loose change

the inaugural may monday piece! feeling alarmed at the passage of time. i feel like i am in a blink-or-you’ll-miss-it period. also a blink-and-your-car-registration-will-be-overdue, blink-and-your-medical-bills-will-have-doubled, blink-and-you’ll-spend-half-of-your-tax-refund-on-a-parking-ticket, blink-and-your-first-graders-will-be-second-graders, blink-and-your-left-hand-will-NOT-be-100%-functional-by-june, blink-and-you’ll-be-on-a-plane-to-the-east-coast-with-no-control-over-your-long-list-of-administrative-tasks-in-california. slowly (not quickly enough) i am gathering myself and slowly i am beginning to check things off of my list. not quickly enough!

so hard to remain in the present when the future is imminent and relatively unclear. i am thinking about anxiety a lot this week. thinking about the way anxiety attaches itself to the easiest target, commonly the things that have very little to do with our stress under the surface. thinking about the way we all deal with little worries, the way that little worries compound into general unrest. wondering if little worries are even necessary. what’s the point of worrying if you don’t worry BIG? god forbid i waste my worry on small things. (i do it on the daily)

i want to embody mary oliver. sometimes i wake up in the morning and consider my worries. if i do, i immediately see her lines in my head: i worried a lot. i never see the whole poem. i just see i worried a lot, and skip right to the end. i took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang. rarely can i muster up the singing bit, but the thought is there.

the poem contains both uncertainty and resolve at once. she published it at 75. it resonates with me at 25. i wonder about this. i feel so young still and yet i feel this pressure to be established as a human being in the world. i feel this pressure to be Older, more mature, more accountable, like being Older and gaining years will diminish all of my youthful concerns. i know that the opposite is likely true. the desire to fast-forward through life is so dangerous.

i was buying a six pack in montecito last week on my way home from physical therapy when the clerk asked for my id. 25 25, she said. i turn 25 in september. what’s it like? i told her it wasn’t what i’d expected it to be–is anything ever? i told her i still feel 19, but i’m glad i’m not. she said she’s been told she’ll feel older, more self-assured. i couldn’t really answer that. she said she scans everyone’s id now because of the amount of young women who come in with plastic surgery. she said it’s kind of gnarly, and it’s kind of sad. she said that they all kind of look the same, and they all look older than they’re supposed to at 21 and 22. i was halfway toward the door while we spoke. you’ve got your own thing going on, and you’re beautiful, and i’ve got my own look, and why would we change that?

it’s wild to me that people can consent to elective surgeries so young. i don’t think about it very often, but when i do, i really think. i wonder if it truly solves anything. i think about the doctors who profit off of it. i think about people who look in the mirror at themselves that one last time before the procedure. the next time they’ll see themselves they’ll be bruised, or swollen, in recovery. eventually they’ll see their face as they wanted it to be, but they’ll never look at their old face in the mirror again. i imagine that in most cases, this feels amazing–whatever was changed was once a feature of insecurity, and ideally now that insecurity is gone. i wonder if people who undergo these types of procedures feel renewed. i wonder if they see themselves as a new person. i am sure it varies in every case.

a couple of weeks ago i found myself the recipient of a lot of comments about my body. did you lose weight? you look incredible! i don’t know what you did but wow my gosh. have you been eating enough? you’re starting to look really thin. you need to make sure you’re feeding yourself. have you been working out? i noticed it first in your face! you’ve always looked beautiful but you look so healthy now!

i think i gained weight last winter, after looking the same for a few years. nobody comments on the gain. i knew i’d gained weight because my clothes felt differently, and i didn’t feel great in my body–a little bit of the shoulders-hunched-arms-across-stomach-baggy-tshirt habits started to come back–but i don’t weigh myself very often. mostly when i look at myself in the mirror i just see my eyes looking back at me, trying to compute what the rest of me really looks like.

i lost weight after the wrist surgery because of stress and pain medication. lots of people will comment on the loss. i have come to know the commentary as inevitable, coming from even the kindest-hearted people. it’s supposed to be flattering. it’s supposed to make you feel good. it’s dangerous when it does. the first time i lost a significant amount of weight after high school, i was terrified. i didn’t recognize my body: the body that i’d put so much mental effort into accepting and loving was gone. in its place was this body that was now Something To Comment Upon.

it is impossible to take these comments–compliments–at face value without considering what i looked like before. sometimes i reflect upon high school and middle school and i am shocked at how many people were willing to love me in spite of my appearance. that is a brutal truth to admit. the topic of body image in america is an unsolvable issue. fatphobia is embedded within our society, and it is extremely difficult not to internalize. in terms of health, in terms of the obesity crisis–promoting a healthy diet and an active lifestyle seems prudent. but it is incredibly difficult to do so without invoking social commentary and shame.

we are in this ever-changing era of personal modification. the technology is evolving exponentially faster than our bodies do. so much of it seems to hinge on money. if you grow up in a wealthy family, your access to a healthy lifestyle is as simple as waking up in the morning and going about your day. your food options are likely organic, your parents are more likely to have been educated on nutrition, you’re probably enlisted in after-school sports, your family is likely more concerned about their image. if you grow up working-class or below the poverty line, your food sources likely consist of more chemicals than raw ingredients, your parents are working full-time jobs and cannot take you to sports practice or tournaments, your access to healthcare is more limited. we’ve known for years that the obesity epidemic is the fault of the system, not of the people who are subjected to it.

these cosmetic procedures–the botox, the filler, the lip injections–are marketed to the wealthy. the results of them are marketed to everybody else. we are so familiar with Not Being Enough. it is so easy to remain in that. ouch!

i am lucky to love people who will talk about these things with me without judgment. i am lucky to love people who, if and when they notice i’ve lost weight, will treat the topic with concern instead of compliments. i am lucky to love people who love me because of who i am as a human and not what i look like. this will never be lost on me!

my physical therapy appointment was cancelled today. i was left with these weird feelings of relief and disappointment and concern that this lost appointment will permanently impact my recovery. my mom advised me to stop reading so far into it. i loveeeeeee to read into things!

this piece turned into something way bigger than i’d expected. truthfully i didn’t really want to write today, not because i did not want to, i just didn’t think i could. so i’m happy that i did. maybe i am back in the swing of the monday pieces! i don’t have much left in me–it’s been over an hour–so i think i’m going to wrap it up here. surely i have more to say, but i don’t have the energy to keep writing it all out.

next week i hope i write about writing! i’ve been thinking about that a lot too.

regretfully am cutting this piece short (even though it’s RATHER DENSE AND LONG!) and unregretfully i am putting myself into bed! i am Very Frustrated with this show i have been watching (pretty little liars) that is actually Really Shitty TV because it continues to become more ludicrous and far-fetched without providing any real answers to the identity of the tormented and mysterious antagonist. i am about one Shitty Episode away from googling the entire plot and putting the show to rest forever. embarrassing to admit i have watched three full seasons but i think it’s a little leftover coping mechanism from my oxycodone gossip girl phase in february.

Love You So Much if you read even a quarter of this piece–thank you for caring about what i’ve got to say and thank you for holding me accountable (even if you aren’t aware of it) to writing another week! all the gratitude extending outwards–be kind to yourself!

xxo r