So, I got an email that asked, ‘Do men care about cellulite?’ I saw red.
“Can’t we stop putting people in boxes?” I thought. “I am sure there are men who care a lot, and others who couldn’t care less.”
Also, I continued, I like the look of a well-toned guy. Who doesn’t? But that doesn’t mean I can’t love the guy with the one pack who loves me when I am sick, grumpy or unpleasant, as well as when I am at my best. Men, oddly enough advertising people, are human. They are not all the same. Just as I feel that way, I am sure there is a reciprocal thought in men towards women, or other men (let’s include the gay community here, men and women, and everyone else in-between).
I posted something to this effect on Facebook. Then I thought some more. I realised I ad fallen into the trap I had been moaning about. That’s the appearance first trap. Naughty, naughty, naughty me.
I’m with JK Rowling on this one: “Is fat really the worst thing a human can be? Is fat worse than vindictive, jealous, shallow, vain, boring, evil or cruel? Not to me”.
Our society is so geared to surface – how you look, what car you drive, what clothes you wear, who you hang out with. It’s crazy and it’s hurting us.
For years and years, for various complex reasons, I have felt inadequate – not good at maths, not pretty enough, not clever enough, not quick enough, not fit enough. I sat up nights as a primary school kid, wondering why I was not “as good” as my younger siblings at maths, sport, school in general. That’s sad. I am sad for little me.
For me it makes sense that emotional upheaval has physical outlets, and enough emotional upheaval, especially in a sensitive person (which I believe I am), can cause serious illness. Seven months of therapy has opened my brain to letting myself just be me. Sounds crazy, hey? Thing is, I haven’t let myself be me for a long, long time. It’s fun.
Letting myself be me means accepting that I am not perfect. Sure, I can strive to do better next time, but I don’t have to beat myself up this time. I just have to learn. I’m enjoying letting myself be me. It’s hard wovrk. I have to constantly remind myself. It’s also fun, and I kind of like New Me, who is more focused on enjoying herself than rupping herself apart. You should try it, if you haven’t already.
Delivered. 