Bodies
This week, there was a fancy reception announcing the new artistic director at the theatre. It was such a big deal that the company rented out the swankiest restaurant in town for it. It was gorgeous--concrete floors, granite bar tops, cream linen wall hangings. It was a lot of fun getting dressed to the nines to mingle with theatre folks and drink strong gin and tonics. I just don't get many opportunities to dress up.
It's a bit of a mind fuck to be a woman in theatre. I am somewhat immune to it because my size does not determine what jobs I am offered (If anything, I've noticed a trend towards pillowy matrons in the social work field, so, whew.), but still. It's hard sometimes to be surrounded by jutting shoulder blades and collar bones that could slice off your head, without thinking, "I used to be that little. What's wrong with me now?" But the catch is, I am in love with my now-voluptuous ass, and my boobs that show off splendidly in a deep v-neck. Maybe boobs moreso than ass, but as long as my pants still can be zipped, I'm ok with it. I can't ever look at women who are still shaped like girls--flat stomaches, tiny body structure, without longing for the days when I was like them. In my mind, that's the perfect body.
And I know it's unrealistic for me. Sometime in the past few years, my body decided to become all womanly (damn all the biking for giving me thighs!), and I don't think there's anything I can do about it but accept it. I look at the bonier actresses at the theatre--one to whom I'd like to sit down and feed a good big meal, who said, "since I lost 20 pounds, I haven't stopped working for one single week."--and cringe. I know I don't want my ribs to protrude.
But it's so hard to just ignore all of it. One of the main topics of conversation sometimes among some of Tim's female friends is how much they hate their bodies, and how they need to lose weight. At least--I suppose--they make sure to eat healthily and work out a lot, instead of just complaining. It's hard to listen to that a lot, though.
It's a bit of a mind fuck to be a woman in theatre. I am somewhat immune to it because my size does not determine what jobs I am offered (If anything, I've noticed a trend towards pillowy matrons in the social work field, so, whew.), but still. It's hard sometimes to be surrounded by jutting shoulder blades and collar bones that could slice off your head, without thinking, "I used to be that little. What's wrong with me now?" But the catch is, I am in love with my now-voluptuous ass, and my boobs that show off splendidly in a deep v-neck. Maybe boobs moreso than ass, but as long as my pants still can be zipped, I'm ok with it. I can't ever look at women who are still shaped like girls--flat stomaches, tiny body structure, without longing for the days when I was like them. In my mind, that's the perfect body.
And I know it's unrealistic for me. Sometime in the past few years, my body decided to become all womanly (damn all the biking for giving me thighs!), and I don't think there's anything I can do about it but accept it. I look at the bonier actresses at the theatre--one to whom I'd like to sit down and feed a good big meal, who said, "since I lost 20 pounds, I haven't stopped working for one single week."--and cringe. I know I don't want my ribs to protrude.
But it's so hard to just ignore all of it. One of the main topics of conversation sometimes among some of Tim's female friends is how much they hate their bodies, and how they need to lose weight. At least--I suppose--they make sure to eat healthily and work out a lot, instead of just complaining. It's hard to listen to that a lot, though.
posted by LE at 11:58 AM
1 Comments:
This was a big reason why I loved NY. All the men are hot as hell, and all the women are thick and juicy.
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