Pilates Killed the Romance

I have to write a disclaimer here: this post certainly wont apply to all--I do not know my readers' priorities and could never judge them.

Most fashion/lifestyle magazines today give you reasons and tips to get out of bed and get your butt to a gym. If you want that kind of advice, there is no shortage of it out there. But in my opinion, and as a person who has suffered with and (luckily!) overcome an eating disorder, I think all the rage about physical health these days can be a little, well, mentally unhealthy. So if you even have an inkling that maybe, just maybe, you're fixated on body image more than you'd like to be, this post could give you something to mull over...maybe something to make you feel better about cutting yourself some slack!




* * * * *
“My fat stage.” This is something I have heard almost all women say they went through at one point in their lives. Showing me photo albums, my friends will flip through the section of their freshman year of college, or the months following a break up, and chuckle (with relief), “and this was my fat stage.” My mother never had a fat stage. She is one of those women who complains they are getting chubby and are just, well, not. I remember early in the morning hearing her gasp and shriek as she dipped into the pool. She would swim laps almost daily. I think of myself in the mornings with my most recent boyfriend. These were the moments of highest intimacy. We whispered, although no one was around to be woken up. But quiet speech is just the natural tendency of people in the mornings, so it gives every conversation held at that time the air of a secret. The world does not know you are up yet—it doesn’t know it can ask things of you yet—so you can steal a few extra, precious moments with the person you share a bed with. I realize now that my dad shared the bed with no one early in the mornings. My mom’s side of the bed was empty long before my dad awoke. She was swimming laps. Or running on the beach. Like I said, my mom never had a “fat stage.” She has always looked frail enough to be broken down by a whisper from across the room.
* * * * *
The definition of the word recession is “the act of withdrawing or going back.” My mother had withdrawn her request to be full, and her slender body, along with her empty side of the bed, are testimony to this.
* * * * *
A study done on how ideals of beauty change over time has found that during recessions “older, heavier, taller” Playboy Playmates of the Year are chosen (Pettijohn 1). My parents are divorced now. And my dad has a new girlfriend, measuring at about five foot, seven inches, a size twelve, and sporting a short blonde bob, she is a modern Marilyn Monroe.
"I always liked a little tummy on a woman," my dad says.

Don't be afraid to have a body that's a little unconventional