I got a 4th job…hopefully, the $$$ one
My older sister got engaged
I ran my first 5k
I spent a delightful evening with wonderful friends
October came, bringing the most delicious weather
I get to go to the theatre instead of sit in a cubicle
So even though Lindsay and I are poor and on the verge of homelessness and the person I want to see more than anyone else in the world is on another continent….LIFE IS STILL GOOD!
‘Fat’ is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her.
I mean, is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I’m not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain…
I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn’t seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!’
‘Well,’ I said, slightly nonplussed, ‘the last time you saw me I’d just had a baby.’
What I felt like saying was, ‘I’ve produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren’t either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?’ But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!
I’ve got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’. And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.
I run because I feel overwhelmed, whether good or bad.
I run because it feels good.
I run because it makes me feel connected to nature. And that’s when I feel God.
I run because I can feel myself getting stronger and faster. I feel my powerful legs carrying me like a queen.
I run because no one else can take credit for it. It’s all me.
I run because it took me 25 years.
I run for primary school me, who was the target of cruel bullying. For tweenage me, who was so painfully shy. For early twenties me, who let men dictate who I was and how I felt. I run for 26 year old me, finally knowing who I’ve been all along.
I run to feel better about eating Tex Mex. And cheese.
I run so I feel more sensual on top of my lover.
I run for my skin, my smile, my energy. I run for endurance on stage.
I run for every person who has tried to make my body their business.
I run for me.
I run for my friends and my family. For my love. For the people who need me. For the people who will need me.
I run because if I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll go back to before.
I run because I might have to someday.
I run so I will be active in my old age.
I run because I love myself.
I run because it makes me feel beautiful.
I run because why the hell not.