Sticks and Stones Will Break My Bones

When I am nervous, when I am stressed, when my confidence is bruised, when I’m trying too hard or spinning too fast, I think, in rhythms, over and over: not good enough. Do it better. Try harder. Go faster.

In these times, the focus is control.

At my best, I don’t worry about pulling everything tight. I wake a little later. I unwind in front of tivo instead of my laptop. I revel in a piece of dark chocolate. I don’t need makeup and i’m satisfied with the first outfit I put on. i don’t rush, I have time to be by myself. Hunks of time, where there are pieces big enough to stretch out, savor, alone.

At my worst, I’m late for everything despite waking up before my alarm clock. I work harder than other days and it’s not good enough.

on these days, I open my eyes and immediately put both hands on my hip bones. It’s important to measure my hips and their bones. Feeling sharpness there is good. Feeling full flesh before bone is not.

On strong days, I want to be healthy and there isn’t room to worry about hip bones.

On other days, hips are very important. A measure of strength and focus and dedication.

On strong days, I try new foods and savor the taste and don’t worry that people are doubting my discipline.

Other days, everything is measured against the potential to put on a pound. What will people think about that visible weakness. Failure. Letting the details slip.

I should have married a man who made me forget to check my hipbones.

Six weeks before the wedding, my mom went with me to a dress fitting. She had tears in her eyes when I slipped my clothes off, before I stepped in the dress. “Don’t lose anymore weight, hon,” she said. I had marks for my ribs and my hips were at their sharpest.