For every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.
- Ecclesiastes 3:1
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Mantra
Nothing significant in history has ever been accomplished by playing it safe. Risks are terrifying necessities. If I must start from scratch, I will do so with grace and patience, knowing that God charts the map, not me. I have health, love, hope, faith and fervent dedication. Everything else will follow suit.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Manifesto: 1st Chapter
This is a work in progress. These issues have been on my mind a lot lately, and I've been itching put it all down. I will revisit this particular post later, it doesn't feel like a finished piece. The part at the end is actually what I wrote first, but then the rest of it just came pouring out and I haven't figured out how to integrate that particular section.
I had an interesting conversation with a co-worker today. She was telling me about how she wants to better manage all the stress in her life and that she feels that exercising regularly will help. She really wants to join a gym, but said: "I feel so self-conscious when I go to the gym, though."
I then rather bluntly told her, "Well, you should just get over it."
She was kind of taken aback. To be honest, so was I. I never say stuff like that. I could tell, though, that this was something she was really struggling with and I wanted to give her some advice.
I'm 5' 10 1/2". I'm a size 4. I weigh 133 pounds. According to contemporary societal convictions, I have what many would call an ideal figure. But when a girl walks by me in the gym who is skinnier or more fit than I am, I fall victim to the voice screaming "YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH".
This is what you do: you just have to get over it. You have to scream "SHUT UP" right back at the voice. You have to put on your sweatpants, drive to the gym and do 1 more mile than you think you can. You have to turn up your iPod and do five more reps. You have to suck in your stomach and do fifty more crunches.
You have to watch what you eat while still enjoying what you eat. And you can't eat your feelings. Summer of '06 I started having trouble with anxiety and depression, and the way I treated it was by going to Chipotle and walking to Graeter's. I gained 15 pounds and stopped going to the gym. I felt terrible.
On the flip side, you can't overdo it. Spring of '07 I was getting ready for my senior showcase in front of every major agency in New York City. I was exercising for an hour plus every day and eating somewhere around 1300 calories. I didn't think I was thin enough (It should be said I was not and never have been anorexic.). I weighed 122 pounds. And I felt awful.
5' 10 1/2". 4. 133. 15. 122. They're just numbers. I'm not afraid of them.
I've committed myself to working out at the gym a minimum of 3 times a week. I've trained myself to keep track of what I eat throughout the day. I do my research on nutrition. I'm in really good shape and I'm at a healthy weight.
I turned 23 last Sunday. When I look in the mirror, I am satisfied with the young woman I see. My health and fitness routine are vibrant threads woven into the radiant tapestry staring back at me.
People ask me how I do it; how am I thin. How I keep my figure. I tell them all the things listed above. I wish they would ask me "Why?" so I could look them in the eye and say the following:
"Because it makes me feel better. Because it gives me energy. Because it calms me. Because I feel like I'm taking good care of myself. Because I do it for me."
I apologized for being blunt with my co-worker. I then told her that if it was something she really wanted for herself, she should go for it, and she shouldn't let anything stand in her way. I told her about the numbers.
Everyone is self-conscious and insecure; you just have to deal with it.
[I was never very fit as a younger adult. In fact, I was kind of chubby. I played soccer when I was like seven, but sports and fitness always really intimidated me. I had to take weight training my senior year of high school. It was the most terrifying experience of my life. It was me (the future -valedictorian president of the THEATRE club), half the varsity wrestling squad and seven or eight of our star football players. Needless to say, I was out of my element. I had a really cool teacher, though, and he encouraged me to push myself even though he could tell I was really intimidated. I learned a lot, and felt a lot better in general. I lost some weight, noticed some muscles I didn't even know existed and felt pretty good about myself by the end of the term. On the last day of class, my teacher looked at me and said "Keep it up. Don't lose what you've learned here." I didn't really get it at the time, but that really stuck with me deeply.
Sophomore year I picked up a dance minor. I did it because I sucked at dance and I wanted to get better. I was mediocre on a good day. I also knew it would be really good for me physically; I'd be dancing five days a week for an hour and a half to two hours. I'd started working out more frequently at the campus gym all through freshmen year, but between 19 + credit hours per term and rehearsals and whatnot I didn't develop a solid routine. With the dance minor, I had to drag my ass out of bed for ballet, tap and jazz at 8 am, and I couldn't skip classes more than three times a term. It was fun, but it kicked my ass. It was good for my concept of self-image too; when you have to stare at yourself in the mirror wearing nothing but a leotard and dance tights, you pretty much have to accept the way you look. Picking up the dance minor was probably one of the best decisions of my life. It motivated me to go to the gym even more and eat healthier. I lost more weight and gained more confidence. Spring term my sophomore year, Josey, an upperclassmen who'd been dancing since she was in diapers, watched the end of my intermediate ballet class. As I was gathering my stuff after class, she said "You're a good little dancer, Kate". I still hold tight to that praise to this day.]
People often say that 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder,' and I say that the most liberating thing about beauty is realizing that you are the beholder. This empowers us to find beauty in places where others have not dared to look, including inside ourselves.
- Salma Hayek
I had an interesting conversation with a co-worker today. She was telling me about how she wants to better manage all the stress in her life and that she feels that exercising regularly will help. She really wants to join a gym, but said: "I feel so self-conscious when I go to the gym, though."
I then rather bluntly told her, "Well, you should just get over it."
She was kind of taken aback. To be honest, so was I. I never say stuff like that. I could tell, though, that this was something she was really struggling with and I wanted to give her some advice.
I'm 5' 10 1/2". I'm a size 4. I weigh 133 pounds. According to contemporary societal convictions, I have what many would call an ideal figure. But when a girl walks by me in the gym who is skinnier or more fit than I am, I fall victim to the voice screaming "YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH".
This is what you do: you just have to get over it. You have to scream "SHUT UP" right back at the voice. You have to put on your sweatpants, drive to the gym and do 1 more mile than you think you can. You have to turn up your iPod and do five more reps. You have to suck in your stomach and do fifty more crunches.
You have to watch what you eat while still enjoying what you eat. And you can't eat your feelings. Summer of '06 I started having trouble with anxiety and depression, and the way I treated it was by going to Chipotle and walking to Graeter's. I gained 15 pounds and stopped going to the gym. I felt terrible.
On the flip side, you can't overdo it. Spring of '07 I was getting ready for my senior showcase in front of every major agency in New York City. I was exercising for an hour plus every day and eating somewhere around 1300 calories. I didn't think I was thin enough (It should be said I was not and never have been anorexic.). I weighed 122 pounds. And I felt awful.
5' 10 1/2". 4. 133. 15. 122. They're just numbers. I'm not afraid of them.
I've committed myself to working out at the gym a minimum of 3 times a week. I've trained myself to keep track of what I eat throughout the day. I do my research on nutrition. I'm in really good shape and I'm at a healthy weight.
I turned 23 last Sunday. When I look in the mirror, I am satisfied with the young woman I see. My health and fitness routine are vibrant threads woven into the radiant tapestry staring back at me.
People ask me how I do it; how am I thin. How I keep my figure. I tell them all the things listed above. I wish they would ask me "Why?" so I could look them in the eye and say the following:
"Because it makes me feel better. Because it gives me energy. Because it calms me. Because I feel like I'm taking good care of myself. Because I do it for me."
I apologized for being blunt with my co-worker. I then told her that if it was something she really wanted for herself, she should go for it, and she shouldn't let anything stand in her way. I told her about the numbers.
Everyone is self-conscious and insecure; you just have to deal with it.
[I was never very fit as a younger adult. In fact, I was kind of chubby. I played soccer when I was like seven, but sports and fitness always really intimidated me. I had to take weight training my senior year of high school. It was the most terrifying experience of my life. It was me (the future -valedictorian president of the THEATRE club), half the varsity wrestling squad and seven or eight of our star football players. Needless to say, I was out of my element. I had a really cool teacher, though, and he encouraged me to push myself even though he could tell I was really intimidated. I learned a lot, and felt a lot better in general. I lost some weight, noticed some muscles I didn't even know existed and felt pretty good about myself by the end of the term. On the last day of class, my teacher looked at me and said "Keep it up. Don't lose what you've learned here." I didn't really get it at the time, but that really stuck with me deeply.
Sophomore year I picked up a dance minor. I did it because I sucked at dance and I wanted to get better. I was mediocre on a good day. I also knew it would be really good for me physically; I'd be dancing five days a week for an hour and a half to two hours. I'd started working out more frequently at the campus gym all through freshmen year, but between 19 + credit hours per term and rehearsals and whatnot I didn't develop a solid routine. With the dance minor, I had to drag my ass out of bed for ballet, tap and jazz at 8 am, and I couldn't skip classes more than three times a term. It was fun, but it kicked my ass. It was good for my concept of self-image too; when you have to stare at yourself in the mirror wearing nothing but a leotard and dance tights, you pretty much have to accept the way you look. Picking up the dance minor was probably one of the best decisions of my life. It motivated me to go to the gym even more and eat healthier. I lost more weight and gained more confidence. Spring term my sophomore year, Josey, an upperclassmen who'd been dancing since she was in diapers, watched the end of my intermediate ballet class. As I was gathering my stuff after class, she said "You're a good little dancer, Kate". I still hold tight to that praise to this day.]
People often say that 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder,' and I say that the most liberating thing about beauty is realizing that you are the beholder. This empowers us to find beauty in places where others have not dared to look, including inside ourselves.
- Salma Hayek
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