Showing posts with label strong. Show all posts
Showing posts with label strong. Show all posts

Saturday, April 26, 2014

I, Skinny, have spoken

I’d started writing this blog as a sign of finally having found the nerve to respond to that one characteristic that had seemed to cloud everything I was – weight! (Or to be more precise, the lack thereof). This meant that until April 2009 I had no outlet to either talk about the things I’d gotten used to people saying (albeit forcibly) or air my views (albeit humorously).

This also translated into something else. For close to 20-odd years, I was made to believe that something was wrong with my physicality. That it was not good enough. And that I was less because of it. It had wreaked havoc with my self-esteem. And I at this point will let you in on one more piece of information: I was oblivious to the damages caused.

Only because no one said it’s nobody’s fault if they’re thin.
Only because no one said it’s alright if you’re thin (well, because you need that permission. Or so it seemed).

It’s taken me a while to understand the quirk of fate behind this line - “Sticks and stones will break my bones; but words will never harm me” – because while the “words” tore me down one jibe at a time, it’s the “bones” that’ve proved how un-frail I really was. The tongue doesn’t have a bone, you see! And I also had to find my tongue her voice – a constructive (not destructive one).

No, this isn’t the point where it’s time for -- Cue. Insert “…and they all lived happily ever after”.

Tragically for the rest of the world (and hardly at all for me), I still continue to be thin. So I have yet to hear the last word on the “you’re so thin”, “you must eat some more” and “why don’t you try gaining some weight” conversation starters of the world that make the “let’s talk about the weather” seem like a preferred option.

…just as I am hoping to someday know what it feels to be envied for a ‘Size Zero’ figure! And at the risk of sounding out rightly shallow, I’ll add that hell yeah, I deserve every right to live through that emotion. I’m after all naturally endowed when it comes to this.
But no, thanks.

A couple of weeks ago I derived inspiration for this post when I read this:
“…I worry for the girls out there who are like I was -- who are suffering from the same self-esteem issues that most teenagers do, and are being told they are ugly not only by their teasing peers, but by adults around them who are crusading for change…”
This is an excerpt from a Huffington Post article titled, “Stop Making the Thin Girl Ugly

However though it provoked me to think about the baggage I’d been lugging around courtesy my own body structure, it also triggered a string of other thoughts.

“Being thin” is okay (read: un-ugly) when a person has “lost” weight because it is viewed as an achievement/triumph. All hail diet regimes. Ugh! The farce
“Being thin” is okay (read: can be lambasted in the mainstream media) when it’s the fashion industry because they are the perpetrators of a faulty sense of body-image.
Interestingly enough, “being un-thin” (AKA fat/overweight) is also friggin’ okay because the above two arguments have guaranteed there are enough supporters championing for the cause of the un-thin; whether in hushed tones, despair stricken eyes or as diet-regime over-throwers.

It’s the thin girl like me who still stands in the corner somewhere likened to, as pathetic it may sound, a stick meant for dogs.
It’s the thin girl like me who because she is ‘Not So Ample’ has to deal with every body part being sized-up and scruntized as if she was on display in the ‘Hall of Approval’.
Without the blink of an eye.  

But it’s the thin girl like me who owes no allegiance whatsoever to the diet-regimes or the fashion industry who deserves to be respected. At the very least. And may be sometimes be told that she’s alright just the way she is.


Sunday, December 1, 2013

On strength and being strong

I have since a while now fancied myself getting a tattoo and I realize that more than the thought of the tattoo itself, the thrill is around what this tattoo should be – should it be a wise line in an ancient language in its own script or should it be a cryptic symbol that represents an aspect of my personality? As I keep dilly-dallying, I remember once having come across a symbol for ‘Strength’ in the Chinese script.
Strength.

Besides it seeming to be a rather simple image to have etched on my skin (read: lesser pain), I think I have been fascinated by the word itself.

Strength. Being strong.

If you’ve been following this blog on being ‘Not So Ample’ you will realize that I’ve brought up the innumerable references to my skinny frame by everyone I’ve known and met and how that has immediately demoted me to a frail, lesser being almost – only because I haven’t ever been ampler, larger, bigger.
Size.
Weird, misplaced fixations.

And all the while – all throughout childhood, early adulthood till this point - I’ve rather consciously tried to search for something else to centre my notion of strength around. I guess that’s where my fixation with the word and everything it means might actually stem from!

To my mind there had to be more to strength than just the physical aspect. Don’t get me wrong – biceps, abs, 4 and 6 packs, triceps, calves et al are impressive and sexy! I had my own stint at the gym a couple of years ago and loved the shape I got into. I agree that being in shape does wonders to your sense of self-esteem for sure because for a while thereafter I couldn’t care anymore about people making any remarks about my skinny frame well because skinny had some shape and could also flex a muscle or two!
Now of course lethargy and laziness have completely taken over and despite that niggling voice in my head to get back to training I seem to be an absolute disappointment. Nothing. Nothing seems to get me to get back to some discipline – not even the thought that I can have those flat abs once again! *sigh*

Being a woman – yeah, I’m bringing in a gender perspective – physical strength isn’t quite expected out of you. I mean that. Even during that short stint at training at the gym, I once had a middle aged woman (aka the local neighbourhood aunty) express disdain at me flexing that lone single muscle. 
“As a girl, you shouldn’t be muscular”, she said to my face. Like I said, I had already surrendered to the I-couldn’t-care-less mantra.



And yes there is a blind eye approach to the biology of a woman that actually proves the physical strength of women – think child birth if nothing else and you have to ask yourself why women are referred to the weaker sex. Answers anyone?

Still moving to another realm is that of emotional strength.
Softer aspect. I know. I hear the sniggers. Can it even be considered as strength?
I had come across this line a while ago and it appealed to me: "Strength is nothing more than how well you hide the pain"
Well, what else would you attribute society’s outlook that men aren’t supposed to cry to? Or lately a statement like ‘big girls don’t cry’? Or that ‘strong is the new beautiful’? 




For the longest time I have upheld these myself. Not only did I think and believe but also imbibed these through my own disposition and actions.
Being strong was a good thing.
And I had to prove that I was strong.
I pushed my own limits. I couldn’t think of looking back.
And I didn’t.
For quite a long time.

Somewhere I was also beginning to realize that being strong almost necessitated that one is emotionally void and therefore capable of demonstrating strength!
Really?
So is every notion of strength – physical, biological, emotional, spiritual (for those who believe in an external being) –  actually quite skewed, then?

Not quite. Not if you acknowledge and accept that the above is a uni-dimensional force-fitted view towards whatever it is that we think comprises of strength.

And this is what I set out to discover by myself.
What did I find?
I’ll share that in my next post… But I’m curious to know what your experiences have been around “being strong” – What according to you is strength? 
What roadblocks did you overcome (if any)? 
How has your own mind-set changed if at all?

Oh! And should I really get that tattoo now?