Keto.
Paleo.
Whole 30.
Low Carb.
Shakeology.
Each time I walk into our small, windowless lounge for lunch, all I hear is the talk of diets. I understand that we are eating food, and so at times, we will talk about the pieces of nourishment that we decide to ingest and perhaps also, the reasons why we picked those particular foods.
But every day? Really?
It's not just at my current job I've noticed this ritual. I've worked at retail stores, factories, restaurants, and now at a school as a teacher, and it is always the same. The men eat by themselves away from the women who converse about their eating habits.
"I love Keto. I just always felt like I was in a fog, and now, what a difference!"
"I've lost 30 pounds since July, and I haven't done anything different."
"I'm eating these shakes every day because I need to lose a few pounds. After having our last kid, I just can't seem to get rid of these last ten pounds or so."
I sit there quietly, eating whatever I have packed for work that day while my skin tries to crawl away, begging me to move and come with it. I sit through this ritualistic torture because I am not from here. I've only lived in this state a few years. This town and community is small, close-knit, and I, as an outsider, am trying to make some connections. With my job, it's important and necessary. Eating in the lounge with co-workers is supposed to help me make friends, right?
Yet, for my own mental health, I wonder if I should take breaks. Often during these episodes, I simultaneously experience two emotions - anger and pity. I feel sorry for these women that all they can think to talk about is weight and food restrictions. They focus on their appearance, where often I am flabbergasted that they would punish themselves, especially after something as amazing as bringing a human into the world. I feel sorry because we live in a society that values a woman based on her looks and often, her thinness. So, we buy into this idea that our outer appearance is what our world should revolve around, even if we don't consciously make that decision.
And that's what makes me angry. The culture, and more appropriately the patriarchy, has subdued women. Take a look in any given store from Target to department stores, the majority of clothes and grooming supplies are targeted towards women. Men can have one bottle in the shower that is body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. It can do it all! Whereas the options for women go on for aisles and aisles at stores. It's hard to get away from that mentality when it's everywhere. Also, it's terribly expensive.
I cannot say I am exempt from this mindset. I own makeup, perfume, and a closet full of clothes because most days, I like to look and feel pretty. However, being aware of this problem, makes me place less worth on my looks, and I've had to or else I would have fallen down the rabbit hole.
When I see these women discuss diets day in and day out, I wish we could talk about families, books, movies, shows, traveling, WORK, basically anything else. I long for genuine conversation.
Where are our minds?
Where are our stories?
Again, my anger comes from how long and purposefully the world has been diminishing female worth by trying to ascertain value based on appearance alone. Ladies, we have to do better. How much energy do we use on what food goes into our bodies? How much time do we use being unhappy because we are not as skinny as we want to be?
I'm a large, curvy, plus-sized, whatever word you want to use, woman. My body has always been an outlier and assigned less worth because fewer men deemed me desirable. As a young girl, teenager, and young woman, I let men determine my worth. It is sad, but that is how I was raised. I can remember my mother's words to put on makeup before I left the house. I knew what mattered was how I looked when I stepped out the front door, how others saw me.
No longer.
Now, my worth comes from my mind, which I am always exercising in different ways, but mostly with books. I love the vigor that comes from an academic discussion or a civil argument. A side effect of placing less value on my appearance is learning to love my fat body, including the things it can and cannot do.
That's what it all comes down to is acceptance. Accepting ourselves. Liking ourselves. And hopefully, loving ourselves too.
Because in the end, there's gotta be more to life than dieting.
Paleo.
Whole 30.
Low Carb.
Shakeology.
Each time I walk into our small, windowless lounge for lunch, all I hear is the talk of diets. I understand that we are eating food, and so at times, we will talk about the pieces of nourishment that we decide to ingest and perhaps also, the reasons why we picked those particular foods.
But every day? Really?
It's not just at my current job I've noticed this ritual. I've worked at retail stores, factories, restaurants, and now at a school as a teacher, and it is always the same. The men eat by themselves away from the women who converse about their eating habits.
"I love Keto. I just always felt like I was in a fog, and now, what a difference!"
"I've lost 30 pounds since July, and I haven't done anything different."
"I'm eating these shakes every day because I need to lose a few pounds. After having our last kid, I just can't seem to get rid of these last ten pounds or so."
I sit there quietly, eating whatever I have packed for work that day while my skin tries to crawl away, begging me to move and come with it. I sit through this ritualistic torture because I am not from here. I've only lived in this state a few years. This town and community is small, close-knit, and I, as an outsider, am trying to make some connections. With my job, it's important and necessary. Eating in the lounge with co-workers is supposed to help me make friends, right?
Yet, for my own mental health, I wonder if I should take breaks. Often during these episodes, I simultaneously experience two emotions - anger and pity. I feel sorry for these women that all they can think to talk about is weight and food restrictions. They focus on their appearance, where often I am flabbergasted that they would punish themselves, especially after something as amazing as bringing a human into the world. I feel sorry because we live in a society that values a woman based on her looks and often, her thinness. So, we buy into this idea that our outer appearance is what our world should revolve around, even if we don't consciously make that decision.
And that's what makes me angry. The culture, and more appropriately the patriarchy, has subdued women. Take a look in any given store from Target to department stores, the majority of clothes and grooming supplies are targeted towards women. Men can have one bottle in the shower that is body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. It can do it all! Whereas the options for women go on for aisles and aisles at stores. It's hard to get away from that mentality when it's everywhere. Also, it's terribly expensive.
I cannot say I am exempt from this mindset. I own makeup, perfume, and a closet full of clothes because most days, I like to look and feel pretty. However, being aware of this problem, makes me place less worth on my looks, and I've had to or else I would have fallen down the rabbit hole.
When I see these women discuss diets day in and day out, I wish we could talk about families, books, movies, shows, traveling, WORK, basically anything else. I long for genuine conversation.
Where are our minds?
Where are our stories?
Again, my anger comes from how long and purposefully the world has been diminishing female worth by trying to ascertain value based on appearance alone. Ladies, we have to do better. How much energy do we use on what food goes into our bodies? How much time do we use being unhappy because we are not as skinny as we want to be?
I'm a large, curvy, plus-sized, whatever word you want to use, woman. My body has always been an outlier and assigned less worth because fewer men deemed me desirable. As a young girl, teenager, and young woman, I let men determine my worth. It is sad, but that is how I was raised. I can remember my mother's words to put on makeup before I left the house. I knew what mattered was how I looked when I stepped out the front door, how others saw me.
No longer.
Now, my worth comes from my mind, which I am always exercising in different ways, but mostly with books. I love the vigor that comes from an academic discussion or a civil argument. A side effect of placing less value on my appearance is learning to love my fat body, including the things it can and cannot do.
That's what it all comes down to is acceptance. Accepting ourselves. Liking ourselves. And hopefully, loving ourselves too.
Because in the end, there's gotta be more to life than dieting.
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