A dear lady I know shared with me something personal in which has left me standing still amidst the crisis of our society. She is nearing fifty and has been asking the question when is it going to stop? She gains 4 pounds, loses 4 pounds, but when is it ever going to be okay to be the weight she is? Four pounds, doesn’t seem like much at all, right? However, the dire need, the compulsion, and the programmed intuition, forbids us to be satisfied, happy, content with the size we are. We believe we can be prettier, skinnier, younger looking, however to know that we can become uglier, fatter, or even older looking is a distasteful tragedy, an abhorrence. I don’t want to be that way. I am in constant turmoil. A wrestle within myself and to think this wrestle can filter down to my children, is frightening. I have been running more than half my age. At 14, running to lose weight, counting calories, and weighing myself continually. Now twenty one years later, I am still running, but not counting or weighing, but I am checking and grabbing, flexing and tucking, to see what has changed or what needs to change. When will this end, at fifty, sixty, or eighty? It is going to be my birthday next week and I am going to be another year older. I can’t stop time, just like I can’t stop age. I am aging. I am a product of the seventies, influenced by the nineties, and rage against the machine was a major milestone in my developmental days, however, rage against this age is the symphony I am rehearsing. I have bought into a lie. I have given my self-worth over to a make believe industry that focuses on fairy tales and happy endings. DISNEY. I am not living my life as a Disney movie, but as a realist desiring to to make a difference. Perhaps it is not so much the image of the mirror, but the image of the heart. Our appearance goes deep, deeper than glass, deeper than sand, deeper than fire. Perhaps we really are the image of our hearts. What image embraces your heart?
I am impacted by this lady.
Image Credit: Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec