Sneaky B*tches

Today, I overheard a girl in a class today talking about running her first 5k. I congratulated her and got chatting about running, and mentioned that I hope to do a 5k one of these days. And then she was like....oh, yeah, I have asthma and I couldn't breathe but you know, it was easy, I just kept moving, blah blah blah, running just comes easily to me I guess, aren't I awesome, etc. etc. etc.

That's when I realized she was a Sneaky Bitch. You know the type...the ones who make all your hard work and agony seem so STUPID and pointless because they just decide one day to do something, and it works for THEM, and they don't understand that not everyone can do that thing easily. They don't give a crap their words are like a knife in your back.

And today, it's just the final straw for me, because I've spent the better part of the past two years trying to be a runner. I went to a running clinic to learn proper form (ball impact, heel glance...any coach that ever told you to “dig in those heels” while running was a dumbass and likely causing you injury). I'd get so close to completing a full mile and fall short, because my lungs were going to explode. I've fallen off treadmills, nay, FLEW off a treadmill, because I am a horrible spaz. I've sprained the same ankle twice, very badly, again on the spaz bit. I had plantar fasciitis in both feet when I started jogging and only started jogging consistently because I realized running with proper form moved the impact zone off my injured tendons AND that the area was strengthening every time I jogged and felt immensely better, both localized, and as I lost weight, overall. I finally (just recently) reached the place where I can jog a whole mile without stopping to walk or take breathers.

But EVERY time I start getting a good routine going, I get hurt again, like today. Something in my hip flexor has been bothering me for a few weeks and while I've been trying to do stuff to fix it, and strengthen the area, today it “snapped” about 2 minutes into a good brisk run and I had to stop because my leg basically gave out from under me. It hurts like crazy to even walk right now and I am PISSED, because once again, my body is betraying me when all I've done is try to make it better, faster, stronger, healthier, and meanwhile there are SNEAKY BITCHES out there running 5k's without even TRYING.

It's not like I'm a nutter fanatic trying to run marathons (you know who YOU are...nutters!) and doing crazy routines. I'm just trying to jog a couple times a week as part of an overall cardio and resistance training fitness plan AND I CAN'T EFFING DO IT without getting hurt, and suffering, and experiencing delays of every imaginable sort.

Why are there always people who seem to be able to just fall into the thing we are bleeding and sweating our butts off to be able to do? Like that writer who decided one day to pen a totally ridiculous, cheesy, lame-ass knock-off book and it became an overnight sensation, selling a hundred bazillion jillion copies and inciting fan fiction of the fan fiction (complete with merchandising) to pop up faster than maggots on a cow carcass (Yeah, EL James, talking about you here, and a few other individuals who shall not be named, we all know who you are even if you don't acknowlege it) while there are thousands of writers all over the world who have been slaving away over brilliant, original, FABULOUS ideas for decades, hundreds of decades even (little bit exaggatory) and can barely sell a thing, much less get a contract.

As if that weren't bad enough, inevitably these “blessed” people like to oh-so-innocently rub our faces in their success...“Oh, I didn't need painkillers for the dentist or childbirth!” (True story...I call Alien Species on that particular sneaky bitch, but whatever). “I ran a 5k while having an asthma attack, and won first place!” (Ok, exaggeration, but whatever, my hip effing hurts, I'm allowed.) “I'm now going to share the secrets of my success with you all and show how you, too, can be an overnight writing sensation like me via pompous windbaggy douchery webcasts and books I've written on the subject which you should buy so I can make more money, wheee!” (Not really an exaggeration on that last bit, sadly)

Here's the thing. There are always going to be people who seem to be really good at something or fall into a bit of luck. And if YOU are one of those people, don't be an effing jerk about it. Don't pretend you somehow magically have all the secrets of the universe at your disposal. Don't pretend you're an expert just because you were in the right place at the right time. Don't knock other people's efforts, or belittle their hard work and talent, and don't offer to “help” them or give advice with a supercilious smirk or self-righteous attitude. Be genuine, and humble, and grateful, and don't be a sneaky little bitch, ok? The world does NOT need more of those people.

For the rest of us, I guess all we can do is dust ourselves off, take an ibuprofen, and get the eff back to work. Here's a quote to help us with that~

Body Lies

     This morning, I was reading a popular fashion magazine. Each month, they feature a brief highlight on fashion ideas for “big women in a skinny world.” One word jumped off the page and struck me right across my face. The article used the word “curvy” to describe the author and other women like her. The problem is this women is not “curvy,” she is obese. I don't use “obese” as a pejorative; she is a beautiful women, obviously intelligent, creative, and her use of accessories is inspiring.

     I joined the growing ranks of obese women when I was about 23 years old. I had never been an active child, or teenager, preferring to read instead of forcing my uncoordinated and clumsy body to play a sport of some kind. My parents were never into sports, and as they led active lives in their professions, the last thing they wanted to do during “down time” was more physical activity. I never struggled with my weight as a young person, and assumed I never would.

    As many people do, I found myself with a desk job. As my adult metabolism started to slow, the pounds started first creeping, then piling on. Never having the foundation of an active lifestyle left me unaware of where to begin. I had the vague notion one needed to “eat healthier” and “get moving” to lose weight, but knowing the formula and putting it into practice are two very different things. To complicate matters, I didn't eat all that unhealthily. I ate out maybe once a month, ate vegetables and fruit daily, and while I certainly enjoyed a good Doritos nosh, I wasn't pigging out on junk food regularly, so what exactly was I supposed to change?

    I knew that a “diet” was not going to work for me. I also knew enough about weight loss to know that most people gain back not only the weight they lost, but an additional 10% MORE weight within one year of going off a diet. I listened to friends complain about their weight more and more and list every excuse in the book about why they couldn't exercise.

    “I don't have time.” “I'm too busy.” “My kids/spouse/pets/job makes it impossible.” “I'm overweight, but I'm still pretty healthy, so it's fine.”

    That last one was my excuse, until I began realizing I wasn't very healthy at all. I couldn't climb my stairs without feeling out of breath. I certainly couldn't jog around my block. Having to carry my groceries and laundry baskets up to my second floor apartment was a chore I dreaded. I didn't even like taking my dog out to play because it felt like too much effort to run around for 5 minutes. I developed plantar fasciitis in both my feet. Imagine my surprise when I discovered the leading cause contributing to the development of plantar fasciitis is carrying extra weight on your frame, and the best way to get rid of it is to lose the excess weight. I had severe acid reflux disease and had to take nearly double the amount of medication than what is standard to treat the condition. Guess what the best treatment for GERD is? Yeah. Losing weight.

    Nobody actually told me I had to lose weight, not even my physicians. In fact, everywhere I went made it easy to stay heavy. Clothes for bigger women are available in all department stores and most chain boutique stores (unlike the old days where you had to go to “specialty stores” for plus sizes.) In fact, I technically wasn't wearing plus-sized clothes anyways, so that meant I was fine, right? Everyone (except airlines) makes public seating bigger nowadays, so one barely even notices their bum getting wider. “Curvy” has replaced “Heavy” or “Full-Figured” as the descriptive term for bigger women, and who doesn't want to be curvy? Curvy is sexy!

    Except...let's be clear about something vitally important. There is a world of difference between “curvy” and “obese.”

    Obesity is defined by the American Medical Association as having a BMI (Body Mass Index) of 30 or more. I am aware that BMI doesn't take into consideration a person's muscle mass, and so, there is SOME leeway in this number. (You can figure out your own BMI using the following formula:

(your weight in pounds)

(height in inches) x (height in inches) and multiply by 703 = BMI

Underweight- Less than 18.5
Normal Weight- 18.5 to 24.9
Overweight- 25 to 29.9
Obesity- 30 or greater

    It would be easy to take comfort in the fact that the average woman in American is now a size 14. As long as we are amongst the average, there is nothing really wrong with us, is there?

    Except, there is a LOT wrong with us.

    Curvy is an undefined term adopted by the masses to make women feel better about being overweight. In a culture that is striving to shame no one, we've instead managed to invent a term that keeps us sick and unhealthy and feeling okay about it.

    I'm not writing this because I'm perfect. I'm writing this because calling someone who is obese “Curvy” is a lie, and being lied to infuriates me. I'm writing this because over 60% of Americans are medically overweight or obese. Over 500,000 women succumb to heart disease every year. Type II Diabetes is the fastest growing ailment among Americans. Billions and billions of our dollars are spent each year by our Insurance Companies to treat our obesity-related ailments. Foot injuries, back injuries, high blood pressure, GERD, and chronic pain are some of the “less important” medical issues facing obese people.

    I didn't want to be one of those people anymore. I didn't want to stay unhealthy. I started doing the only thing I thought just MIGHT start me down the right path - walking for 20 minutes every day.

    A year later, I don't feel unhealthy anymore. It's not about vanity. Sure, I want to look good and feel sexy, but I refuse to give that more importance than the fact that I've been able to cut my acid reflux medication need in half. The plantar fasciitis is gone. I can run around, and carry laundry, and play with the dog. I feel capable. I ENJOY exercising (most days, ha). Sometimes I eat dessert and pizza and I still nosh on Doritos and I refuse to feel guilty about it.

    I'm not skinny. It's never been about that. I don't want the women of the world to be skinny, I want us to be healthy. If you can't climb a set of stairs without getting winded, you are not healthy. If you can't jog around your block without feeling like you are going to keel over and die, you are not healthy. If you can't actively play with your kids for 20 minutes, or your pets, you are not doing them or yourself any favors, and you aren't healthy.

    I don't want a world full of women hiding behind a false sense of security because they are “average,” and meanwhile, their lives are being cut short by ten or twenty years. That magazine, as well as any other that hides America's worst health epidemic behind a misleading term, ought to be ashamed. We shouldn't accept being lied to and told we're okay when we are actually dying. We're worth way more than that.