Divisions and Precisions

Till Death Do Us Part

So yeah. I put off writing this month's On Display collab. The only topic given was "a body part". As vague as that was, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to write about.

I have a long and troubled relationship with my body. We've been on the verge of divorce several times. We even tried relationship counseling a few times but... enh. The relationship between a woman and her body is a complicated one, too complicated for any therapist to resolve, I think. You either fix the relationship or you don't, no one can really help fix it for you. I'm sure my story isn't different from most women's at this point. As little girls we're taught romanticized, unrealistic visions of what a body relationship should be. We're told that if we can just find the right body, life will be perfect, all sunshine and happiness and diet soda. Happily ever after!

I spent my childhood and most of my adulthood believing in this goal. I believed that one day Perfect Body would come along and sweep me off my, er, feet, and carry me off to aerobicized happiness. As I've grown older, however, I've learned that some of us just aren't born with what it takes to catch Perfect Body. We have to live with "Not-So-Perfect Body", and sometimes even "Slightly Horrifying To One's Self Body".

If we're really lucky, or if we work at it, we can start to accept "Not-So-Perfect Body" as ours. The truest union comes when we no longer think in terms of "perfect or not perfect" body, but when we are simply "Me", with no division between us and our body.

Once I started to realize this, I started to accept that I really am in a "till death do us part" relationship here. My body and I still have days where we don't get along. We both have days where we're uncooperative and lazy and grouchy, but we're working on it. I've learned to accept it for what it is, and I'm trying to take better care of it. In return, I'm hoping it stops making such a fuss about things like carrying in groceries, or most especially, sitting at a desk all day. You know how asses are, always complaining about something.

Posted by Lisa at April 30, 2002 11:17 AM