Spanking Lies

I am built for famine. My body takes every single extra calorie and stores it away “just in case.” Take the first (and only) cruise I went on: I was gone for a week and came home nine pounds heavier. Yes, you read that correctly: 9 pounds. In a week.

I kept that cruise “with me” for 9 months. Long enough to gestate a baby but all I gave birth to was a lot of self-loathing. Finally, after months of effort, I was down to pre-cruise weight.

But here’s the secret…I had not only lost pounds, I had gained a girdle. So when a colleague said admiringly one week, “You’ve lost weight!” my sheepish-I’ve-been-working-at-it head nod felt a bit like a lie…because I have been working at it, yes, but perhaps working just as hard were my Spanx (well ok, my Target knock-off slimming tank top) that was helping to cinch me in and smooth me all over.

Ladies: let me tell you, aside from having to be an acrobat to get into them, girdles are the best thing since sliced bread. They are like being given a big, tight hug all day. And they may instill you with magical powers! Ancient folklore is full of stories where someone puts on a girdle and they gain strength or protection.

Even so, despite my magical confidence and expanded wardrobe, I worry, as I now just don’t “feel like myself” unless my muffin top is muffled. Is it a lie? Is it the equivalent of using a 5-year old photo on a dating website? Am I lying to the world?  And perhaps more pertinent: since I won’t go back, does slimming the truth matter?

What's Missing?

It is funny the things I miss. It has been nearly a year now and I dearly miss my cutting boards.

I have cutting boards with me now: two white, plastic, Ikea cutting boards, the larger one of which is dishwasher-warped into a sad hump in the middle. They work, they mostly get the job done (I try not to think about the plastic factor too hard), and I as tell myself, they are temporary.

We moved in with my mother-in-law last year after nearly dying in our apartment from Carbon Monoxide poisoning (another story for another day). Many of our possessions, especially my kitchen items, went into storage.

Living life temporarily is a funny thing. After all, this “temporary” is still real life, this moment is it, and while I do miss the actual cutting boards (beautiful bamboo, a smooth finish for chopping), I think what I miss more is the solidness that comes from having everything in front of me and not longing for things.

When I had my cutting boards, I knew exactly what I had. Now, I chop on my too-small plastic board and long wistfully for the boards I remember…but were they really all that?

Is life really better because I had better cutting boards? I think I settle into the longing because it is familiar…when “blank” happens, life will be better. When I am thinner, when I have more money, when I have less debt, when I have more time, et cetera, et cetera. I feel tired from this longing. Yes, I have those cutting boards in storage for the future (and perhaps a smaller dress and debt size, perhaps more money and time), but that doesn’t change this moment, this meal, this day.

Perhaps is it best to just be present. Present to the rough white plastic, the slight rocking of the board against the counter, present to the safe home that I have, the food I am privileged to be chopping, and present to this very moment. All the while grateful that I had the foresight to bring my good knife.



photo credit: http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=901