Degrees Of Life

Today, I have chosen to wear absurdly tight pants. This decision was spurred by my feelings of intense guilt over eating two bowls of sugary, tasty cereal last night right before bed. This morning, determined to change my ways, I reasonably concluded that the sporting of acutely uncomfortable apparel would discourage me from the consumption of any additional food.

What it has done, of course, is make me feel irritable and quite plump. There is nothing quite like the feel of being stuffed into clothing in a sausage-like manner to make one feel every single ounce of extra weight. As I sit, obsessing over the feel of the pants AND the food that I “should not” eat, my flesh strains against the waistband of the jeans and spills a bit over the top. Attractive, there’s no denying, in a Jabba-the-Hut sort of manner. Were I in the market for an eligible slug-like monstery human-eating bachelor, today would be my day.

Unfortunately, I am not currently in the market for any sort of bachelor, monster or otherwise. What I AM in the market for is a weight loss method that encourages the rampant consumption of peanut butter and sugary cereal, and is still shockingly effective. I suspect that I may be shopping in this particular market for a lo-o-o-o-o-ong time…..

As I manage this flurry of thoughts that whirls around my brain, there is a loud voice – a voice that might, perhaps, fall into the category of “reason” – that is hell-bent on pointing out a few “truths.”

“You are,” says the voice, “fortunate to have those rolls and bulges. That is the flesh that you carry with you into yoga, that you twist and lift into beautiful expressions of self, and that you sleep with every night. It is the same flesh that has seen you through happy times, and through sad times, and that has been – and will be – surrounded by those you love.”

“But,” my Shallow Self protests, “I don’t like the way it looks. It doesn’t fit into the clothes I want to wear. Other people don’t have it.”

“So.” The voice retorts. “What? Get a grip. You are strong. You – every day – can do things that other people will never have a chance to do. There are people in this world that will never have a fraction of what you have, and all you are thinking about is the smallest element of your life – one of the FEW things that you DON’T like. What – in the hell – is wrong with you?”

This is a valid question, which causes Shallow Self to grow resentfully – and a little ashamedly – quiet.

I think, silently, about the article I read this morning – an article about the traffic-related death of a 23-year-old girl. I have already surpassed her life by 8 years. What would she have given to have those 8 years? Would she have been willing to carry 10, 20, 30 pounds for that length of time, if it would have allowed her to live?

The answer is obvious.

In this knowledge, I am faced with the stark reality of the selfishness of my Self. The fact that I have the luxury of “worrying” about carrying weight that is not a health risk – merely a cosmetic issue – is a testament to the GOODNESS of my life. Were I truly suffering - were I truly living a life that did not allow me to be fulfilled - my mind would be consumed with far, far different concerns.

What does this mean for me? It means that I have been given a gift, and that – to some degree – I have been wasting it. How do I change that? It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I am willing to work on changing it. As I do, I will be living an even richer life, and – more importantly – I will appreciate it.