I have recently put on a little weight, for unknown reasons. That is, it isn’t that I think to myself, “Well, it’s probably that new ice cream flavor I discovered—I CANNOT stay away from that,” it’s that it feels to me that I have been eating and exercising at the same rates as usual, and yet here is some extra weight, enough to bump me into the next-size-up pants. It could be aging, it could be Candy-Crush-related sloth, it could be unnoticed nibbling—WHATEVER. It’s not something I would have mentioned except I found something by accident that I wanted to pass on, in case it would work for you too in a crisis.
It happened while I was doing my hair. This requires looking in the mirror, something I would increasingly prefer to avoid. There was literally no way to hold my head that would flatter my underchin. And then I accidentally parted my hair too severely and made the whole hairdo too tight. I looked in the mirror and thought, “I look like a boy. A FAT boy.” And something about that phrasing resulted in an instinctive, immediate, internal demand to know WHAT if anything was wrong with fat boys, and it was in their defense and mine that I looked at myself fiercely and replied with hot protective indignation, “SO WHAT IF I DO?” And my chin went up and my eyes went bright and I looked so much better—but more importantly, I FELT so much better.
I have been using that reply every time I have a negative thought about my appearance. It’s a technique that, for me, nips in the bud those kinds of damaging and useless thoughts, before they really get on a roll. Standing at the mirror saying mean things to myself and making myself feeling sad isn’t going to help. So what if I look bigger? So what if I look older? So what if I look kind of lumpy in these pants? SO WHAT IF I DO?
I love you.
I was just about to comment, “I love you” as well. Swistle, I reiterate. I love you.
You are one of my favorite people. SO WHAT IF YOU ARE.
Seriously, I can’t even count the number of times you’ve made me consider something I took for granted in a new way, and then changed my mind. When I am overwhelmed, I think of drops IN the bucket. I don’t judge people for spending too much on startling expenses (unless it’s a Birkin bag). Your post on post-partum feelings was a godsend that made me feel like maybe I wasn’t an insane person.
Someone in a recent post commented that you should consider professional writing, and you really really should. I don’t know how you DO that, but I will read everything you write ever.
Seconded.
Thirded. THIS!
You are delightful.
SWIID :) Excellent!
YEP. Like, it is SO EASY for us all to agree that there is CLEARLY nothing wrong with a larger, older MAN. And yet a WOMAN, in the same circumstance, through the same set choices/experiences? LIFE IS OVER.
I would truly, TRULY, like to hear from some elderly women on how we are expected to live TWO-THIRDS OF OUR LIVES allegedly unattractive and invisible. That just…can’t make sense. WHO WOULD DESIGN IT THAT WAY?
So while I don’t consider myself elderly-I’m 55-my hair started going gray when I was in high school-and I finally gave up the coloring at about 45. Anyway-as someone who looks older-and who men certainly wouldn’t look at twice now, I feel like I had my place in the sun where I got the male attention. Now I feel freaking free. My personal opinion is we are never unattractive or invisible, as long as we have people we love, and are loved. I now work as a sub where I feel my appearance actually is a huge bonus-everyone assumes I am a retired teacher, and I get a lot of love from the students-who are so funny-almost every day I get a compliment on how much they love my silver hair.
What is this amazing new ice cream flavor? I clearly need this.
Drat…and now I read more carefully and see there is not an ice cream flavor. I just really want some ice cream, what can I say?
I will spot you a new ice cream flavor: the tonight dough,by b and j. Delicious, I just discovered it.
Favorite ice cream ever. Got hooked on it months ago, and now after a long week, my husband will look at me after the kids are sleeping and say hopefully, “Ben and jerry’s?” tonight dough ROCKS.
I went and picked some up thanks to your recommendation, and just wanted to thank you. This is amazing! Yum yum yum.
This is so excellent, I will be employing SWIID towards my postpartum bod on the daily. And Dr. Maureen up above has reminded me to revisit your postpartum feelings post, too!
You and this are wonderful.
This is brilliant. Like the internal monologue version of “Why do you ask?” Love it.
I had a similar feeling recently when my son told my I looked pregnant when I’m very much not. At first I was really insulted and I reminded him that it’s not good manners to say that. And he said, with the innocence of a child, “why? What’s wrong with looking pregnant?” And it made me think, “yeah. What IS wrong with looking pregnant? Nothing. Not a single thing is wrong with it. So what if I have a tummy that sticks out a bit? I have birthed 4 children and now I look perpetually pregnant.”
SO WHAT IF I DO?
Ha! I will never forget the mother of my daycare provider saying to me when my daughter was about 2- “oh congratulations, you are pregnant again!”. Ummm, no-I had a very stressful job, I was stress eating, and I gained a bunch of weight. I did feel bad, but now I realize I should have thought “SO WHAT IF I DO?”.
Oh, when I read Fat Boy, I immediately thought of the ice cream sandwich. Yum.
But good on ya! I also have gained some mystery weight.
So what if I did? Hey, that IS empowering!
Recently my version of this has been thinking of that scene in Love Actually where Emma Thompson says, feeling not very good about herself (WHY), “Nowadays, the only clothes I can get into were once owned by Pavarotti,” and Harry says, fondly, “I always think Pavarotti dresses very well.” (You can get a sound clip of Alan Rickman telling you that he always thinks Pavarotti dresses very well.) SO WHAT IF I WEAR BIG CLOTHES.
Last week my mother said to me that she can’t take selfies with her new camera because she is old and fat. My mother is 62, she has an abdominal hernia that cannot be repaired. She has given birth to 3 children and lost 6 others. She has survived spousal abuse, cancer, botched surgeries and three marriages. She is beautiful to me. She is a lovely woman who is aging gracefully but all she can see are her flaws. She is a survivor.
You are always your own harshest critic. People that judge you don’t deserve you. Love those extra pounds, grey hairs, tiny wrinkles as evidence of your life, your very survival. Every time you judge yourself harshly, also remember that you are more loved than you know.
This made me cry. There is no shame in getting older… and yet…
Every day I think about cutting my hair short, letting it go gray, ditching the make up and rocking it out as a 45 year old who has better things to do than fuss with all that. Then I wonder if I would be judged as having “given up?” My children are appalled when I bring up the idea. I’d probably look like I was 90 next to other moms my age. I know 40 is the new 20, but is that really a good thing? When my grandma was 40, she looked like today’s 60 year olds. Even so, she was awesome. I watch television shows from the 1980s, and you know what? The passengers on the Love Boat look natural — no frozen faces, no over plumped cheeks or lips, slightly crooked teeth. So.., what if I do want some freedom from today’s ideas of beauty and what’s really important? Are all the grandmothers with soft laps and pillow arms going to be extinct some day because that is a soft place for a kid to land. Bravo Swistle. Bravo!
I hear a lot of talking about “letting yourself go,” as though it’s a bad thing, but first of all, since when is my “self” my appearance?
And second, why is letting yourself go taken in the bad sense? Has Ginger Rogers taught us nothing?
I like this so much better than my usual “F*@# it” ,which is also meant to feel empowering and defiant, but sometimes just makes me feel like I’m giving up.
“when I am old I shall wear purple…” (ha ha I do now, but I know that’s not the point). I am 55 and have been saying that for a while now. But I like the “so what if I do” mantra!
I tried on a pair of pants at a store on Monday and I kind of loved them except that I felt a bit hippy in them. Today I went back, tried them on again and bought them. I decided hey, I’m hippy. So I may as well look hippy in pants I like.
Thank you for this post, Swistle, I really needed this today.
SO WHAT IF I DO? Yes. Yes. Yes.
I recently watched every episode of Nurse Jackie. From the photos you have posted I think you look so much like the actress Merritt Wever who plays Zoey. She’s beautiful and has an awesome scrub collection, btw. So there! Now I”m going back to read all of the comments while I eat cookies. Boom.
From one “fat boy” to another, fuck yes. SO WHAT IF WE DO.
Thank you for the quiet reminder that it is ok to be imperfect. I complete a great accomplishment this weekend and all I could do was compare myself to the other amazing women I was with and bemoan what I am not. I am a woman, a wife, a mother and most importantly me. Thank you
I just love you.