Fasting is something a lot of us skinny bitches don’t talk about. We don’t want you to know our secrets, because we don’t want you to take what little precious power we possess over ourselves away from us. (Fasting can help the body pass toxicities as you are giving your digestive system a rest).
I happen to have a small skinny frame and identify with skinny girls and the challenges and even advantages, and the challenges arising from those advantages that they/we face, though I do not always participate in being skinny. Let it be known that I permit “fat periods” in my life, or rather those “fat periods” just sort of manifest and I have no choice but to be okay with it, or rather I am quiet and am trying to listen to my body and understand it in those moments.
In any case all I want to do is comment on the fact that I am fasting, and feeling like a responsible wise woman I just want to share what little wisdom I have on the matter.
As mentioned in an earlier post, people shoving their insights down my throat messes with me, in ways they’ll never understand. I feel brave right now. “I am smarter than you,” I want to say to all of those who’ve given me advice on my health over the years, and then held it against me when THEY didn’t see THEIR “intended results.” Well guess what? I’m a woman in the 21st century and there is a lot more to “health”. In fact now there is “healthism” and lots of other sociological and anthropological terms, and there is this thing called sub-culture…
I am not just a skinny bitch, or a skinny little girl, a lean yoga goddess, or a statuesque being.
I am a human girl woman earthling whose lived through the 90’s, “the millennium” been exposed to a shit ton of mind control, INCLUDING the kinds that are supposed to help like Buddhism, yoga, and psychoanalysis, and guess what? I’M STILL THE ONLY AUTHORITY ON ME.
So to y’all who’ve tried to help, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. I wish it were as simple as that. Everyone gets so caught up in their ego and their need to control others. I get it. I’m skinny so I must be unstable and weak and small and have no idea how to take care of myself.
I feel too angry to go on, but as I never like to part ways with my lover on bad terms, I don’t like to leave my writing with unknowns, or confusion. I’m going to take pause, or interrupt myself and comment on the aforementioned lover, insert some Jelena pics and make a few out of place admissions; so much has changed for me in the preceding moments of my life, namely the months, and I feel like everything could come to a really glorious head, and maybe this is out of place but said lover called me at 12:34 which is the time I let people know its okay to make a wish, and that meant so much to me, and I was looking at a photo of Justin Bieber who I think he looks like and boy is he dreamy, as said lover said to me “as long as you don’t go saying I look like Justin Bieber,” and then I laughed to myself because I can’t laugh with a girlfriend about stuff like this, but I just want to point out how adorable and perfect that moment was, and then I found a photo of Justin giving Selena a foot massage, and said lover and I are both massage therapists. I guess I feel like I look like Selena, and he looks like Justin- omg am I laughing to myself, and on some level I feel like we have the potential to be as amazing as they once or still do, or might one day have the potential to be. Angry Feminist Michelle meet Hopeless Romantic Michelle. Jelena montage:
I’m asking for respect toward my complex autonomous being. In every moment I am hoping that the rest of humanity will get a little more autonomous and wiser so that I can have a conversation. NO ARCHETYPES. Don’t understand me? I hate that. Maybe my problem is that I want the widest audience possible (but for seemingly benevolent reasons), but not everyone is going to understand me, and what am I even doing that it merits this thing inside me to find ways of being understood by anyone. The fear in me is so great that… one of my massage therapy school teachers said something like, “it is inevitable that at some time we will say something that will send someone to therapy.”
People tend to look up to me, or think that I know things. I wish it weren’t true that I knew things, and I do, but I am not a witch or wise woman in command of herself; I am a girl on a journey. girlhood. womanhood. girl seeking… to know what she seeks? my craft… I can live without my craft. (insert awful nagging feeling emoticon). I have always been a writer, maybe a writer in hiding. Art was a mechanism of survival. I am a talented writer and thinker, and the ability to write and articulate manifested in other ways as the demands of life changed, and I feel it coming back to me, but I know that the demands of life may change again, and I may be without you. I want you to always know that I believed in you. I want you to respect that life isn’t fair. I feel like I’m saying all the wrong things to myself, to the writer, and to “writing” itself, or “the craft”. I feel like I don’t know what it means to write anymore, or only that “necessity is the mother of invention”… I’ve adjusted to myriad qualities of life that either rely upon the craft, expunge it, or pay no mind to its rank in priority, but just like the “doing work in bed pose” manifested, it feels as though the craft is a being of its own pulling me toward it. If I can continue to survive on my own terms, it will be nice to meet again. I’m sorry that I have(n’t) so accepted that I may live a life not on my terms. The preceding would be a thesis to myself if I had to write one in this moment, and I am the type of person whose entire life can change at the drop of a hat, so who knows if it will even matter if I can decode this thesis’ meaning or execute its intended meaning.
Elizabeth Gilbert spoke of a specter who comes and is with an artist while it works. It was in a Ted Talk or something like that. That pearl of wisdom has never left me.
I feel a great urgency…
when will i just write again?