Thursday, April 25, 2013
Skinny Ass Ankles
So, I hired a personal trainer. I was motivated, mostly because of the expensive perky blonde woman that was yelling in my face and making me do exercises I have only ever seen on Biggest Loser (waving humongous ropes through the air). But the changes were happening on the inside as well; emotions were bubbling up and suddenly I was awash in tears along with my sweat as I bounced up and down on a huge step while pumping kettlebells. I hated it and I loved it. I could feel myself changing, deciding to do right for myself, finally. And I sensed an emotion I hadn't felt in quite some time: justice. I was allowing myself to feel justice, for all the pain I had gone through over the last few years, I suddenly felt I deserved to treat myself well. I also felt like my hamstrings were burning and this biotch better get out of my face.
And then I fell. Sober, wearing flats, walking across a dark lawn, a step literally decided to put my dreams in a blender and halt my progress. Damn step.
For the last 5 weeks I have been laying low, with my foot propped on pillows resenting everyone who wears a size 6 because their ankles seem to be fine. Bitches. Ironically, my ankles are the slimmest part of my body aside from my wrists, and they came back to bite me in the ass. Freakin' skinny ass ankles. Couldn't they have plumped up for a night and protected me from the months of agony ahead?
Needless to say, I can't do much. I can't even grocery shop or cook my own meals because most of those things require two legs. I mean, unless you discuss this with somebody who has lost a limb and had to accommodate to those changes in which case they will probably tell you I am being a whiny bitch. I am merely just refusing to accept these changes because I am tired and sad and in a whirlwind of self pity. The frustration I have felt at this sudden stall in my progress because of a silly injury is overwhelming. I won't go into the medical details of it all, but basically this injury will keep me quite literally on my ass for the next few months.
And so I ate. Whatever people dropped off in the goodness of their hearts, I ate. I watched Homeland, and Pretty Little Liars (!!!) and Parks and Recreation, and I ate bowls of pasta and hoagies. Interesting how, in our moments of emotion and sadness we comfort ourselves with the exact poison that has gotten us to this place to begin with, right?
But then I watched a documentary about eating healthy and how it changes your body's response to illness and injury. And then I watched another one. And another one. And then I decided, hey I have the time, might as well read some of the books these documentaries recommend. so I read The China Study, and The Gerson Theory and, Hungry for Change. I became a woman obsessed with information, pie charts, and tangible change. From my bed, I could actively do very little, but acquiring all of the things I needed to know felt like participating in my life. I didn't have to sit here and let things happen to me, I could take the reigns somewhere, anywhere and disallow life to simply pass me by. Is disallow a word? It is now.
I can't say I will ever be a vegetarian let alone a vegan. Okay, let's be honest. I will literally never be a vegan. But I will say it has changed my idea of food from that of comfort to nourishment. From a band-aid, to a medicine. For the last few weeks I have *successfully* been able to eat at least 2 meals out of the day being meatless. In fact, somedays I have gone completely meat and dairy free. I purchased a juicer (which I need to promptly return because honestly how the hell can i justify buying a juicer right now), and I took back control. And God, it feels good to be able to do something successfully since even walking has apparently become a challenge.
And let me tell you, when I flipped the juicer to the on position and shoved apples and spinach and other nutrient dense foods in there I took my first sip and told my crutches to fuck off. I felt my muscles and ligaments and everything else in me just relax and I felt my soul say thank you. I felt that familiar sense of justice. I took another sip of my fluorescent green juice and decided that I will conquer yet another medical setback. Because food can be medicine, if you let it.