Category Archives: Single Momdom

Body Image, Cellulite, and The Man’s Perspective

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Scale

Scale (Photo credit: vividBreeze)

I’m getting older.  I know this not because I actually know how old I am in years – I am already to that point where I don’t consciously think about how many years I have been alive and often have to do the math to figure out the correct number.  I know this because I had to go buy a new pair of pants the other day because I needed a bigger size.  And when I looked in the mirror (something I don’t have in my room, nor do I own a scale) I saw the cellulite I have seen making its way into the limelight over the past year.  I saw it plain as day, and I was, for the first time since middle school, a bit ashamed of my body.

Middle school was a rough time (wasn’t it for everyone?).  I am still in middle school, as a teacher, and I know intimately that no one wants to relive it.  As a student, I struggled with how others viewed me as much as the next kid, if not more.  I look back remembering the whole time period as angst-ridden about my appearance, when in actuality, there were maybe three incidents that were burned into my memory, forever tarnishing the whole experience.  Magically, I turned a corner in high school and never looked back, consciously deciding not to give a rip about what anyone thought about how I looked.  That is not to say that I did not care about my appearance, but I didn’t ever dress or do anything else to my body to please anyone besides myself.

Until now.  Here I am, for the first time since then, looking at my own body with self-doubt, wondering how long The Man will find me attractive, and if I will continue to gain weight, getting fatter and fatter… Part of my problem is that I never had a weight problem, and never worked out.  Why would I if I didn’t need to?  Don’t hate, please, if you have struggled with weight.  Just like we shouldn’t scorn those who are heavier than us, we also shouldn’t scorn those who are thinner than us.  I had nothing to do with it, it was just how it was.  And now that I really could use the exercise, it is a foreign concept to me, and it has been hard to incorporate into my already hectic schedule.  Something else will have to go if I am to add regular exercise to my schedule, and I’m not sure what I can afford to leave behind to make room.  It won’t be sleep.  That I can tell you for sure.  I will not be waking up earlier than I do, nor will I be staying up later.  Something else will have to give.

In any case, The Man reassures me that I have nothing to fear in regard to whether or not he still finds me attractive.  According to him, while a woman is running through a litany of things in her mind that her man might not find attractive (Can he see the cellulite on my thighs? How about the hair growing out of that mole?  My cuticles in need of a manicure?  That pimple on my nose? My split ends?)  The man looks at her and thinks, “Wow!  I get to touch her boobies!”

Ha!

Take that, cellulite!

Questions

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Lots of questions today.  As usual, in the car.

The Boy:”Why is it just you and me?”

Me: “What do you mean?  Are you asking why your dad and I got divorced?”

B: “Yeah.”

M: “Your dad and I just didn’t get along anymore.  That happens sometimes.”

B: “Are you going to change your last name?”

M: “If The Man and I get married, that will probably happen.”

B: “Will my name change too?”

M: “That’s up to you.  Do you want it to change?”

(no answer)

B: “Are you and The Man going to have any more kids?  Will I get a brother?”

M: “Nope.”

B: “Why not?”

M: “The Man and I are too old to have any more kids.  So it’ll be just you.”

B: “I’m going to have a bunch of kids.  A whole pile.”

M: “Don’t you think you better check with your wife first?”

B: “I’m going to have a lot of kids.”

—

This entire conversation took place in the space of about one minute.  Such heady stuff for a 10 year old.  I sometimes find it difficult not to let my surprise (that he’s asking about these things) show.  These are, of course, things that we have talked about before (OK, maybe not the “pile” of kids thing, but the other stuff).  I think he finds comfort in the consistency of my answers.  That’s my theory anyway.  I hope he does.

A Poet in My Own Mind: “Autism”

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I enjoy writing.  Always have.  I took a creative writing course in college and had a great deal of fun, especially with poetry.  Fun does not necessarily translate into good, so I apologize in advance.  I’m not the type to subject my poetry on others, but when I ran across this poem that I must have written in a desperate moment, I’m guessing about three years ago (based on the Wubbzy reference), I thought it might resonate with others going through similar desperate moments.

Autism

Short

definition:

A neurological disorder…

Long

definition:

Something not quite

right.  Speech delay

Speech therapy, Occupational

therapy (hypersensitive, hyposensitive,

Gross motor – Gross like large not like

yucky, fine motor) From flashcards

to reading two years ahead

Obsess, obsess, Obsession

for months (Pizza rolls every single

night for dinner) (Wubbzy AGAIN?)

laughing, joking, never gets

old.  Still no empathy.

Logical, linear, Spock-like, must

follow the rules, follow the law, follow the

schedule.  No deviation, no changes, no

surprises, no fire drills or we derail.

anticipate, anticipate, anticipate

lay the clothes out, take the meds, follow the

schedule.  Nothing dirty, no holes, no stains,

hide the clothes when they get too small.  Still

might come back to bite you,

kick you, pull your hair, scream, cry, lie

down in the middle of the aisle

suffer the stares, the whispers, the grandma shaking her head, “Mm, mm, mm.”

(must learn that Vulcan death grip – what happens

when he gets bigger?)

What happens next? One day

One day at a time, one day

one day

Breathe, exhale and relax.