburners top, therefore I am by default mind-blowingly fabulous"
That should work.)

Don't mind me, I'm going back to swearing at Ebay in my attempts to find a new dress for Valentine's Day. Why I do this to myself I'll never know - I HATE shopping.

Anybody have any thoughts on this topic? I'd love to hear them. Did you make any similar resolutions?

Wishing you all many spoons xxx

Rainmaker

"You tell me we can start the rain

You tell me that we all can change

You tell me we can find something to wash the tears away."

Rainmaker - Iron Maiden

I did something today which sounds small, but as a gesture towards the well being of the inside of my head I think it was deceptively momentous. 

I threw out all the clothes which no longer fit me or aren't comfortable post developing my array of chronic quirks. For the most part this means I've turned my back on jeans and given up on trying to fit into everything I used to wear with ease to just to try and prove a point to myself.

I know, it sounds like nothing more than a part of a normal spring clean. I just realised part way through that this was me finally letting go of my old body. Whilst I've moved forward in my thinking with my limitations, my dietary issues, the aches and pains and all the other symptoms themselves, I hadn't until now quite moved ahead with how I felt about the changes to my body.

Filling that bag was piece by piece putting all the worry, anger and upset away and affirming that I don't need it any more. Subconsciously I suspect I'd been clinging to the hope that somehow I'd wake up one day and my shape would have returned to what it once was, which was as foolish as it was unhelpful.

I've said on numerous occasions my only consistent pain relief is exercise. Now, when your diet doesn't change or maybe even cleans up a little and the amount of exercise you do increases, one of two things happen. You lose weight, or you build muscle. I've never carried very much in the way of excess weight so this left me with only the latter option.

The beginnings of a visible six pack? That I can live with and some days I'm even slightly proud of it. And to be honest with some thought, once the initial "Oh good lord, more leg muscle means bigger thighs" anxiety passed, there's nothing to be ashamed of in legs with a bit more shape to them - even when unplanned.

It occurred to me that fighting with very close fitting garments when you possess an alarming tendency for bloating was only ever going to be a losing battle and only served to be a stick I could continually beat myself with.

Well, said stick has been made into kindling for me to burn at my leisure.

The reality is whilst it's the only thing that works I cannot afford to let up on the exercise, and given that my body adjusts I seem to gradually need to do more of it to achieve the same effect. Given that these changes are only going to continue and it's about time I commanded the reins of the chariot of my confidence and swapped the horse of positive self image into the right hand harness.

So I don't look like I used to. Why does this have to be a wholly negative scenario? It doesn't, but for some reason I'd let myself believe it did. If you use the internet with any regularity you'll no doubt have seen plenty of body positivity messages about loving yourself flaws and all - as with many things it turns out it's an ever changing learning curve. Just because something changes doesn't mean you can't like the new as much as you did the old.

This seems a little wide of the mark in terms of relating to illness, but I assure you there's a purpose here. I've always believed your mental well being is one of the most important aspects in allowing you to find how to cope with chronic illness and all the challenges it brings. Allowing myself to keep raking over the same ground with my self image let the thought become insidious, and it started to have wider reaching effects on my overall outlook.

What brought all this introspection and new resolve on, you ask? I bought myself an Iron Maiden dress. Reading the measurements I realised the changes would actually make it a better fit rather than a more difficult one.

(The rather lovely handiwork of kittyvampdesigns on Etsy.)

When you find a lovely dress you can't help but fall in love with and unintentional muscle development will make it look nicer than it may have done previously, there are only two things you can do.

Accept and embrace the changes, and buy the dress just as fast as possible.


Has anyone else had issues with self confidence and self image as a result of their chronic ill health? How did you overcome it?

Wishing you all many spoons xx