Yesterday I got an email from the young, gorgeous and ridiculously fit woman who ran my yoga classes for Finding Om. She can do down dog in Lululemon running shorts and not look obscene. Need I say more? Her email complained that "We took professional pics at Bija tonight and I seriously thought I looked gorgeous. I got them back via email and, wow. Dude. I may never be happy. And even in black and white! My butt looked all puckered and my legs all stumpy."
I don't understand what it is about women in our society that makes us hold ourselves up to these unreachable standards. Go to the supermarket and look around. Any market--even Whole Foods. How many people look like they could be on TV or the cover of Shape magazine? Not many. In fact, even here in Colorado Springs, recently crowned "America's Fittest City" by Men's Health magazine, more people look like they could be featured in Weight Watchers magazine than Women's Fitness or Runners World.
I know, I know. I'm not one to talk. I feel shitty about myself right now because I am not in as good shape as I usually am by the end of the summer. Does it count that I am finishing up a kick-ass dissertation that helped people feel better about themselves and that I can probably publish (in a much shorter version) and that I can in some way turn into at least part of my future practice? Uh... kind of. But not so much when I look in the mirror. Then I just berate myself for not looking fitter, more muscular, less flabby (shall I name where?)and start comparing myself to Ms. Leadville 100 or Scoop, who has run 3 triathlons this summer and is in possibly the best shape of her life. Fine, fine, neither of them is finishing up their PsyD. So what?
Sure, every so often you read about someone getting her MD-PhD who also races Ironmans, has 8 kids, is PTO president and looks like Cindy Crawford. But most of us don't. Nor do we need to.
Right? (small wimper) Please?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment