Riddle Me This

Why have I not touched wheel or needles since Sunday? Seriously. Why?

I think it might be partly because I can’t recreate the fiber high I was on Sunday from having completed my sweater and it turned out better than my wildest dreams AND from being around eight other women who share my same passions.

I also think it’s partly because maybe I needed a break. I pushed myself to the limit to finish my CP(n)H.

And?I think a few days rest is probably what I needed. There is no need to rush anything. Especially knitting.

Do you ever get like that and then feel guilty about it? I used to, but then I realized today that I have no business feeling guilty about doing what I want to do if what I want to do is not knit. I do this for fun, not for competition (even with myself) or to impress people or be a showoff (Except I was totally showing off my sweater, but in a “HOLY SHIT! I CAN’T BELIEVE I MADE THIS! CHECK IT OUT!” kind of way.). I knit because I enjoy it and it is fun. And sometimes it’s ok to take a break from fun.

I’ve been having epiphanies about this kind of stuff lately.? Not just about knitting either. About a lot of things in life and it’s been very eye opening and it’s been EXTREMELY?liberating.

Like the fact that at one point I might have been exercise anorexic (for lack of a better term). I was at a place in my life where I thought I was happy for the most part. However, I was obsessive compulsive about running daily. Seven days a week. I didn’t run for hours at a time, but I would run at least 20 minutes a day every single day of the week without fail (At one point I was running twice a day, 20 minutes at a time). I had this unbelievable fear that if I missed one day it would all go to shit and I would become Jabba the Hut. Seriously. My brother would tell me every time he saw me that I was too skinny and I would just laugh and tell him he was crazy. He wasn’t crazy. I was. But I didn’t see it then. Everyone else (including myself) thought I looked great. However, when I look at the pictures of myself back then, I find it a little scary at how overly defined my cheekbones were and how much my collarbones protruded at times. And I find it scary that at the time, my brother was the ONLY ONE who thought I had a problem. No one else noticed. That is how skewed our ideals have become. How skewed our ideas of beauty are. And that is TRULY scary.

I eventually stopped running because my desire to breathe outweighed my desire to run. I have exercise induced asthma and was using a steroid inhaler daily just to run. I’m pretty sure that’s not really healthy in the long run, either. After I stopped running, my diet changed quite a bit and I ate a lot of crap. So between quitting running and starting to eat a lot of crap, I gained weight. I became the thing I feared I was going to become: ugly*.?And for a long time, I’ve hated myself for it. I let people’s comments about the way I looked affect me more than I was willing to admit. The way I dressed really reflected that. And as I related in this post, I haven’t always had the best support when it comes to body image.

You want to know the kicker? I’m not ugly. I’m not some hideous beast that should live in sewers and that people cringe when they look at me and think I’m a blight on society. That was all in my head. My husband tells me on a daily basis that I am not fat or ugly and that he loves me just the way I am. And you know what? I didn’t believe him. And that is a truly sad thing. Because you know what? He is right and he was being honest and truthful with me. He didn’t change the way he treated me or loved me or even looked at me. I did.

Then I found Shapely Prose and my outlook on myself and my body has changed drastically. These ladies have really challenged my way of thinking about myself,?how I view myself and why I think the things I do. Some of this stuff I knew for fact and some I knew?at at least a subconscious level, but seeing it written out in plain English by someone other than myself made a real impact on me.

I’m not the only one. I am not alone.

Here’s the crazy thing about when I was at my smallest size:

I am somewhere?in betwee?5’2″ and 5’3″. According to “the standards” I should weight no more than?95 – 125 lbs tops. A “healthy” BMI range is between 18.5-24.9. Well guess what? At my smallest, I wore a size 6 and weighed between 130 and 140. So technically, I was still overweight. My BMI was in the healthy range, though. And you know what? I didn’t look healthy. And for being a?”good skinny/thin size” I was sick more often and ALWAYS TIRED. I would fall asleep around 8:30 p.m. every night and struggle to get up at 6:00 a.m. Tell me how that is healthy. Because I don’t think?it is.

So I have come to realize over time (last several months) that maybe I wasn’t as healthy as I thought I was and maybe I really wasn’t in the best shape, either, despite how I looked. Do you know when I look?my best despite what size pants I wear or what the scale tells me? I look my best when I love myself and have confidence in who I am.?Because when I do that? Everything else comes together. I take an interest in how I dress and carry myself. I feel good about myself. And I like me. And it shows. THAT is when I look my best.

I?think it’s time I made some promises to myself that I will do my best to keep:

1. I’m not going to beat myself up because I ate something tasty but maybe not healthy.
2. I’m not going to beat myself up because I didn’t exercise 7 days this week.
3. What I AM going to do, though, is be healthy.
4. I’m going to make a better effort to eat foods that are good for me and taste good to me.
5. I’m going to be physically active at least 3 times a week.

That’s it. I know there will be times when I break one or two or all of these promises to myself, but I’m hoping that when I do, I’ll remember that it’s ok. And that I’m human and there is no one but me to answer to when it comes to this stuff, regardless of what judgment other people may pass on me. If I am confident in myself and my body and love who I am inside and out, then FUCK THE REST OF THEM. (“Them” being anyone who tries to tear me down because I don’t conform to their standards of beauty/thin/skinny/whatever.)

I am?not a conformist. End of story.?

*ETA: Ugly as in I am fat.

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