Mexico

Despite my ardent preaching against the evil messages of the media and the disgusting obsession of the fitness industry with the “get lean quick!” … I found myself driving into work yesterday pondering the merits of the gallon of water challenge, detox tea and copious amounts of kettlebell swings. We’re going to Mexico this week and it dawned on me that

Hawaii in Jan 2013. Accompanied by the worst upper respiratory virus I've had to date and the freedom of my first month E.D. free in nearly 12 years. I ate cinnamon rolls from a can guilt-free two weeks before this photo was taken. They were delicious. It was a milestone.

Hawaii in Jan 2013. Accompanied by the worst upper respiratory virus I've had to date and the freedom of my first month E.D. free in nearly 12 years. I ate cinnamon rolls from a can guilt-free two weeks before this photo was taken. They were delicious. It was a milestone.

I am planning to bare myself to the beach-going public without fasting, cardio-ing, flushing or even caring.

About 5 seconds of panic ensued before I came to the following conclusions:

a: For the first time EVER, I get to go on vacation without having spent the two weeks prior watching everything I put in my mouth, beating myself up in the gym and drinking more water than any human actually needs. I feel so FREE!! (And - if I’m being frank - I did an ab check this morning and I look better than I did when I spent two weeks eating chicken and broccoli and doing the potty dance between swigs of cranberry/pu-erh/ lemon water torture.)

b: I’m a little sad that I’m still subject to the programming I’ve spent 15 years years trying to uninstall. My knee jerk reaction is still “but I’m not bikini ready!” Fuck that. And F#@! the people who make money telling me, and you, and beautiful 12 year old girls that their body isn’t good enough if they haven’t abused it for a while. 

There’s this meme out there that’s been floating around for a while that says “To get a bikini body: Put a bikini on your body.” I'm so tired of hearing it because it's oversimplified for the humans who are terrified of their own skin. But it’s painfully true.  

Anne Lamott wrote some time ago and I hope to live my life by it:

"Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart."

I’m going to Mexico with a big ass, strong thighs and a heart so full of hope that it might break open. May your 2016 start the same way.