AND THEN I BOUGHT A SWIMSUIT

What I feel like I looked like trying on swimsuits on Saturday

"What I feel like I looked like trying on swimsuits on Saturday"

I got up early Saturday morning. This is not unusual, but I used the time to treat myself to a good cup of coffee and perfectly toasted bagel from the Coffee Girls Cafe. I sat there lingering and sketching out the garden, making a list of plants I wanted to buy. Then I headed over to Target and Trader Joe's to buy the general stuff that one buys at these stores. It all sounded like a decent plan. I was out and about before the crowds of people showed up. Essentially I knew I would have the shops to myself. But then I stopped in the swimsuit section of Target. 

We are almost a month away from our vacation that involves a beach. I have looked at swimsuits online, but I just don't trust myself to order the right size. Also I feel like $100 is a ridiculous amount of money to spend on swimwear. All of the cute suits I've seen online are about that price. I decided that I would just smash my body into something cheap and be the only person holding a camera while on vacation. I pulled three suits from the rack and headed back to the dressing rooms where I removed all of my clothes under the cold glow of fluorescent lights. I tugged on one of the latest one piece styles that had the doily part on the sternum and cutouts on the sides. I watched as that doily stretched out across my belly and then cringed at how the color of the almost white fabric blended in with my skin. I peeled it off without even attempting the ties. I tried on the next one piece with a ribbed front and thought "OK". It wasn't too bad. The color didn't clash with my skin. Then I turned to the side to look and realized that my body is shaped like a bean. I am a human bean. 

I ended up with my third option, a retro black and white polka-dotted one piece. I felt like the dots distracted you a little from my bean shaped belly. I put my clothes back on and finished my shopping. Then I sat in the car and cried for about five minutes. This is it. This is my body right now. I suppose it's true that you are what you eat and I do eat a lot of beans. I am a round bean with decent legs and gangly arms. I eat kale and mung beans and walk over 12,000 steps a day. And I weigh 170 lbs. I posted that picture of my bean figured portrait not for reassurance that I do not look like that. I don't need to hear that I am beautiful. I certainly don't need to be compared to a 31 week pregnant woman, but I don't need to hear that my body is perfect. These are things I don't need. Because I hear them. I hear all of you telling me that image is not a true representation of me. What I need is to believe that my body is fine and good and beautiful just the way it is right now. I need to look in the mirror and not cringe at this shape, but see it for it's unique beauty. 

I don't know why I am struggling with this or why this has always been a struggle for me. I can remember that summer between being preteen and teenage years when I'd finally lost my baby fat. We were in swimsuits, walking down to the lake and one of our close family friends mentioned that it looked like I'd lost weight. I said "thank you, but I'm still going to try to lose some more." She was adamant that I didn't need to lose anymore. In fact she said that I was skinny enough and that if I lost any more weight, I'd be unhealthy. I looked down at my bean shaped belly with confusion. Was she looking at the same body I was looking at?! Because my body certainly didn't look like any of the  girls that graced the cover of Seventeen. Looking back now, I think that was the only time any one had ever told me that I was skinny enough. I was raised on the idea of thin and wispy and the older so called wiser women in my life warned against eating that second roll. Their advice for removing the bean shape of my belly was to just not eat, making food the reward, a treat. 

I've moved past the food being a treat thing. I eat the way I eat now not because it's healthy, but because it's food I want to eat. I like mung beans and kale. Now I need to move past the idea that there's something wrong with the shape of my body. Hello. My name is Cindy Maddera and my body is shaped like a bean. No, I am not pregnant and if you ask me if I am, I will verbally abuse you so hard you will wish that I had just punched you in the face. Not all women have concave bodies. Beans are beautiful. 

And so is my belly.

BECAUSE YOU ARE OF THAT AGE

Every time I put on one of these gowns I think of Mary Jo from Designing Women. #womenshealth

"Every time I put on one of these gowns I think of Mary Jo from Designing Women. #womenshealth"

I'm not even sure where to begin with this post. I had my yearly women's health exam and before every one gasps out an "are you OK?!?!?!" I will say that I am doing just fine. My doctor is nice and funny and easy to be around which is important when you're trusting someone to touch you uncomfortably. She is also my age. Now usually, I would be pleased about having a doctor who knows about this age of a body. She gets it. She understands what's happening to a female body as she reaches the just about forty age of her life. Except this time around she kept saying things like "we should do some blood work. Cholesterol, sugar, thyroid. Because you are of that age." When I grumbled something about my weight, she just waived it off and said "that's just part of being this age." She didn't seem all that concerned about the four pounds I'd gained since the last visit because I was still exercising  and getting on my mat regularly. Then, even though I am not required to get a mammogram until I'm forty, but because I had "issues" two years ago, she sent me down for a mammogram. Because I am of that age.

Before I go into my rant about "being that age", I have to go on a tangent about mammograms. It's been two years since my last mammogram and the place I go to now has the regular 2D one and a 3D one. The 3D mammogram costs $30 out of pocket because most insurance doesn't cover it. This makes me angry for a number of reasons. First of all the 3D option has shown to be more accurate in detecting cancerous areas than 2D. Though it still requires smashing your boob, it does not require that your boob is smashed as flat as a pancake. The 3D option has reduced the number of call backs and biopsies due to an unsure result of the 2D mammogram. You know that time I had to go in and have two cysts removed because they didn't know if they were cysts or cancer? It's quite possible that would have never happened with if I'd had the 3D mammogram. If I were an insurance company, I'd much rather pay the extra $30 a year for this test than pay for the huge expense of breast cancer treatment, let alone the cost of an unnecessary procedure from an unclear test. But again, that's a completely other tangent and not where I had intended this entry to go.

Any way...my doctor..."being that age"....Every time she said it, I could hear it in her voice that she was saying we were old. At one point I wanted to shake her and tell her to just stop. "We are still young! We are so freaking young! Thirty nine is not old. Forty is not old. We are not old!" I wanted to shout all of this out to her. Yes, it's true that I've put on a few pounds that my usual daily walking and yoga routine is doing nothing to combat. Yes, I recently threw my back out while painting the chicken coop. Every day I notice a new section of my hair going white. I don't mind that really. What I do mind is this idea that cholesterol checks and mammograms are things that we must do because we have gotten older. I do mind the implication that my age has everything to do with my inability to lose a few pounds. I also mind the idea that going to the doctor for a check up is something you do because you are getting older. We take babies to the doctor all the time for check ups. Those old geezer babies with their constant need for doctor visits!  But it's true. I am physically of a certain age. This means I just need to be more mindful to eat more greens and move my body more so that my joints don't settle into one spot. It means that I need to be aware of my cholesterol levels and my glucose levels because, as my doctor said, I cannot change my genetics. Heart disease and diabetes are a thing in my family. She also said that she was sure my HDL levels will be proof of my healthiness. 

Mentally I'm twelve because I still think farts are funny.

NUDGYBONES

Nails did

elephant_soap's photo on Instagram

I've had a few people ask me what I think of my JawBone Up. I've been wearing it for almost a month now, so I think I've had ample time to decide on how I feel about it. How are things going between me and Nudgybones? Well, I think we're getting along pretty well. I've lost five pounds and I don't really feel like my ass is taking on the shape of my chair seat. When I've been sitting too long, I'll get a gently vibration on my wrist. Then I'll get up and walk around the Institute and stick my head in some microscope rooms and check on people. It is recommended that I take at least 10,000 steps a day. I have not struggled to accomplish this, but usually end my day with well over 10,000 steps. 

The app for Nudgybones is easy to use with all kinds of notification options. I've left things set so that I get a few notifications throughout my day telling me how many steps I've walked. This keeps me from constantly checking my phone and obsessing about steps. Also, the app is very encouraging. It's always saying that I'm doing a great job. On New Year's Eve, it told me that I'd earned an evening of fun, stay up late and sleep in the next day. I thought that was really nice. The only time I ever feel like it's scolding me is when it talks about how I'm sleeping. I'm either sleeping too much or not sleeping enough. It does this back handed complement thing where it will say "hey, you're bedtimes have been so great this week. try being more consistent in your weekend bedtimes." and then it will give me a suggested bedtime for Saturday night. This is usually when I say "fuck you, Nudgybones. You can't tell me what to do." Really, the audacity of giving me a bedtime. I am a grown up. Plus it's usually a miracle I make it to Saturday Night Live any way. 

In fact, the only times that Nudgybones and I don't really seem to get along is on the weekends. I may get up early on Saturdays to go grocery shopping and run errands, but surprisingly enough, this involves less walking than one would expect. I have started parking the furthest away from the shops to add in some steps, but even with all of that I think I only managed about 4,000 steps on Saturday. Sunday was even worse. I sat on the couch Sunday morning watching CBS and writing. I had taken Nudgy off because it gets in the way of my keyboard. It was sitting next to me on the couch and every once in while I'd hear a buzzzzzit. Every time I'd reach over and check my phone thinking I'd just gotten a text or something. Then I'd remember that it was just Nudgybones telling me to get my ass off the couch. Occasionally, I'd yell back at it "It's Sunday!" Nudgybones doesn't understand the concept of Day of Rest. Not that I was a complete sloth on Sunday. I did laundry, dusted EVERYTHING, and vacuumed. Nudgybones was not all that impressed though.

For the most part, I think Nudgybones and I have a great working relationship and maybe we just need a break from each other on the weekends.