Blonde Moments

I was thinking about beauty today...Pretty much like in any God given day, actually...I was thinking about myself and how I relate to it. Where do I fit in on the almighty Scale of Beauty? (can't help but notice how many meanings the word 'scale' seems to have nowadays. Or has it always had this many?). I, just like so many women around the world, regardless of their age, race, cultural, social and intelectual background, seem to have been fighting this neverending battle since the beginning of time. Yeah, I'm talking about the battle with my own body. Body wants to eat cake. Society says cake is bad because cake makes you fat, ergo aesthetically unacceptable. Therefore I am faced with two simple options:
1. No, body! No cake! Bad! Bad! Lettuce - good!
2. Oh alright, dammit, we only live once. You can have some stupid cake.
But what happens when Mind wants cake? You see, Mind is a lot more complex, shrewd and harder to negotiate with than Body. Give Body 15 minutes and it'll forget about the craving. But Mind is like a spoiled child throwing a fit in a crowded supermarket. Or a terrorist holding a large crowd of innocent people at gun point. Mind is almost impossible to negotiate with. And for some odd reason, Mind seems to have a mind of it's own. In most cases, Mind gets what it wants because there's nothing more creative and cunning than a Mind with a craving. "I'll throw in some exercise tomorrow" - On what? The threadmill that you've turned into an addition to your closet? Or do actual jogging, outside, wearing sweats, so that everyone can stop you and tell you (admiringly...or sarcastically?) how strikingly you resemble a slightly overweight version of Peg Bundy when you run on your tippy-toes? Come oooooooon. Here's another good one: "I'll start eating healthy tomorrow. I'll even go shopping and buy only fruit, veggies and ... whatever else skinny people eat" - Image flips and you're returning from the supermarket with a trunk full of a large assortment of devil-food (chips, dips, chocolate, how wings...bla bla). There you go! You won't go hungry for a whole week...day...
So, in the end, after another failed negotiation (I always picture myself in a grey suit, smoking a cigar, looking sweaty and tired, on the phone with my mind), Mind wins. Funny how after it gets it's way, things turn around and it starts pointing the finger at you. That's because Conscience (that bitch!) can only awake on a full stomach. There's no Conscience on an empty stomach. Sometimes there's no speaking in sentences either, but that's another story. So Conscience prepares it's prosecution and there you are, on trial for being weak, lacking will and self respect and of course, for being fat. I didn't know courts allowed Chips, Chocolate and Hot Wings to take the stand. Apparently they do, in matters of weakness, lack of will and self respect and of course, in weight related issues. The sentence is always the same (I dont know who judges this, but they're not very creative, I tell you!): Diet!
Meh! Diet again. What shall it be this time? South Beach (or South Park?)? Montignac? Blood type diet? No carbs? No proteins? No solids? No water? No air? Madonna-Angelina Jolie-Paris Hilton miracle diet (yours for only 99.95)? What? What? No matter which one it is, I won't stay on it for more than 2 weeks, that's for sure. Oh wait, I once went on the Montignac diet for a whole month! Woohoo! So of course, it's considered violation of parole and I'm back on trial. I don't know how come some people have the nerve to ask you to adopt one of those diets as a "lifestyle"! If i did that, I'd never obtain any joy from food for the rest of my miserable little life. I can't do that to myself!
But wait! Our backstabbing friend, Mind, has a backdoor for us (Mind seems to have many things that start with 'back'. I wouldn't be surprised if it had the Backstreet Boys crammed up somewhere in a jar or something). "What is it?" you may ask....I present you the marvelous, the miraculous, the m...something...ous Diet Pills! Ta-daaa! Here's how they usually work: you take one, you feel like crap, you can't sleep, you can't think, you can't get enough water, you can't get your heartrate to go down (a-ha! So that's how it feels when you exercise! I don't like it.) but there's one more thing you can't do. That is, Eat! Yuppers, the mere thought of food makes you ponder hepatite. How lovely! How lovely indeed! Only a few downsides... if you're a really tough cookie and pull through with the whole treatment, you'll get one of these or both: you'll put the weight back on faster than you can say "Look at me! I'm skinny!" and/or you'll be the proud owner of a completely fucked system. Or, if you're lucky, you'll be healthy and skinny, you'll marry Prince Charming and you'll live to be 300. Either one.
That's it for Part 1. Check back regularly for Part 2 and maybe further.
Thank you for your patience and here's a little gift for being such dolls and bearing with my yapping and my typos: