Cat’s gained weight. Yet she doesn’t mind as much as I do when I’m scolding myself.
Today as I sat in a nice, warm bath, I was pondering my perpetual state of anticipated change. It started like this: “Around this time last year, I weighed about 30 lbs. less.” We all have been told that the only certain thing in life is that life is uncertain and the world and everything we know about it will change. We, ourselves, will change. Some people have a problem with this precept in and of itself. However, it amazes me how many more of us actually accept this fact all too willingly to the point where we let it run our lives.
For example, think about the fact that every woman you know is trying to get to some idealized weight (except maybe your Grandma–likely because she’s reached enlightenment). We crash diet and exercise and join support groups–and watch Oprah–in an attempt to capitalize on this change which we know is going to happen. We know change is coming, and that we cannot control whether change happens or not, so we seek to control what type of change comes our way. Not only is this vain attempt somewhat like trying to put the kittens back in the box, in seeking out this control (through Sephora, Michael Kors, or other such nonsense), we completely miss the point.
The point is this: acceptance of change requires not only an acceptance of the inevitability of an evolving reality, but also an acceptance of the inability to control change–even the properties of which are constantly in flux.
Imagine this:
Right now, where you sit, suddenly something happens and you are stuck–forever–as you currently are. Same clothes, same hair, same weight, same family, same job, same friends, same zits. You are powerless to alter any piece or part of your physical existence. (Suicide is not an option.) For the rest of your life, you will see your neighbors, coworkers, and hot dog vendors wearing the same clothes day after day, with the same whiteness of teeth, sporting the same shoes, carrying the same purse, wearing the same up-do, pushing the same cart, faxing the same forms, over and over again. Your job would ever be the same job. Your spouse or partner would never change their ways (any of them).
Think Groundhog Day–except everyone knows it. Basically it’s Today lived over and over again with slightly different situations, but mostly the same reality.
After about day 2, you would not care what anyone was wearing anymore. Those cute shoes would no longer be so cute. That dumpy gray sweatshirt would not be as repulsive. That red sports car would be nice, but you would know that it was not destined to be yours. After about day 7, even that nagging habit your husband has would seem unimportant to squabble over, since of course, it can’t be changed.
How would your day be if you were not constantly trying to trade up? It amazes me how we have multi-billion dollar industries built on our insecurities and wanting to trade ourselves in for better models–all of the makeup and aging creams and mid-life-crisis-mobiles. AND we have multi-billion dollar industries built on making us feel better about ourselves at the same time–self-help books, meditation classes, yoga, psychiatry (apologies Blueberry Cat), life coaches…
My tub-thought was this:
If I was blind, the first thing I would want to see would not be the latest fashion trends.
If I was deaf, the first thing I would want to hear would not be gossip.
If I was confined to my home and unable to walk, the first place I would want to go would not be the mall.
If I was lonely, the first person I would want to see would not be Dr. Phil.
What my “firsts” would be all have to do with people who are special to me. I would want to see, hear, and go to my family and friends. And ironically, to me, they are stuck repeating one day. I love them in their stripped-down-bare-bones forms. I don’t care what they wear or how high their stilettos are or how up to date they are with the latest music. I love them for the genuine people they are–not for their eyelash lengths.
Anybody who is noticed for any of these superficial reasons, really is not cared about at all, for they are something to notice. Not someone.
Therefore,
1. Recognize that you are Someone. Not just something. We often object to the objectification of human beings yet we do ourselves such disservice. You are not a store-front mannequin.
2. Be kinder to yourself and love yourself the way others love you (and yes, you are loved). Go back and read the old birthday cards your friends have sent you. Dig out those graduation cards from years back. And take to heart the messages written by the people who see you for who you truly are.
3. Take compliments. Hear compliments. Either from friends or strangers, don’t be so quick to brush off kind words and yet let harsh words fester. Why yes, you do look great today. Take this an extra step and compliment yourself. Appreciate yourself as you would appreciate others. And do it aloud–so that you can actually hear you. Hearing words makes them more real.
4. Don’t believe what the tabloids say. As little as I care about Brangelina’s new babies, I care even less about grocery-line beauty advice. If they had any real secrets, they would not be trying to sell them alongside the Snickers bars. And the advice wouldn’t be changing in every new month’s issue.
5. Less is more.
The Cat realizes her coat is beautiful every day of the year. All she has are her coat, her eyes, and the shape of her face. Yet she is lovely. As we are lovely. The only difference is that she is adored because she knows it, and seeks not to change it.
After all, attempting to control anything would take away from her time in the sun.
And we must have our time in the sun.