Good Morning, Denver! Wonderful to see your auras on this fine day. Let’s have a moment of meditation. Breathe in love and siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh appreciation.
Once more…Yes…Good. I appreciate you! So today’s lecture is on body image. I don’t know…I think this is the ego’s favorite thing to talk about, huh? Are you with me? Self-loathing, people. Raise your hand if you feel me.
The other day, I had a breakthrough with one of my subjects. She, like most of the women rolling into my office this time of year, was clucking about gaining five pounds over the holidays. Naturally, I looked into her sad beady eyes and said, “Who fucking cares?”
She puffed out her chest and said, “Well, me, for one! And I’m sure my husband, for two.”
I asked if she was sure about that. She said, “Yeah,” and I said, “How do you know for sure,” and she launched into this harangue about how everywhere she went for the holidays everyone served her favorite foods: hot wings, bacon-wrapped cream cheese stuffed jalapenos, and head cheese.
She was good all year and she deserved to eat it, so here we are. She went on to say that as she was examining her backside in the mirror to see if the newfound weight had started to morph her butt into a “thass” (think cankle but for thighs and asses), and was mortified to discover this weird chicken skin texture under her butt line. Her husband had the misfortune of walking in at that very moment, and she made him (gasp) touch it.
She waited for my reaction. I was speechless (but not because of her story—I was sipping tea).
She continued on about how her husband touched it, and then he said the damning thing: “Wow.”
I said, “Wow.”
She said, “Riiiiiight?”
I said that she should probably see an ornithologist about that. She agreed, then lamented about how her favorite skinny jeans give her a muffin top and she’s too fat to wear the boots her husband bought her for Christmas. She looked to the heavens and asked why she couldn’t gain five pounds in her boobs and lips—mostly the boobs.
She admitted to eating kelp pills to lose weight. Then she resolved that she would have to break out the size 4’s until saying “no” to breakfast and “hello” to morning-fast(ing) started to work.
She yelled, “Bacon is the devil!”
Well, you know what I did? I slammed my latest copy of Psychology Today on the floor and commanded, “STOP!”
She looked at me like a little lost bird. I told her that what I was about to say was going to feel like an attack, but it isn’t. She closed her eyes and braced herself.
I said, “You are a skinny-bitch, and I love you.”
She raged, “No! I’m fat!”
I said, “You’re skinny. And you are an asshole. You are forgiven.”
She lifted up her shirt and pinched her side and screamed in a demonic voice, “This is more than an inch!”
I held her down and whispered, “Listen up, bitch. That’s about two centimeters and you suck at math. But this illusion is not your fault. We live in a world where ‘Jessica [I gotta drop a deuce] Simpson Shares Impressive Weight Loss Pic’ is actually a headline. You are loved.”
Her head spun around twice, then she spit out a slimy green kelp pill.
I said, “Gross.”
She apologized. I helped her up, and she thanked me. I asked, “How do you feel?”
And you know what that beautiful soul said? She told me she felt much better, and she was starving. I offered her some sunflower seeds. She declined; she wondered if I had some organic bacon. I did. She had a protein snack and left with a big smile on her face.
Although I did see her flap her arms a few times in a mad frenzy to do several jumping jacks before she got into her car (she thought I couldn’t see her), I know she is at least now aware that she is a skinny-bitch.
My friends, I feel confident in saying that she has moved from “unconscious incompetence” to “conscious incompetence.” (For a super boring explanation of what the hell that is click here)
Yes, yes, let’s clap for that…So what do we take from this? That’s right. It’s not our fault. We want to love and be loved but we’re getting eye-fucked by the media every day.
Let us conclude with our judgments floating…away… on… a…leaf. Let in the love. So be it.