In honor of this blog's name, everyday beauty, I continually try to find ways to enhance the beauty that surrounds me, both inside and out. And while a good, sweaty workout doesn't make me look particularly pretty, it has such far-reaching benefits I can no longer deny its importance. It sounds like I am stating the obvious, but it took me a long time to get back to this belief.
I am a natural mesomorph with endomorph tendencies. I was extremely active and athletic as a youth. I spent all my free time outdoors, would be called inside for dinner, and then went back out until dark--year round. Bike riding, sailing, skate boarding, roller skating, tennis, mountain climbing, canoeing, ice skating, soccer, ballet, volleyball, long walks on the beach (no, this is not a personal ad), swimming, and just walking everywhere. As an undergrad I waited tables, and what great exercise that was! All that running around and lifting heavy trays ... and then after work, we'd all go out dancing.
After school and my first desk job, my life became more sedentary. I had never been a gym goer, and almost all of my previous exercise had been incidental, done out of fun or necessity (e.g., get from point A to B). I was no longer doing much of that, and I gained a few pounds, and here is where I made my first mistake. I was not willowy. I was curvy and muscular, with a J-Lo bubble butt, which was not the same figure I saw splashed across glossy magazine ads in the 80s and 90s, where models first appeared with their skinny-fat girl-boy figures, with no muscle tone or boobs, and which later morphed into that hideous "heroin chic" look. How I ever believed scrawny and dirty was an attractive look is completely beyond me now, but when I started looking into taking off a few pounds, these images in Vogue or Elle, and the laughably skinny models in Shape magazine were what I saw. None of those women was shaped like me, even at my ideal weight.
Interwoven through all that model weirdness came the new Food Pyramid, the second worst thing that ever happened to me (and to the world, in my opinion, but I'll save that rant for a future article). I followed the 90s diet religiously, eating tons of carbs and 10-20% fat, but I was hungry all the time. I felt like I had no willpower, a moral defect in character. I'd starve myself only to give in to the hunger such that I would overeat, getting ready for the next famine. As you can imagine, my body dysmorphia was already full steam ahead by then.
When I look back at photographs of myself from those two decades, I am amazed that I ever thought I was fat. What I would give to avoid all the trauma and self loathing I had put myself through. But like so many of us, I took what I read and saw to heart. I messed with nature in my attempt to have thighs like a racehorse and slender arms and put myself through long cycles of abstinence followed by bingeing, which caused unwanted weight gain.
In hindsight, I can safely say that the worst thing I ever did was go on my first diet because that set in motion a pattern of weight gain. Yes, I dieted myself fat. I'd lose 10 pounds quickly and then slowly gain back 15. Lose 10 again, and gain back 15, never quite losing the whole amount I had gained back each time. Rinse, repeat. Thus, a slow but steady weight gain became my life, almost unnoticeable at first, when it occurred in those 5-pound increments. Denial is a powerful thing, and I managed to convince myself that my pants had shrunk in the dryer. If you've been there, you know exactly what I'm talking about. That this apparel "shrinkage" occurred during a time when all pants started including lyrca in them, even jeans, those small gains weren't as noticeable because everything stretched and the thicker material held back the flub. I also encountered, for the first time, vanity sizing. Since the size of apparel I pulled off the rack wasn't increasing at an alarming rate, I was good, right?
The media wasn't all bad in the 90s. One of the best things to come out of that decade was a new magazine called Mode. It positioned itself as a plus-sized magazine (and featured models up to size 22), but most of the models were between size 12-16, which had become the average size for women in the US. And the clothes were glorious! No poorly-made Lane Bryant or Fashion Bug for we fatties. No, inside those glossy pages I found designers such as Roberto Cavalli, Marina Rinandi, Tomatsu, Ellen Tracy, Donna Karan, Kenzo, Versace, Ralph Lauren, Eli Tahari, Eileen Fisher, and more! In some ways, Mode was like the plus-sized version of Voguebecause it showed current trends from the runway, interpreted for larger models. It was beautiful, and Kate Dillon was one of its most gorgeous models.
I was so depressed when the magazine was canceled. I guess even fat women didn't want to see fat women in their fashion magazines, and there has never been another plus-sized magazine to take its place.
Now that I am older and wiser, I mourn for my sad, younger self who tried so desperately to reshape my body with diet into something nature had never intended. Getting older does give one perspective--it's really a shame no one was available to set me straight back then. I could have avoided a lot of mistakes.
But the single best thing I can do for my looks and mental state is to work up a sweat. I look around at women who are older than I and observe that the most beautiful ones are all physically active. They might not be doing anything as structured as going to the gym (though my mother goes to Curves 5 days a week), but they are all quite active, whether it's a morning walk with the dog, vigorous gardening, yard work, or whatever they enjoy doing. Mrs. Perkins who lives down the street must be at least 85, and she and her husband still do all their own raking in the fall. I am guessing their level of activity has kept them in good health into their advanced years and will keep them fit and vigorous even longer still.
I was so happy and full of joy in my active years, but I had gotten quite lazy and depressed in the 90s. Combining a desk job with a frequent case of The Awfukits from having gained weight, I felt like I had so far to go, and so it all seemed so pointless. But there I go with that black-and-white thinking again. Getting started is hard, but when I set small and reasonable goals, the task ahead did not seem quite so insurmountable. Having once been an athlete, I was happy to discover that my body had excellent muscle memory.
Incidental exercise is more challenging now. I live in the suburbs where nothing is close enough to walk to. My office building has no stairs. My weekends are so full with chores, I have almost no time for anything fun. So I actually had to ponder doing intentional exercise. I thought CrossFit looked like fun, but my one and only experience with that had me barfing in the bushes, so I needed to do something more appropriate for my current level of fitness. And that is where I discovered kettlebells. After doing various workouts, I discovered the SKOGG system (not affiliated), and I actually find myself looking forward do it. The whole point is to maximize my pleasure over time, and this fits the bill.
All I need is one kettlebell and not much floor space. And after several weeks, I have discovered that a half hour is an easy commitment. And it has started to make my life look and feel more beautiful.
Do you get the level of activity you think your body needs?
I am a natural mesomorph with endomorph tendencies. I was extremely active and athletic as a youth. I spent all my free time outdoors, would be called inside for dinner, and then went back out until dark--year round. Bike riding, sailing, skate boarding, roller skating, tennis, mountain climbing, canoeing, ice skating, soccer, ballet, volleyball, long walks on the beach (no, this is not a personal ad), swimming, and just walking everywhere. As an undergrad I waited tables, and what great exercise that was! All that running around and lifting heavy trays ... and then after work, we'd all go out dancing.
After school and my first desk job, my life became more sedentary. I had never been a gym goer, and almost all of my previous exercise had been incidental, done out of fun or necessity (e.g., get from point A to B). I was no longer doing much of that, and I gained a few pounds, and here is where I made my first mistake. I was not willowy. I was curvy and muscular, with a J-Lo bubble butt, which was not the same figure I saw splashed across glossy magazine ads in the 80s and 90s, where models first appeared with their skinny-fat girl-boy figures, with no muscle tone or boobs, and which later morphed into that hideous "heroin chic" look. How I ever believed scrawny and dirty was an attractive look is completely beyond me now, but when I started looking into taking off a few pounds, these images in Vogue or Elle, and the laughably skinny models in Shape magazine were what I saw. None of those women was shaped like me, even at my ideal weight.
Interwoven through all that model weirdness came the new Food Pyramid, the second worst thing that ever happened to me (and to the world, in my opinion, but I'll save that rant for a future article). I followed the 90s diet religiously, eating tons of carbs and 10-20% fat, but I was hungry all the time. I felt like I had no willpower, a moral defect in character. I'd starve myself only to give in to the hunger such that I would overeat, getting ready for the next famine. As you can imagine, my body dysmorphia was already full steam ahead by then.
When I look back at photographs of myself from those two decades, I am amazed that I ever thought I was fat. What I would give to avoid all the trauma and self loathing I had put myself through. But like so many of us, I took what I read and saw to heart. I messed with nature in my attempt to have thighs like a racehorse and slender arms and put myself through long cycles of abstinence followed by bingeing, which caused unwanted weight gain.
In hindsight, I can safely say that the worst thing I ever did was go on my first diet because that set in motion a pattern of weight gain. Yes, I dieted myself fat. I'd lose 10 pounds quickly and then slowly gain back 15. Lose 10 again, and gain back 15, never quite losing the whole amount I had gained back each time. Rinse, repeat. Thus, a slow but steady weight gain became my life, almost unnoticeable at first, when it occurred in those 5-pound increments. Denial is a powerful thing, and I managed to convince myself that my pants had shrunk in the dryer. If you've been there, you know exactly what I'm talking about. That this apparel "shrinkage" occurred during a time when all pants started including lyrca in them, even jeans, those small gains weren't as noticeable because everything stretched and the thicker material held back the flub. I also encountered, for the first time, vanity sizing. Since the size of apparel I pulled off the rack wasn't increasing at an alarming rate, I was good, right?
The media wasn't all bad in the 90s. One of the best things to come out of that decade was a new magazine called Mode. It positioned itself as a plus-sized magazine (and featured models up to size 22), but most of the models were between size 12-16, which had become the average size for women in the US. And the clothes were glorious! No poorly-made Lane Bryant or Fashion Bug for we fatties. No, inside those glossy pages I found designers such as Roberto Cavalli, Marina Rinandi, Tomatsu, Ellen Tracy, Donna Karan, Kenzo, Versace, Ralph Lauren, Eli Tahari, Eileen Fisher, and more! In some ways, Mode was like the plus-sized version of Voguebecause it showed current trends from the runway, interpreted for larger models. It was beautiful, and Kate Dillon was one of its most gorgeous models.
I was so depressed when the magazine was canceled. I guess even fat women didn't want to see fat women in their fashion magazines, and there has never been another plus-sized magazine to take its place.
Now that I am older and wiser, I mourn for my sad, younger self who tried so desperately to reshape my body with diet into something nature had never intended. Getting older does give one perspective--it's really a shame no one was available to set me straight back then. I could have avoided a lot of mistakes.
But the single best thing I can do for my looks and mental state is to work up a sweat. I look around at women who are older than I and observe that the most beautiful ones are all physically active. They might not be doing anything as structured as going to the gym (though my mother goes to Curves 5 days a week), but they are all quite active, whether it's a morning walk with the dog, vigorous gardening, yard work, or whatever they enjoy doing. Mrs. Perkins who lives down the street must be at least 85, and she and her husband still do all their own raking in the fall. I am guessing their level of activity has kept them in good health into their advanced years and will keep them fit and vigorous even longer still.
I was so happy and full of joy in my active years, but I had gotten quite lazy and depressed in the 90s. Combining a desk job with a frequent case of The Awfukits from having gained weight, I felt like I had so far to go, and so it all seemed so pointless. But there I go with that black-and-white thinking again. Getting started is hard, but when I set small and reasonable goals, the task ahead did not seem quite so insurmountable. Having once been an athlete, I was happy to discover that my body had excellent muscle memory.
Incidental exercise is more challenging now. I live in the suburbs where nothing is close enough to walk to. My office building has no stairs. My weekends are so full with chores, I have almost no time for anything fun. So I actually had to ponder doing intentional exercise. I thought CrossFit looked like fun, but my one and only experience with that had me barfing in the bushes, so I needed to do something more appropriate for my current level of fitness. And that is where I discovered kettlebells. After doing various workouts, I discovered the SKOGG system (not affiliated), and I actually find myself looking forward do it. The whole point is to maximize my pleasure over time, and this fits the bill.
All I need is one kettlebell and not much floor space. And after several weeks, I have discovered that a half hour is an easy commitment. And it has started to make my life look and feel more beautiful.
- Prevents loss of lean body mass (that 5-pound muscle loss that experts say we experience every year)
- Increased blood flow provides a beautiful lit-from-within glow that blush can only hope to mimic
- Flushes out water retention, so no more puffbelly or cankles
- Higher body awareness translates to deeper self respect
- Higher activity means better sleep, and we all know why they call it "beauty sleep" because nothing ruins a pretty appearance faster than dark circles and sallow skin
- More energy to do other things
Do you get the level of activity you think your body needs?
