As I focus on framing food in terms of health, calorie-counting, carb-phobia and the like have no place in my life. I know what my body needs to be full, I know what my body needs to be strong, and I know what I enjoy eating. It truly makes me happy to eat things that grow from the earth in their natural and unprocessed forms.
Along those lines, I also like to push my body to its physical limits because a) it feels good, b) it maintains my cardiovascular system and rejuvenates my body and mind, c) it's the only way to alleviate my anxiety.
Recently at the gym, I was offered a free personal training session in an effort to get me purchasing packages again. I gladly accepted, having fond memories of my old trainer.
Then I met "Mr. T"--who has to walk with his legs unnaturally spread apart because his behemoth leg muscles are in the way of an ordinary gait. He might as well have had "steroid junkie" tattooed on his ass.
Don't get me wrong, I appreciated Mr. T's friendly personality and challenging weight-lifting regimens. But then it crept up--the ubiquitous and dangerously self-deprecating attitude toward "health" and "sex-appeal."
My favorite quote was "You could stand to tone your outer thighs."
What is more intriguing to me is that he views this "honesty" as being a good trainer--as if through policing the contours of my body and pinpointing my perceived weaknesses, he could offer me the golden keys to perfection, improve my life, and boost his commission.
Bitch please. I am so sad for that drug-popping, bench-pressing addict who likely spends hours every day pumping iron to make sure every single muscle in his body is grossly over-developed--not to mention he likely suffers from male body dysmorphic disorder. The sad and petty misfortune of obsessing over the exterior only indicates internal unfulfillment with life and self.
More to point--I am as healthy as they come. I live a life of of fresh vegetables, fruit, legumes, whole grains and nuts, with some fucking fabulous vegan cupcakes to get my goat when I so desire. I am very fit, and you know what? I'm incredibly intelligent, ambitious, and extremely sexy. In fact, my thighs have their own natural, healthy and strong shape, which if they were to change significantly (smaller and toner, as Mr. T would like), that would only be an indication of unhealthiness.
Newsflash: all bodies are different. Real health looks different on everyone. I have a fabulously round ass--I will never wear an itsy bitsy pair of jeans.
This warped idea of "health"--the hard and ripped size 0-2 that all women "should" have who work out and eat well--is statistically false and realistically ignorant. It's so sad to watch people chase around bull shit instead of enjoying their bodies and their lives.
Not to mention, if a person is unhappy with my outer thigh (how lame does that sound? I laugh even writing it), that person has no place in my life--and especially in my bed.
There was a time in my life when Mr. T's comments could have devastated me--but now, I feel proud of myself, proud of my body, and sad for the people who suffer the way Mr. T (and our culture at large) surely does.
Needless to say, he is not my new trainer.