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04.03.2002 - 9:55 a.m.

While I was walking back home from the gym yesterday, I saw a little bird's wing lying on the sidewalk. Maybe torn off by a neighborhood cat or something, I don't know. For some reason, the sight of it - fragile, fluttering in the wind as if its very feathers and sinews recalled the motion of flight - seemed poignant and sorrowful, so much so that my chest hitched painfully and I exhaled a great watery sigh.

Such an insignificant image that somehow haunts me still, like an uncertain portent I cannot interpret.

Well, that's PMS for you. I used to think PMS was sort of a whiny woman's complaint. Yes, there are cramps during, but the week before? What's the trouble, girls? Now I realize all the weird thing that actually happen to me. Weight gain? Check. Facial blemish outbreak? Check. Desire to eat salty things also sweet things also crunchy things also smushy things? Check.

And mentally, I get melancholy. Dreamy. I'm liable to well up over a commercial I might normally find too cloying. I get inclined towards contemplative hair-twirling, future-obsessing. Broken-off sparrow wings take on great meaning.

So, a week of instability, outlook-on-life-wise, plus the added fun of a poor body image. Yay for hormones!


Body image. Have you got one of those? Hopefully it's a good one. Mine zooms all over the board, depending on the usual suspects like diet and exercise, alignment of the planets, etc. I'm always very self aware, though. Sometimes I think that the best thing about being in perfect shape is that you would simply reassign the large percentage of your thoughts that are dedicated to worrying about how you look in your pants/skirt/whatfuckinever and instead use them for something more productive, like remembering how to convert fractions to decimals or something.

However, I suppose it's impossible to reach some magical point where you look in the mirror and give yourself a curt self-satisfied nod and say "There. That's just right. No room for improvement here!" and set off on your new happy life, tra la la, giving nary a thought to how your ass looks as you leave the room.

In fact, the more in shape I feel, the more self-saturated I get. Instead of woefully regarding a squishy belly, which is brief (because how long do you really want to compare your midsection to a blancmange), I'll gaze for long periods of time at an emerging muscle, praising it and encouraging it and making sure it feels welcome. The more in shape I get, the more I think Hey, you got this far. Just a little more work.

I definitely feel better about everything when I'm happier with my body. I'm honestly more apt to keep my house clean and all the random shit in my life in order - it's all connected in some weird discipline-oriented way. But the strive for perfection, well, there IS no perfection.

Being extremely skinny can strongly appeal to me. (Hasn't Hollywood body worship taught us to cast a covetous eye on Calista Flockhart's protruding collarbone rather than exclaiming in disgust how terrible she looks? Isn't every magazine on earth filled with models who are exactly as slender if not more?) I sometimes think it would be nice to be so sparse. So streamlined. Able to choose, somehow, how much space you take up in the world.

But it seems having that body would make you infirm, fragile. I want my body to summit mountains, throw quick jabs, bend into complicated yoga positions.

The more I think about it, the more it seems casting aside your body image would be like losing a longtime friend. Someone you fought with, were disappointed by, and occasionally truly hated - but also someone you were proud of, someone who made you feel good. Someone who sometimes made you slouch and tug at your clothes, and other times made you strut like a peacock and judiciously meet the eye of everyone who passed you.

Besides, what would I really do with all those freed-up thoughts? Probably just make more room for obscure Simpsons quotes.

"And how is education supposed to make me feel smarter? Besides, every time I learn something new, it pushes some old stuff out of my brain. Remember when I took that home winemaking course, and I forgot how to drive?"

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go back ::: forward

04.02.2002 - You know very well the lobster would have to pork the tiger, not the other way around.
03.29.2002 - Let's all just take a moment and wallow in jealous hatred.
03.27.2002 - It was all very Punk and Totally Rebellious. Except that it sucked

0 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

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