Eye of the Beholder: Metabolism Is A Dirty Word

Not directly related but it is about slowing down… Enjoy some vintage, pre-Snookie lookalike Christina.

We’re all warned about it. No one should be surprised. Only a select few can hope to avoid it, those who are biologically immune to the inevitable. Although you should be prepared, it will probably start to sneak up on you, gradually killing your…waistline.

Yes, your metabolism will slow down!!! Oh, the (in)humanity!! How dare my body deceive me and decide to showcase the foods I eat and exercise I avoid! Long gone are the days pizza as a late night snack and/or breakfast is a perfectly acceptable idea. Long gone is the bottomless pit stomach or potential modeling career. (Okay, scratch that. I’ve never been THAT skinny and I’ve always loved food.)

While you may not become a hard-core calorie counter or marathon runner, around a certain age, you start to recognize your choices have repercussions. Another reason being a grown-up sucks. You start to feel the need to rationalize (or excuse) your dietary and exercise choices. “If I do this today, I get to/have to do this tomorrow.” “I deserve a treat.” “I’m not supposed to look the way I did at 20. Life has happened.” “But I’m working harder than I used to. This isn’t fair.” and on and on…

Over the last 3-4 years, my metabolism has slowed down, a steady decline. It was time. I was in my mid-twenties, a fitting addition to a quarterlife crisis. And now my body, the thing I just started to figure out and get comfortable with/in, is betraying me. From acne to muffin tops, some of us only get a few “good” years. After that, we start to the painful and annoying process of denying or excusing.

Personally, I’m an excuser. I revolt against the idea of not having the one food I’ve been craving for minutes, hours or days. My cravings are also rather intense. I’ll eat my weight in “healthier” avoidance foods, doing more damage than the original crave, only to give in to the original crave anyway. My only saving grace and reason I’m not currently 400 lbs is the fact that I don’t crave things often. And I like fruits and veggies. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are few things in the world better than fried potato products and ice cream but I believe that most of the time my brain is on my side, or at least on the side of vanity. Sure, health plays a small, pat-yourself-on-the-back part in it but let’s be real, it’s really about vanity.

However, while I am an excuser, I am also an adult, therefore making me a reluctant denier. There are (many) times something like tres leches or avoiding Body Pump sounds like an excellent idea. And then I look at my…slowed body, pick a part. My wasted Gold’s membership is evident in the middle. Sugar and potatoes evident on the arms and legs. I’d even argue my lack of sufficient water intake could be seen in my face and skin. Add a few gray hairs and it’s official, I’m getting older.

I guess metabolism is as dirty a word as thirty or wrinkle. It’s just a part of growing up (Yay!!!). And every time I want to complain about it, I should try to remember the joys I would’ve never experienced if I ceased to exist the day my body started to betray me.

Sure, I can get in shape. It’s just going to be harder than it would’ve been a few years ago. And who wants to do all that work when you can just complain about it and opt for the 4 piece nugget instead of the 6 and congratulate yourself with a cookie?

~Jo’van

February 5, 2013
Categories: Eye of the Beholder (Self-Image), Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 17 Comments

Eye of the Beholder: I Don’t Want to Look Like THAT

I would’ve used Kanye’s “Workout Plan” but I’m still pissed/disappointed by his VMA stunt.  So….  I’ve decided to go with a new millenium Madonna video.  True, she seems to go overboard but it’s evident she works out.

Over the last 6-7 months, I’ve managed to lose a few pounds and inches.  I don’t know the specifics of both but let’s just say it’s been enough to make admiring my closet a less enjoyable endeavour.  You see I have a shopping problem.  And nothing like unemployment makes you realize the need to use what you’ve got (at least as it relates to clothes).  So rather than add to  and complement what I have, I’m having to figure out what would be tailor-able and pay more just to be able to wear something I already own.

I know that as a typical female I’m not supposed to complain about losing weight… but I can’t help it.  The whole (okay, well maybe not the whole) reason I changed up my gym routine enough to see a change (you know like actually going more than once a week) was that my clothes were getting a little snug.  I wanted to not have to go up a size.  Obviously, I went too far b/c now I’m forced to go down a size (or two in certain cases).  This scenario might be wonderful if I had the funds to replace all those 8s with 6s but that is sadly not the current case.  Thank goodness I have a wonderful tailor.  (For one of my interviews, I HAD to keep my blazer buttoned.  The shirt and skirt were so big it looked like I was playing dress up in my mother’s clothes.  But not necessarily my mother since we’re about the same size but you get the point….)

Aside from clothing adjustments, my weight loss has caused a number of people to speak out, either in support or lazy envy.  No one is negative toward me.  It’s just difficult to hear a sentence start “You look great” and end with “but look at me.”  Sure, we all have areas we could work on but for the most part, the people in my life look good.  (But I won’t deny we could all benefit from a few extra hours at the gym.  Flat abs don’t just appear and jiggle-y butts don’t suddenly firm up.)  However, in these and similar scenarios, I always wonder if people are saying those things b/c they believe them or b/c they’re hoping I’ll disagree.  Do I feed into the obvious set-up for a compliment or agree with their assessment (whether I really agree or not)?  Either response could be bad.  So I generally opt for the silent shake of the head “No” and smile.  Anyone can read into that what they like but having that conversation with someone like me could be potentially dangerous, especially if you pick the wrong side.

I have to admit that it’s interesting that my weight loss has prompted others around me to feel more comfortable to point out their faults to me.  Flabby arms, extra butt cheeks, non-pregnancy pouches, whatever.  It’s as if they project their insecurities onto me.  Obviously I too must have been unhappy with my own reflection to change it as much as I have.

My roommate recently made a comment that just made me laugh.  She’d been off in her own world thinking about something when she suddenly turns to me and asks “Is it bad that looking at someone else makes me want to work out?”  It took me a second to realize what she’d meant and then I just couldn’t help but laugh out loud.  I’d made similar comments for the last few years and been told that I was just being mean.  It was reassuring to have someone else say it out loud.

You’re not necessarily judging the other person.  You don’t know their situation.  But when you see someone else with a lot of extra fill in the blank you just might think to yourself “I don’t want to look like that.”  You’re not saying that person should change or that there’s even anything wrong with their fill in the blank. But you are realizing that you’d personally like to avoid that size of a fill in the blank. You don’t think you’d “carry it well.”  Arms that continue to wave after you’ve stopped, ass cheeks that spread to your hips, love handles you hate, fupas, cellulite (no explanation necessary), whatever your case might be.

There are only three ways to handle that situation.  Regretfully accept the evolution of your own fill in the blank, exercise and diet/eat healthy (I refuse to “diet”), or rely on drugs and/or tactics to limit your food intake.  I hope that no one makes themselves sick and understand that some evolutions just have to be accepted.  But I also realize that I am 25, single, not a mother, financially able to eat healthily, and physically able to exercise.  I don’t really have any excuses.  So I had to stop creating them when my pants didn’t fit anymore.

Excited that I actually have a waist now,

Jo’van

September 21, 2009
Categories: Eye of the Beholder (Self-Image), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Eye of the Beholder: Apples, Pears and Bananas

Alternative title: My Body: More than the Sum of Its Faults

(I couldn’t resist.  Gotta love Youtube)

Like any normal, American woman, I’ve had issues with my body image.  And by issues, I mean minor annoyances.  I’ve been blessed enough to not feel the need to go to extremes.  When I was skinny, I accepted being skinny.  When I had a roll or two, I just had a roll or two.  Deep down I knew my issues were minor.  But nothing’s truly minor to a 14-year-old, 19-year-old, or even a 25-year-old.  You just debate whether the pain and cost of doing something about it is worth the benefits.  In my case, it never seemed to be.

Growing up, I, of course, saw the same models, singers and actresses everyone else did.  They were all beautiful because someone else said they were.  But in my head, Whitney Houston was gorgeous b/c she could sing (despite the ridiculous crimped blond wigs).  Naomi Campbell was intriguing b/c she would’ve failed the paperbag test miserably and everyone still loved her.  Cindy Crawford was cool b/c no one seemed to care she had a mole, oh, excuse me, a “beauty mark”.  Madonna had a big gap that no one seemed to notice.  I found these women and countless others interesting because we were all supposed to pay attention to what they could do and not the small things that would’ve been hinderances to people in the real world.

As I got older, I began to identify with women and characters who suffered the same ill fates as I did (or what I considered to be ill at the time).  Storm was my favorite X-Men, not b/c of her powers (although controlling the weather would be pretty cool) but b/c she was tall, slender and black.    (Don’t even get me started on Halle Berry being cast in the movie.  I love her but she’s SHORT!!!)  Kate Hudson became cool in my eyes not b/c of her skills but b/c she’s rather flat-chested.  The Jet beauties were interesting b/c they always had big butts.  Tyra Banks never lied about her weaves.  (I’ve never had one but I understand the desire.)  Etc…

Most of the women I’ve named are black.  This is not to say that I don’t see the Catherine Zeta-Jones, Angelina Jolie, Jennifer Lopez, Lisa Ling or Heidi Klums as beautiful.  Of course they are.  But they’re just not who I generally measured myself against.  What was the point?  My mother worked very hard to surround me with milk chocolate-skinned, dark brown-eyed and raven-haired dolls, pictures, barbies, books, etc.

I went through a brief phase of imagining how much easier it would be to be blond and blue-eyed but I emerged content to be brown.  Next came the feeling of not being black enough.  I seemed to lack the desirable attributes of black women.  Instead of full, luscious lips, my top lip all but disappears when I smile (think Jim Carey’s Fire Marshall Bill from In Living Color).  The voluptuous coke-bottle figure lovable even with a little extra padding completely missed me.  With my small chest, no-existent hips and lack of waist, I was much closer to the $1.79 2-liter bottle.  As puberty ended, it became apparent I’d never be a Jet Beauty or Cover Girl.  While missing out on those particular careers was fine, the sad truth was still sad.

You see genetics had not been as kind to me as they could have been.  The women on either side of my family are uniquely beautiful.  Faces aside, you have apples and pears.  My mother’s side of the family generally rocks the apples.  Red delicious, granny smith, pink lady, take your pick.  Top-heavy w/ smaller bottoms and, dare I say it, skinny legs.  That shape may not be everyone’s ideal but it is what I saw growing up and expected to resemble.  My dad’s family on the other hand were the classic pears.  Petite tops and small waists poised upon “thick” bottoms.  While one side struggles to find button-ups that don’t gap, the other struggles to find bottoms that fit the ass AND the waist.  I could’ve been the classic coke-bottle, big-little-big.  Instead, and in keeping with the fruits, I ended up a slightly deformed banana, straight up and down with a butt, only one of the desirable curves.  :- ) This realization was only worsened by a “harmless” comment my mother made during my teens.  “I used to worry I’d have to chase the boys away with my family’s top and your dad’s bottom.  But now, I guess I don’t have to worry.”  Thanks, Mom.  It’s all pretty funny now but not 10 years ago when I was 15.

To be fair to her, the boys weren’t all that interested in high school (or college for that matter).  Between going to a small school, being a smart-ass, and strongly resembling Steve Urkel, no one had to worry about me and the boys.  This complete lack of attention (despite my “amazing” outfits haha) probably impacted my self-esteem more than I’d care to admit.  Rather than just accept it for what it was, I gave them excuses.  “Well, of course he wouldn’t be interested in someone who looks like a 12-year-old boy when I could talk to her…”  Colored eyes, longer hair, bigger boobs, a better butt, whatever the case might be.  I’ve since outgrown those excuses.  A lack of interest is nothing more than that.  I’m not interested in every man I meet.  Why should I expect or hope for the same?  But sometimes you can’t help but slip back into asking “why not me?”

So where’s the resolution you ask?  There’s not really one.  Am I stressing as much as I used to about my image?  No.  But I’m also doing more proactively to adapt what I see in the mirror to what I’d like to see.  I’m just too lazy to daydream about changes I couldn’t make with a few extra hours at the gym or a trip to a hairdresser.  I’m cheap and have no desire to go under the knife now that my wisdom teeth have been removed.  If plastic surgery’s the only thing that’s going to make me love the way I look, I guess I’ll have to accept just not hating it.

Realizing why she loves banana bread, smoothies and laffy taffy so much,

Jo’van

September 15, 2009
Categories: Eye of the Beholder (Self-Image), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Eye of the Beholder: Health vs. Vanity

I’m on a fresh gym kick right now.  I’ve had this gym membership for about two years and every few months, something prompts me to re-engage w/ the elliptical machine.  (Usually when my pants are uncomfortable.)  I’ve often said that I go to the gym b/c I like my current wardrobe and want to compliment my closet rather than start over with a larger size.  However, I wonder just how true that is.  Would I be as bothered by baggy booty from losing 23 lbs as I seem to be about the virgin-ing muffin top from gaining those 23 (seeming all in one location) in a year? 

You see the problem is that I was not properly equipt for this particular issue.  From age 4 to about 15, I was an absolute STICK.  Looking back at pictures, it was kind of sick.  No matter what I ate and how little I did, I was thin.  I graduated highschool at 5’9 and under 130 lbs.  Somewhere in college, I filled out and became “normal.”  I can handle normal.  I’ve been told it looks good on me.  I’ll take it.  (It’s very convenient that my shoe and pant sizes are now the same.)

Every time I’ve been back in the gym for a few weeks and see a slight bit of progress, I’m really tempted to just stop there.  I mean I’m just trying to tone up, not lose any weight.  (Well, that is until I really gained more than 5 lbs….)

So, I have bad knees and shoulders.  And I refuse to watch what I eat any more than the short trip it takes from my plate to my mouth.  Yes, diabetes, heart disease, and obesity run in my family.  Yes, salt and butter are my favorite ingredients for any meal.  Yes, I know that genetics are not in my favor.  BUT somehow that collection of facts is not enough to get me into the gym on a regular basis.  But give me a muffin top sighting or mid-30s looking thighs 10 years too early and you’ll soon see me huffing and puffing, breaking a sweat on the leg press with my iPod in its armband and my red Nalgene water bottle at Gold’s Gym.  (Correction: I don’t sweat, I glisten.  And by glisten, I mean sweat like a pig 5 minutes into any workout.  It’s really unattractive but I digress…)

From apples to pears, I see the shape of my future in my family.  And one day I’ll be comfortable enough with myself and/or my body to not immediately react to muffin top.  For right now though, I’ll submit to vanity and work to remain a salted, buttery piece of corn on the cob.  (Shout out to all Iowa babies!!!)

Air kiss (b/c I’m sweaty and stink),

Jo’van

October 15, 2008
Categories: Eye of the Beholder (Self-Image), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

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