On body image...and donut sex

Note: Originally published in 2011 on my old blog,  ideclarelifecrisis.blogspot.com, revised and re-published 2015.

9/21/2011

I ate a donut last night. My taste buds nearly imploded from all of the deliciousness. It was one of my favorites, a cream-filled longjohn (the fluffy white cream! None of that nasty Bavarian cream business). Granted, it didn't have nuts and its frosting was white rather than chocolate-- but these were forgivable shortcomings. Besides, it was a gift, and I don't look donut gift-horses in the mouth. I just shove the donuts in my mouth. Much easier.

So I’m sitting there, caressing my donut, devouring it with ardor. I rather paradoxically demolished that donut in the most gentle, most caring way you can imagine --think “food sex," that's how it is with me and donuts. Yet in the midst of my pastry lovemaking, this soft but audible thought pops into my mind, “I wonder how thin I could be if I didn’t eat this donut. Or if I never ate donuts.”

This thought came unbidden, just about as welcome as when "Oh damn, I forgot to put on deodorant today" or "Gotta add peanut butter to the shopping list" pops up during actual sex. (C'mon ladies. You know this is a thing.)

Those darned thoughts, they do what they want sometimes. The particularly villainous anti-donut notion of being thinner— and numerous variations of it—tend to come spilling out of the recesses of my psyche, often midway through eating something mouthwatering and not particularly healthful. In the past it was pretty easy to give in to the thought—to accept that yes, I’m supposed to be perfect, and yes, thinner is better, and Yes, I should feel guilty and shameful about eating donuts and YES, I'm a food/body failure, I suck at life, etc. Then I'd wallow for awhile.

I am pretty stoked to report that last night, something different happened. I'm eating my donut, and the thought about never eating donuts and being thinner occurs to me. But then my resilient mind bounced back with, “Heyyy....maybe thinner isn't better. Maybe I'm a worthwhile person, no matter what's going on with my body." Whoa.

This has not been an easy place to get to. For one thing, I'm curvy. Not like "curvy in all the right places" but like "curvy in a bunch of haphazard places where my body has decided to curve"). When I acknowledged that the wayward bumps and lumps weren't going away, I had no choice but to make friends with them.  I mean, we're not friendly every single day or anything, but I try to be kind to them even when I'm annoyed. Also, I've got stretch marks and sort of weird boobs and a big long scarred up place at the bottom of my abdomen (because BABIES) -- yet when in a good mood I'm able to see those as badges of honor. I healed from two major surgeries and got two kids out of the deal. My body has not failed me in doing its essential functions, so I'm striving for détente with it, rather than being a hater.

Furthermore, I love donuts. I really do. I’m not going to give them up to chase some illusion of perfectionism. Granted, I’m not going to eat one every single day. But I’m probably not going to pass one up if the opportunity presents itself-- I mean, that's insane. I don't recommend it.

So, if there's any point to all of this, it is this couple of things: 1) Work towards making peace with your imperfect body. It's totally worth it in the long run, and 2) Buy me donuts. I also like donut holes. And apple fritters.