I know I have been terribly remiss in blogging. We are all alive and well. Phil returned from a funfilled Crossfit adventure Training Session in Florida where he also learned to fly the F-22 Raptor. Oh I love long TDY's- he loses 30 pounds and looks so fabulous I can barely keep my eyes (or hands) off of him which is problematic because we have 4 kids and other obligations. Like life. I on the other hand do what I can to maintain my glorious physique- which in and of itself would be a daytime job. But I currently have 1 fulltime day Job(Bella) and 3 partime afternoon jobs followed by my housekeeping service, laundry service, driving service, professional cheerleader and tutor, on call medical consultation and handy person jobs- so there is very little room to work in fitness. And when I get tired of tending to those responsibilites, I moonlight as a volunteer in no less than 3 arenas and from time to time make appearances on online support groups for various conditions that have become part of our daily lives.
Every time I talk to friends or family- which is a fairly rare occurrence and cherished when possible- I am constantly told that they don't know how I do it. This causes me to laugh. DO what? Keep my children from becoming cretins- the jury is still out on that. Clean house- not if you've seen it lately. Ask the ants. Stop by and you will see the baskets of laundry which are my version of practical, functional living room art. This last TDY I thought I would get to some scrapbooking, or some photo editing- yet the only time I ventured to open the roll top desk where I "play" it was merely to shove more stuff under the lid and slam it closed quick before something slid out. Every now and then something slithers out and I have to decide if it's worth shoving back in or if it needs to go. It's funny how clutter accumulates and it can seem overwhelming- yet if a piece slides out from time to time- it's pretty easy to handle. That's life.
I take small steps. I make a point to walk every day. Of course most days it ends up just being from the bedroom to the kitchen to the car to the kitchen, but I try . I don't stress about the number on the scale. Other than the fact that it's larger than when I was 9 months pregnant with my first child. I live by how I feel and if how much chocolate I consume to numb the pain is any indication of how I am doing- you will have your answer. So today I managed a walk with Bella which was cut short because she managed to fall off the ledge at the golf course into the prickly bushes. Twice. The first time was funny. She laughed, I laughed, we decided to not do that again, yet she did. It was not so funny when a prickly gets dangerously close to areas that don't like to be pricked. SO we pack up and move on back home. I stop by the mailbox and the powers that be mock me with the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. Oh for the love of all that is good. Wasn't I tortured adequately with Vicky's swimsuit Issue a week ago with suits that are complete knock offs of my teenage years?
So I sit down an peruse the wares. It is very disheartening. The only girls wearing swimsuits are the amateurs and the athletes. And by athletes I mean women who play athletics who generally get no more mention than a blurb. I wouldn't say the swimsuit models were modeling as much as creatively displaying the product. I still am really unsure as to what the product is. In some cases the product was merely a necklace and a couple of bracelets. Unfortunately my daughter overhears me grumble- that's not a swimsuit, that's 3 shells strategically placed over her hoo hoos. I can hope that she will gain from the statement an understanding of the word "strategic" but I am pretty sure she will only remember hoo hoos. I thought about being offended, outraged at the nudity. But in all honesty, it's about as real as looking at the Sunday comics. Between the plastic inserts and photoshop- I am positive the finished product is far different from the real thing- and then I find out that there is another swimsuit edition out there, from a less likely source. National Geographic. Somehow the irony is so thick. The mag that is notorious for printing nudey pictures under the guise of culture is doing a swimwear spread and the mag that is notorious for printing swimwear pictures is doing a nudey spread under the guise of athletics. Outstanding.
I will not blame SI for negatively promoting/destructing female body image. That is up to girls and their parents. We need to take charge of our own perceptions. I don't hide the issue from my kids. I make it clear that I disagree with the lack of taste- not the human form. I also let them know there is a certain amount of movie magic that occurs behind the scenes. The fact is that sex sells and so does shock value. It sells because we buy it. I personally was more disappointed than shocked by the lack of swimwear. I think the body painting section they started a few years back was a genius circumvention of the porn I mean swimwear norms. I'll admit it, we spent more than a little time trying to spot the inconsistencies, if you will. That's the fun- the mystery- the what if. That is sexy. Remember the old saying- why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free? Exactly. Milk has been free for quite awhile at SI Swimsuit edition. If SI is now what Playboy was then , I don't even want to know what crazy stuff they are doing over at Penthouse.
As for my personal body issues- they are mine. I know enough women sporting silicone tatas because their bodies were ravaged by cancer to know that despite that we are more than our breasts- they are part of who we are. I have also run across enough boobs in my day to know that people place far too much value on physical appearance and not enough on the appearance of propriety. As for my daughters- I try not to show them my issues. For all they know I love my body, that doesn't mean I wouldn't change a thing here or there. But I hope to also impress on them that when it is all said and done- your body withers, but your legacy will not. I for one sincerely hope that my legacy in completely unrelated to swimwear.