{ you look terrific }

{ HEY GIRL HEY }
here's my sunday stripes and flippy hair and perfectly purple-magenta-pink nail polish color half-smiling at you. one of the ways i've slowly (slowly slowly) worked through a good share of heavy shit over the past few years is by learning that when each day feels like a slow battle trying to get over some things and to other things, indulging in very simple pleasures can get you through some of those long hours. over the past year i've been learning about being generous with myself on a lot of different levels. i'll elaborate more later...but here i'm toasting you with today's simple indulgence: a tall salted caramel hot chocolate (it's nonfat/no whip, but it's an indulgence nonetheless and every sip was delicious).

{ CHECKING IN }
my soft resolutions are going okay. this past work week, i bid the day adieu with the glorious pages of a real book from the local library one night, and laid in bed staring at the glow of my phone or computer way too late two nights. so you win some, you lose some --- i don't hold myself as strictly to this soft resolution on non-work nights. i did go to bed at 10pm friday; that counts for something, doesn't it? (yeah, it counts for being a loser. i know.)

i made what i'm going to call a "kind choice" (meaning it arose naturally out of a true desire and includes a disinclination to beat myself up or take on huge amounts of guilt if i deviate from the original plan) to do something active every single day of january. so far i've been able to keep this informal promise to myself and i feel great about that. there have only been a couple days i've really thought about not doing it, but in the end i decided to stick with it not out of a fear of failure, but a genuine positive impulse to incorporate some sort of movement into my day no matter how depleted i felt. things like this are funny and irritatingly predictable: the more you do them, the better you feel, the easier it is to keep doing them. (i suppose i'll take a healthy self-perpetuating cycle --- even if it makes me grumble at its perky, happy reality.)

i spent 4 hours today preparing food for this week's dinners. halfway through, pots simmering, oven firing, countertops littered with jars and spices and knives, i realized that cooking is (finally) starting to come naturally. i still consult recipes and check measurements, but i'm starting to be able to make something out of a bunch of other things without standing there paralyzed trying to figure out the perfect timing of every single little tablespoon. this is another thing to feel great about, and i do.

{ I AM NOT FAT }
during today's yoga practice i arrived in tadasana after having shaken my way through four breaths balancing on my right leg as i held the inner arch of my left foot behind and above me with my left hand and reached forward with my right hand. the instructor said, "close your eyes. find your breath. notice how you feel."

my thoughts were as follows: i feel sweat running down the left side of my neck. that is gross. i feel the waistband of my pants digging into a roll of flesh (albeit a much slimmer roll of flesh than it used to be, but a roll of flesh nonetheless) on my lower abdomen. that is disgusting. i suck. and these pants suck. 

earlier in the session, i'd been given a few different versions of a more difficult pose to choose from; one of the things i like most about the instructor is that she encourages me to challenge myself at an attainable level so as not to frustrate myself out of trying again. despite my usual tendency to go for the highest level of achievement in any given area and burn out if i can't excel pretty close to immediately, i've been surprisingly comfortable attempting the beginner's versions with the knowledge that if i continue to practice consistently, one day i will be able to do the "real" poses. but today i watched her contort her body into the various options and didn't even try...the words, "nope. can't do that. i'm too fat," escaped my lips in a flat, defeated tone.

honestly, it's frightening what a misplaced strip of elastic (and misplaced for good reason, since i'm bending and breathing and twisting and stretching every which way) can do to my mind. my clothing fits me better than it ever has, but the stupid waistband that just happened to lay a certain way because i was exercising made me aware of a yet-untoned part of my body, and i was catapulted efficiently into the tarry briar patch of self-loathing.

after several minutes in shavasana, i flipped over and consulted my twitter feed, where i found this post and was firmly drawn back to reality (truly i say unto you: please read it if you haven't already seen it somewhere on the internet).

i am not fat.
nor do my pants suck, for that matter.
oh, and --- it's okay to sweat. it means i'm trying damn hard and there's no shame in that.

-----------------------

So be sympathetic. Everyone is facing her own battlefield in her own manner. And the only way you can express empathy about another woman's vanity IS TO BE HONEST ABOUT YOUR OWN.

Once you have reached that place of authentic honesty about your own struggle, you will only ever show kindness toward your sisters.

So here's what I do.

When I see a woman who has lost weight, I say, "You look terrific."

When I see a woman who has quit dieting and embraced her curves, I say, "You look terrific."

When I see a woman who has obviously just had plastic surgery, I say, "You look terrific."

When I see a woman who has let her hair go grey and is hanging out at grocery store in her husband's sweatpants, I say, "You look terrific."

Because you know what? If you are woman and you managed to get up today and go outside, then you look terrific.

If you are still here, then you look terrific.

If you are able to go face down a world that has been arguing about your body and your face for centuries, then you look terrific.

If you have figured out what you need to wear, or do, or not do, in order to feel safe in your own skin, then you look terrific.

If you are standing on your own two feet and the stress of being a woman hasn't killed you yet, then YOU LOOK TERRIFIC.

{ Elizabeth Gilbert }