thin: adjective \ˈthin\ (from Merriam-Webster);
having little extent from one surface to its opposite <thin paper>
not well fleshed : lean
more fluid or rarefied than normal <thin air>
lacking substance or strength <thin broth> <a thin plot>
flimsy, unconvincing <a thin disguise>b : disappointingly poor or hard <had a thin time of it>
somewhat feeble, shrill, and lacking in resonance <a thin voice>
lacking in intensity or brilliance <thin light>
***For the record, none of these sound very appealing to me.
During my weekly appointment with my healthcare provider, I was asked to reflect upon what thinness, or being thin, would add to my life; in other words, what it is about thinness that would make life so much better than the way it is now? Why do I want to be thin? What would it take for me to be happy with my body, right now?
There have been times when I've thought about skipping a race because I felt fat; this usually happens on around Tuesday or Wednesday (sometimes earlier) of race week. There is a part of my brain that recognizes that this is ridiculous; why would I wake up at 4am, four days a week (and around 4:30 or 5am on Saturdays), to train for a race and then not show up?
Part of this is attributed to my tendency toward self-sabotage, but that's a post unto itself; the other part is that I'm often disappointed by the way I look. Unless we're in the dead of winter, racing/running is when I wear the least amount of clothing in front of a large group of people. Again, I am fully aware that this is not rational; however, that doesn't make it any less true or any less painful.
Maybe, in relinquishing my desire for thinness, I am losing part of myself; the part of me that has spent years and years chasing an unattainable goal, waiting for everything to magically come together when I look a certain way, wear a certain size, register a particular number on that scale. What would happen if I got there and nothing changed?
The picture above was taken of me at my absolute thinnest, about 20 pounds less than I weigh now; do you know what I remember most vividly about that day? I remember trying to find a pair of shorts that I didn't look fat in and that fit properly; I remember trying to find a shirt I could wear over them that wouldn't stick out too much over the waistband, in case my belly wasn't completely flat.
This photo was taken on my honeymoon; I remember being so concerned about my appearance in that swimsuit that I couldn't enjoy the delectable treats we were served for lunch, treats that I would never again be able to experience in that very moment, at that very time.
This photo was taken just before Saturday's race and I didn't think about my appearance at all; I was thinking about the race I was about to run and whether my body and mind would be able to get me across that finish line in the time I set as my goal.
I have an exciting trip planned for this summer and I'm tired of waiting; I'm tired of wanting something different; I'm tired of trying to be someone else. I'd really like to be a on a diet right now; I'd like to be working toward this "goal" of thinness, so that I can get there before my big trip. But what would that even mean? And why?
There's not an answer yet; I'm mulling this over and trying to gain some insight on what it means for me to "be thin." When I figure it out, I'll let you know. In the meantime, I don't want to miss out on any more moments; I don't want to care if I'm going to "look fat" at my next race or whether I can eat the unique foods I'll likely find on my trip. I just want to live and be me, so that's my journey right now, but it's not easy.