He's takin' the high road.
He doesn't care if his neck is thick
Or if his beak's big
Or if all he'll be able to ever see is out sideways of him.
He's LeRoy and that's all that matters. Two walking feet and hips that gyrate like aliens. What more could a LeRoy really want?
I was just cleaning out my iPhotos. Lots of photos I took of me, for models so that I could draw the various zines and prints. The photos span several months, from late last summer. It's interesting and not too painful at least today, to see how my body swells and shrinks...and swells.... I wonder if I can just be okay with that. What if I am always a compulsive eater? I mean, it's been like that for me, with various bouts of anorexia and bulimia, since I was about 12. Focusing more on just feeling good, healthy lifestyle, and recognizing that I eat when I'm emotional and not punishing myself so damn much seems like the way to go. I just get so tired of trying to control everything, but this impulse to do it jacks up again and there I go.
I bought some bigger shorts and trousers yesterday. I figured that I would like to be comfortable instead of feeling pinched and miserable, and not feel like shit for needing to go and buy bigger clothes. At least I don't feel panicked and I haven't totally rocketed into a massive eating mode, like I tend to do when I feel bad.
Humans are so weird, complex, and perplexing. The whole guilt/shame thing is carried so far in religion. Religion, mostly, in my opinion, really fucks a person up. Don't get me wrong, there are the plus sides, but on balance, I think it's messy. Normal to want to believe in something and feel safe and secure, but....c'mon....a God who is Male? Females are the ones who give birth, for starters...
So now, I may have several dozen fewer blog readers. ha haha hahahahaaaaa, like there were ever that many to begin with! Talk about HUBRIS :)
I'm going to go rub my thighs together. That means I am going to walk around and do some odd chores around here, and then maybe go for a nice hike. But because I WANT to and oxygen feels good in my body, not because I need to burn calories and maybe lose some weight. FUCK THAT, OKAY?
It's kinda weird and depressing working with magazines every day. I mean okay, I realize that it's all photoshop and airbrush, but it reminds me of all the hours as a teenager that I would feel so bad about myself because of the never measuring up factor. Here I am, closing in on forty years old, have read a gagillion self-help books, seen my fair share of therapists, and still the residual feelings crop up. So I'm venting out loud, maybe I can remind myself that it doesn't matter how many orange-peel spots I have on my body, or stretch marks, or saggies.....that is a really skewed way to view self-worth.
Belief systems can be VERY DANGEROUS.
2 comments:
Take heart, V-- you're a swan, even when you don't feel like one. But your sentiments about our culture are right on the mark. Don't know what can be done about that, except remember to check in with people who are more grounded in reality (hard to do when you're a recluse like me). Have you read my blog lately? (Ha, talk about zero readership.) Full of hormonal rants as well. Some days I just weep for the fucking world! (Hey, you said I could curse here, remember? Heh.) But again, I say: take heart. The perspective and compassion that you add to the world-- as an artist and as a person-- are the only things you can do, really, to tip the balance toward the better. Your sensitivity is a key element in your work. And your stellar perspicacity.... I mean, would the art be as sweet if it weren't just a little bitter?
hi Anne - thanks so much for saying hi and stuff. I am hearing you on all counts. And I just went over to your blog - you've turned the comments on now, yey!
Yeah I guess I'd rather be bumpy and orange-peely rather than flatlined. You know what I'm sayin'.
I'm having the urge to listen to Thom Yorke's The Eraser and making some art. (have you listened to his album? I know you like Radiohead, so....)
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