A Letter to My Body – Part 1

Earlier this year, blogher.com invited its members to compose letters addressed to their own bodies. It doesn’t look like the site has had an overwhelming number of takers, but I’m certainly intrigued by the concept. (AMENDED! There is a HUGE list of takers! I’m #140 – just scroll to the bottom of the blogher page that I’ve linked to above to read some astonishing letters.)

When I was in middle school – a supersmart goody-two-shoes suffocating under the awkward bloat of adolescence – I would daydream about being a disembodied brain. I knew I was smart, and I knew that intelligence had enduring value. But faced with physical tasks, any trace of self-confidence vanished. I hated gym, never participated in any sports, and nearly barfed the first time I was made to run a mile. Couldn’t I just put my brain in a jar? Couldn’t I just discard the cumbersome shell of my body and let my powerful intellect roam unencumbered? I remember being terrified of French kissing my first boyfriend because I just couldn’t stand myself. I didn’t want to get that intimate with someone else because it meant acknowledging the importance of my own body. I simply wasn’t ready to do that. READ MORE

A Sad, Telling Quote

“I’ve never met a woman who loves her own body. Ever.”
~L’Wren Scott, via InStyle

Her clientele and fans included SJP, Nicole Kidman, Penélope Cruz, and Renée Zellweger – a list that encompasses women sporting big, medium, and small boobs, women with curves and sans curves, tall and short women, ivory- and carmel-skinned women, and women with hair colors and styles of all varieties. Scott knew and worked with “elite” bodies of all conformations, and none of them were happy with how they looked. READ MORE

Feline interlude: NAMED

I’m off to Chicago for the weekend. Agenda items include:

+ Drag the ‘rents to see Mike Doughty at Taste of Randolph Street
+ Partake of the Custer Street Fair, which I haven’t attended in AGES, but which was the event of the summer when I was wee
+ Eat myself into a coma, preferably at Edwardo’s
+ Visit Leigh Ann (my beloved shoe pimp) at the Bucktown Fluevog store
+ Finally see Indiana Jones, which I assume will suck, but is the only movie all 4 of us are willing to see. Perhaps I’ll be pleasantly surprised! READ MORE