This may very well be my longest hiatus from blogging ever. It certainly wasn’t planned, but as my next book deadline looms closer (I have exactly a month—eek) I find that I’m completely spent on the word count at the end of the day.
Things have changed shape with my new book a bit, which is one of the reasons I’m so stressed about finishing it on time. What started out as a quasi-academic historical nonfiction look into the evolution of the ideal body throughout human history has morphed (purposefully) into an amalgam of memoir and historical non-fiction. I’ve absolutely loved delving into the research involved and have found out some truly fascinating things about how our different body shapes came to be. Turns out, we all look the way we do for a reason. Our bodies are amazingly adapted to nature. As a species we’re no longer at the mercy of the seasons, but if civilization came to an end and we all reverted back to our early days as cave dwellers each one of us would be uniquely adapted for different areas of Earth. I’ve also discovered that dieting is a fairly new thing in human history, but being heavy is not. For the record, there have always been fat people; 100 years ago not everyone was naturally svelte. The 20th century certainly brought with it a more sedentary lifestyle and increased access to energy-rich foods, but we really aren’t so different from our ancestors. I’m not going to give too much away here, though….
The hard part about this process has been talking about my own body image issues. You would think that after writing about my childhood, which was hard but also wonderful, in my last book that writing about my relationship with my hips wouldn’t be a big deal. But my issues with body image are something I’ve never really dealt with. They’re something I dwell on ad nauseam in the confines of my own mind, but not something I would ever bring up in conversation. I’ve often felt like controlling my body was the only thing I’ve ever failed at.
I’ve often used this blog as a place to come to to refocus my good intentions toward myself, because I can be a downright jerk to myself—the kind of jerk I would never even dream of being to someone else. After all, I really believe everyone is beautiful, and size is just size, it’s just our cultural obsession with homogeny that makes it so important. Except when it comes to myself. And in that I feel like a hypocrite, because I’ve spent so much of my career writing about self-acceptance and in writing my new book I realize that my own moments of self-acceptance have been quite fleeting.
It’s certainly a call to attention for me, but also a huge disappointment. I feel like I’ve accomplished some pretty great things in this life, so the size on my clothes should not be the whole measure of my self worth—and yet for much of my life it has been.
My last book was a huge catalyst for change in my life. When all was said and done I felt like a huge weight had been lifted, I felt like I could actually face my past with honesty and compassion and be at peace with it. I’m hoping that when I’m finished writing Beautiful Bodies I’ll have the same.
So, now you know why I haven’t been blogging. But, since my husband nags me every day to update my blog, I will attempt from here on out to be better about my blogging—even after a hard day of writing. I may even attempt to live up to my own tagline: Healthy eating, living, perspective. Because I really don’t like being a hypocrite.
I’m not posting food pics today.