Pleasure and new dimensions

I’m 40 lbs past the version of my body with which I am most comfortable and familiar. My thirties have stretched my skin and softened my edges, and I’m learning to get comfortable and familiar with my new dimensions. There are moments of panic, like when I see a picture taken from a strange angle, and think “Fuck all, is that me?” But there are also moments like this, after a run and a shower, where I put on as little clothing as possible to walk around the apartment because I feel strong and healthy, and I am fully inhabiting every square inch of myself, even the new ones. I’m dating again, and I’m a little bit nervous about about my body in a way that I never was in my *18 yoga classes a week* twenties. I don’t have any solutions or pithy quotes about motivation or self-love for you, just this truth: I really love my body, today. And three days ago she felt like a stranger. That’s how relationships work, though.

I will not force her to “diet”, I will not ask her to change, I will not remove from her what brings comfort and pleasure. I will take her on long hikes and slow runs, because that’s how she likes it. I will lift weights so she gets to be as strong as she feels. Sometimes I’ll drink whiskey to help her shoulders drop, and sometimes I’ll drink it because it tastes so damn good. I’ll eat real fucking food. I’ll stretch and move in ways that feel truthful and spacious to my body, because she deserves that from me. Some days we’ll feel like strangers, and some days we’ll be naked together all damn day. We get this one go together, my body and I, and I will love and protect and serve her with abandon because she has never let me down.

As Thanksgiving comes and we are surrounded with bullshit messages from diet culture about all the ways we have to earn our calories, burn off what we ate, be “good”, and every other kind of noxious and toxic noise, let’s practice being in and maybe even trying to love these bodies… exactly as they are.

Our Bodies Know

“It’s interesting you would think you’re that important.”

My therapist said to me in the midst of a snot slinging breakdown over how much I was surely going to let all the people of earth down if I did not show up to __________ (insert literally any benign event here).

“…THANK YOU.”

I replied. A sharp inhale. Slow exhale. Now, snot slinging laughter.

Underneath the self abnegation was Ego. Ego who needs to make sure people don’t think I’m flaky. Ego who demands I project total selflessness and loyalty at all costs. Ego who would say to my Body, doubled over in pain, unable to right herself for the intensity of the abdominal cramps, that we must not let them down.

Ego was doing a job the best way she knew how. She’s been beaten over the head with the propaganda of perfection and projection and “put on a happy face” and “suck it up” for 32 years. You said you would be there, so you will be there. Because underneath Ego is fear. Fear that I will be the subject of hateful gossip and sharp, unforgiving judgement from… who, exactly? The people who love me? Total strangers I will never see again?

“It’s interesting you would think you’re that important.”

It’s also interesting that we, and I’m speaking to the womxn in the room, have so fully ingested the myth of martyrdom that we will throw ourselves into situations our bodies and intuition would reject because the voice of Ego is so loud.

“If you skip this event, (insert imagined, apocalyptic social consequence here).”
”If you change this plan, (insert every person who will be inconvenienced and silently hate you for all of time here).”

Meanwhile, our Bodies know. When my Body signals that something is not for me, I am learning to listen to Her. She knows. The other day, a friend of mine and I were packing for a quick overnight trip to see his family about 3 hours away. I love a quick getaway! I love anything that smells like adventure. But at this particular moment I had been living out of a suitcase for weeks after staying with various friends and family for two months after moving out of my home due to a separation from my partner. So… a lot of moving around. A lot of… feelings. And I had finally landed in the place that would be my home for the foreseeable future. My Body let her guard down. She relaxed. I fully unpacked my toiletry bag for the first time in over two months. We would be still.

And then I told her we were going on a quick getaway and She said, quietly at first, “I would rather not.” And I kept packing. A little bit louder this time, “I would really rather stay here.” And then I picked up my toothbrush; the cheap one from Kroger with the red travel clasp over the bristles, meant to keep the brush clean in your travel bag but that had been on my toothbrush for over two months because of all the moving around. That toothbrush. I picked it up to return it to my toiletry bag, the one I had just unpacked the day before, and that was it. Every alarm, every siren, every red flag my Body has at her disposal went off. I got panicked. I started to cry.

Ego was like, “DUDE. WE GOT INVITED ON A TRIP AND WE SAID YES BECAUSE WE LOVE TRIPS AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”

Body replied, “I cannot go. I have been holding onto all this grief, trying to figure out where to put all this fear, keeping us healthy, fighting of a GD pandemic, living in a cortisol shower, making space for those really joyful days y’all loved so much, uncertain of where we are going to sleep from week to week, and you just told me I was safe. I trusted you. I unpacked. I cannot pack up and go again. I cannot do it.”

And so I went to my friend, five minutes before we were meant to leave, Ego raging about how flaky we were about to look, and told him I needed to stay home. He walked over, hugged me, and said, “It’s fine! Stay! You can do whatever you want. I didn’t want you to feel left out, and you are wanted, but no one will be upset if you stay. Stay. Rest.”

And my Body collapsed into tears and we spent the entire weekend on the couch. We rested. We watched Great British Baking Show. We ate easy, comforting food. I thanked Her for all she’s done for me this year and gave her absolutely whatever She wanted.

Our Egos are very invested in controlling what people think about us because our Egos are very invested in keeping us from feeling pain. But our Egos don’t know. They don’t know. They’ll throw our Bodies on the alter of self- sacrifice to keep from losing control.

What is underneath? What is your Body telling you about going to that event? Staying in that relationship? Taking that job? There are nerves and butterflies that come from doing something brave and big, but that’s not what we’re talking about. This is the intuitive Knowing that we are taught to suppress. This is the gut, body Truth that emerges when something really matters. This is your most authentic, truthful, highest Self telling you from within your own Self that your Ego is wrong and you need to do something different. This is your Body knowing.

Notice that. Listen. She knows. He knows. They know. You can change your plan, change your relationship, change your mind. When your Ego demands you sacrifice your own well being for the sake of some imagined other or to avoid catastrophic outcomes of entirely your own design, offer a reminder:

“It’s interesting you would think you’re that important.”

Companion Art:

Poetry Unbound with Pádraig Ó Tuama.
The New Religion, a poem by Chris Abani