I realize that people do care about weight loss/ being in shape/ healthy eating habits. So do I–I’m not bashing that. I also realize that it’s just not that easy for some. I’m just commenting on how it seems so many people are going crazy with the dieting and exercise to achieve that "celebrity" level of physical perfection…it’s all they think about, and when it doesn’t happen for them, they feel ugly and awkward and inadequate…I’m guilty of it, too, though, but this is just me ranting and raving. Gotta do it every once in a while. ~Toni
Looking back, maybe I could’ve prevented it.
This whole thing.
This rant. It was probably my own fault.
Maybe my shoes were too hot pink.
Maybe if my hair wasn’t so greasy, it wouldn’t have shined so in the sunlight.
Maybe I caught his eye with my "I’m a hot and sweaty mamma-jamma pushing a stroller uphill in 90 degree weather–don’t talk to me" attitude. Whatever possessed that nasty construction worker to yell out to me–rather enthusiastically I might add–this afternoon on my walk with Mia, I will never really know.
Normally, I’m too busy huffing and puffing and wishing I were home eating chocolate instead of participating in this form of self-torture known as exercise, but today, the utter uniqueness of this comment caught me off guard:
"I bet you could hold me upside-down if you wanted to!"
I’m still a little baffled–what the hell did that mean?
I couldn’t help but laugh. What creativity!
In all actuallity, I should be upset. I am not the type of girl to get blatantly hit on, especially when I’m looking less than my best. And I’m what you would call a little short for my weight. So I’m quite sure this guy was messing with me. Unless he had really poor eyesight–in which case maybe he should hold off on buying his precious Skoal for a while and save up for a pair of glasses. Then he wouldn’t have mistaken the layer of back-fat I got goin’ on for rippling muscles…
I could’ve settled for "Hey, nice legs!" or even the generic, all-purpose whistle. Or anything less confusing than that upside-down line.
All of this went down about 10 minutes into my hour-long walk, so unfortunately, I had plenty of pondering time left before I made it back to the house. Rather than get myself worked up over the Joe-Dirt-On-Steriods (and when I say "on steriods", I mean only the mullet was longer and the teeth were fewer), I became enraged about the diet fads and workout crazes of today.
I get so tired, and literally so sick, of the words "trans" and "anti-oxidants" and "organic" and, my personal unfavorite, "bad carbs vs. good carbs". I want to be as healthy as the next person, but not to the point of where I can’t enjoy a good peanut-butter and sprinkles sandwich every now and then. The way I see it, I should be able to exercise regularly and eat what I want to eat, within reason, of course, and my body will be what it is meant to be.
If I have a little underarm jiggle, well, then I have a little underarm jiggle. If my bootie doesn’t fit into a size 5, I’m not going to cry. It’s not like I’m a freak because I’m not a Jessica Simpson clone, and I’m not going to work like a madman to get there. I don’t want to be one of those people that knows the scientific name of every muscle of the body and won’t rest until each one is fully developed and perfected. I’ve never met a spendidly happy dieting/workout monster.
I’m not encouraging anyone to chow down on a bag of Double-stuffed Oreos every night for 3 weeks. I’m just saying that it’s probably okay to have a little pasta, or eat a little yogurt–it’s not going to kill you. Like my friend INKA said, "I’m so over trying to be a toothpick." Yeah, me too.
I’d love to see magazine headlines with words like "Kind" or "Thoughtful" more often, rather than "Gorgeous" and "Sexy". What are my girls going to get from that?
Must. Remember. Inner beauty.
Alright. I’m done.
This message was brought to you by the brick-laying, off-the-charts-Redneck working in my neighborhood today. Thank you, thank you.
And yes, I most likely could hold you upside-down if I wanted to.