At the conclusion of my last post I promised to return by Friday, at the latest, with something funny.
Well its Sunday, I'm late. I have a few stories to tell but my head is stuck in some heavy stuff as the result of my friends death.
In a desperate attempt to hold your attention, I am reposting 7 Seconds of Bliss. It first appeared in July of 2010.
Because I am a deserving member of THE INSECURE WRITERS GROUP, I've tweaked it. Interestingly, I took a lot out. I used to try to stretch my work but I'm learning that less is more. And because ongoing life experiences force growth, I've updated it.
7 Seconds of Bliss
Let's pretend that this is me.
For the past 9 years the end of summer is reserved for Burning Man preparation.
Figuring out what to wear is half the fun. I'm NOT one of the naked ones. I make a lot of my costumes. I start with a fun fabric and see where it takes me. No patterns or logic required. The more outrageous the better.
This year I fell in love with a pair of pants I found on Etsy. A ruffled, "forgiving" stretch pant.
The seller labeled them "fun and flattering" and I believed her.
When I can't locate the fabric online or in the city, I order the pants on Etsy.
The following day, the seller emails me asking for my waist and hip measurements. I wait for a "less bloated" day but when that day doesn't come, I dig out the tape measurer.
Alone in the house, I close the curtains, dim the lights and lock the bedroom door.
I am instructed to give my hip and waist measurements. I know my waist is smaller so I start there.
I am pleasantly surprised by what I find. Not only am I capable of reaching allll the way around my waist, but with a measurement of 23 inches, I am only 2 inches larger then I was when I was in my 20's!
I remember wearing a terrycloth headband as a belt back in my aerobic instructor days.
So begins my 7 Seconds of Bliss...
I have been WAY to hard on myself. Starving myself. Denying myself of a little bit more of this or a bigger piece of that. Tonight...I'm having cheese, and lots of it!!! And wine, plenty of wine!!! With a 23 inch waist, why bother with the sit ups...I'm going to sit back and pour myself another cup of coffee - maybe put some cream in. I'm hungry, what should I have for breakfast?.... maybe I should get the pants in 24 inch waist, give myself a little extra wiggle room.
and there... my 7 Seconds of Bliss ends.
I was holding the tape measure upside-down.
I have a 32 inch waist.
I measure again...
I measure AGAIN
32 if I suck in
31 if I pull tight
30 if I hold my breath, stand perfectly straight, and pull hard
This can't be. It must be a defective tape measure.
I start from the left and count each inch. They are in order.
I grab a ruler and measure the tape measurer. It lines up fine.
I skip breakfast that morning, have black coffee and stay on the treadmill for an extra 15 minutes.
And then I did something bizarre...
I stood in front of a full length mirror - naked.
I'd be lying if I told you I was pleased with my reflection. It is far from perfect.
As long as I can remember, I have been unhappy with my less than peak physique.
In my teens, it was my small breasts.
In my 20's it was my big thighs.
In my 30's it was the cellulite on my thighs.
In my 40's it was the cellulite on my ass.
And now that I'm in my 50's...
I need to learn to appreciate my body.
This body allows me to stand and walk pain free.
And, I can run. Not the marathons I used to, but I can still run.
And, I can twirl. I've been twirling a baton for over 40 years. Sometimes I light it on fire.
This body went to trapeze school and hula hooped down Broadway.
This body rides a bike through soft sand and blistering 110 degree heat at Burning Man.
This body recently fit in a very small box (see Out of the Box).
This is the body of a funky, free spirited woman who refuses to give up cheese and wears forgiving jeans.
At 52, I need to celebrate how my body has rewarded me.
The last thing my friend of 37 years said to me, the one who died and who's funeral I just attended, was...
"stick that in your pipe and smoke it, you fat ass bitch"
Well, this fat ass bitch is forgiving.
This fat ass bitch wore a double layer of SPANX at your funeral.
And this is where my next story begins.
Green Monkey Tales © 2010 Shannon E. Kennedy