ladymirth

According to this BMI calculator, I can only safely afford to lose approximately 2.3 lbs unless I want to be classified as underweight.

This should be cause for celebration, but I can't believe that all this flab I consider superflous, prevents me wearing sleeveless tops and makes me obsess over my flabby stomach amounts to only 2.3 lbs. There has to be a mistake somewhere. Otherwise, it'd mean I'd need to be underweight to acheive my dream figure. *sadface*

Or build a lot of muscle. And those resistance training exercises are kiling me as they are.

You know, what I really have got to make my peace with is the fact that no amount of exercise will leave me looking like Carmen Electra or somebody. (Not that I want to look like Carmen Electra, or would be able to without breast implants even if I did, what with that rack she's got) Especially since I refuse to diet and my primary intention remains being as fit as I possibly can.

I was born with this body shape. Not for me will be the long, glamorous legs or hourglass figure. I have a pear-shaped body, with short, rather stumpy legs and wide hips. For a body that has no glaring defect nor disfigurement, and has been functioning rather awesomely for the past 21 years, it has been severely underappreciated.

But you know, this whole "accepting yourself for who you are" deal is a rather tough one. Mostly because I'm vain and jealous and superficial and I think it's really unfair that I'll never look as good in a mini-skirt as some of my other leggy friends, who never had to work out a day in their lives to do it either.

I dealt with my confidence issues by learning to be as presentable as I could be, which culminated in me becoming a certified clothes-horse. It has nearly crushed my innate nerdhood and turned me into a young Carrie Bradshaw (without the shoe collection and raging nymphomania). If I ever earned for myself rather than mooched off my parent's savings account, I'd have a similar "substance abuse problem" all set and ready to destroy me. I have been known to set aside The Hobbit in favour of surfing clothing catalogs on-line. I feel like a spineless sell-out and a traitor unto nerdkind. Tolkien would cast me from his altar in shame.

And yet, the clothes are so pweeety! *sob*

It doesn't help that I have an appalling amount of clothes already, that my make-up bag has six different kinds of mascara and is roughly the size of a professional bridal-dresser's and that my boyfriend probably wouldn't care if I was twenty pounds overweight and regularly wore gunny sacks.

Why am I doing this to myself? What am I trying to prove and to whom?

I wish I could have dealt with my insecurities like Hermione Granger did. She got over her buckteeth and big hair and social ineptitude by reassuring her sense of self-worth through intellectual acheivement and annoying the hell out of everybody in a ten-meter radius.

Notes to self:
a)Do not read fashion magazines. They corrupt your mind and feed your immortal soul to the corporate hordes. It's just a form of legal wallet-snatching.
b)Stop plaguing everybody with your fitness kick. You're just trying to indulge your vanity self-righteously anyway.
c)Shut up identifying with fictional characters. It is high time you got your pathetic girl-crush on Hermione Granger out of your system and moved the hell on.

And on that firm note, I shall go to bed.

Swear to God, if I come across one more woman who tells me she's on a "watermellon diet"/ eats only an apple for breakfast/ is eating only one meal a day, I am going to totally lose my shit and throttle her.

What the fuck is WRONG with you people?!

I'm not being a hypocrite. I worry about overeating and obsess over my flabby stomach too. But my solution is to eat moderately and folow a steady workout regimen. I also use those hours I do not spend on friggin' Facebook to use the famous information superhighway to do a bit of homework on how and how far I can lose weight and tone down.

These women? The very mention of gym is anathema to them, they reject any technique that won't lose them 30 pounds a month and they come up with crazy-ass techniques they concoct in their own little heads - like eating only watermelons for lunch. Why? Because going to the gym is "too hard" or "too expensive".

*kicks something*

*breathes*

You can't be bothered to go to the gym, or you can't afford to go to the gym, but you can afford to starve yourself to death? And if a gym IS truly beyond your budget, then why not just do some basic stretching and aerobic exercises every day for twenty minutes?

I'll tell you why. Because the women of our day and generation are not trained to give a rat's fart about actual, long-term health. What they ARE brainwashed into believing is that their lives are worth much less than a person who can look good in a sheathe dress.

Call me a grandma, but I don't understand the modern concept of beauty anymore. The stick-thin creatures that are allowed to strut down the catwalk on TV makes my stomach turn. They are gaunt and hollow-eyed, and look vaguely like Aushwitz survivors. How people can compare THAT to a round cheeked, bright-eyed girl with some meat on her bones, I have NO idea.

But that's just me. Yes, stick-thin is attractive to some people. Plump is attractive to others. That's because beauty is a subjective issue. It's all in the eye of the beholder.

What's NOT subjective is good health. A healthy person is someone whose every organ fuctions at optimum capacity, be it their immune system, flexibility or brain power. How each person arrives at this point is subjective to their own unique bio-chemical make-up. Methods that work well for some do not produce the same results for others.

Here's an article that can explain the basics of how to gauge your state of health better.

Bottom-line, the main reason you exercise or diet should be to BE HEALTHIER. Losing weight is not always indicative of better health.

The point of living is to enjoy ALL the good things in life, not just a two-piece swimsuit. What the hell is the point of looking good in a swimsuit if you can't ever binge on pizza or stuff your face with chocolate occasionally? (Actually, gorging on junk food once a week while on a diet IMPROVES your metabolism and makes your diet more effective.) And it's not just food. What about the thrill of discovering just how strong and lithe a machine your body is? What about the sense of acheivement that comes from pushing yourself to swim just that one more lap when you feel about to collapse, and the thrill when you can FINALLY touch your forehead to your knees? What about knowing you are pyshically strong enough to land a significant punch on a guy who can't get that "no" means "no"?

You are missing out on half your life. Why? Because you want a 28-inch waistline in 20 days. Or because everybody else and their grandma's poodle thinks you should have a 28 inch waist. Which is even worse.

I will say it again.

My dear, dear, sisters, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!