Actually, it’s more like post-adipose derma-positivity.
Specifically, I mean those heaps of skin you have left after losing a shiz ton of blobby insulation tissue from your body.
Ya know? Like this chick?
(The one who got rejected entry from that weight loss mag for not sheathing her excess flesh? The bastards?)
Now that’s worthy of a well done, round-of-applause, and a cookie (actually – maybe not on that last one; might set the addiction off anew and send some folk back into filling up the flaps all over again). This (however unsightly it is to others and however shameful it feels – like a cross to bear for sins of lifestyles past), is a show of progress. Battle scars which ultimately can be supplanted with surgery scars if and when you get it removed. And that – once you know the back story and all the self-discipline that goes with these transformation tales – merits celebration for sure. It’s deserving of “body positivity” because it’s a reflection of coming away from an unhealthy habit.
And the dude in this video definitely falls into that category.
Now, as a human who grew up in the society I did, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t initially repulsed.
I mean, I’m disgusted when I see my own stretch marks on my inner thigh. Can’t even enjoy a good Buffalo Bill dance-party self interrogation in the looking glass about whether I’d eff me or not because I start to say yes, then see the horrible gam slashes, and instead ironically employ the one-liner from Fat Amy: “Betta Not…” And I tend to feel I’m not alone. That’s why I try to counter these superficial feelings as much as possible and attempt to hear the message despite the distraction – see what’s underneath. Underneath this dude is an insecure person like me, who came away from a dependency like I did – his just happened to be to food – and is still dealing with the aftermath of that; the human condition of not being ideal and answering for your past transgressions against yourself on a near daily basis.
And what’s that hafta do with “adipositivity”? In a previous post about “celebrating body” image, I concurred that we should always celebrate our bodies. But I also added that if our bodies are in a condition that’s detrimental to our health, we can still love ’em while we’re changing them. In fact, that’s vital. It’s the only way to be truly positive without lying to yourself. To paraphrase a friend, “self love is one thing, but some’a these people are throwing parties for their FUPAS”. Right? Shouldn’t the parties happen when we self-improve? When we meet our next weight loss goal? Get through a day or week keeping the X-calorie diet the doc issued?
Positivity? Yes.
But maybe we should switch from ad(d)ipositivity to subtracti-positivity.
Which is why I’m in above dude and chick’s corners when it comes to celebrating how you look. Namely, if it reflects healthy progress – pretty or not – we bust out the streamers, balloons, and kazoos. Anything else is a denial fiesta. The metaphor I try to enlist to help me out is to treat my body like it’s a lover (#saucy). Outta the million cheeky things that could mean (just one really), what I’m suggesting is: don’t enable the body’s entitlement cycle just ’cause you went on a self-serving lent diet (BTW when did religious tradition become an excuse to do a coconut water fast and drop ten pounds? “Two birds, one stone – which you can’t cast at me ’cause you’re not without sin either”). Anyway, in keeping with the treat-the-meat-puppet-you-live-in-like-your-main-squeeze theme, I’ll ask this: how do you love your sig other? Well, by improving their lives somehow – I’d hope; by being your best you. Or, in this case, by treating your boney bloody life vessel well. Do you show someone you love them by punishing them all day long? Like a food addict punishes their body with burgers, pies, and fries? No. You show you love them by taking care of yourself first so that you can improve their lives too by giving a shit. In that way, your spirit-brain-psyche-whatever is the “you” in the relache. And your body’s either your bow-shouldered brow-beaten hubz or a total Gosling who makes you wanna wake up early to put on full makeup for. You choose which one it is with your habits, just like En Vogue taught me: “Free your mind and the rest’ll follow.” (In all legit-ness, I used to think they were saying “…and your ass will follow”.) To be fair, my misheard lyrics may work even better here. ’cause even though this dude may have ended up with an ab apron and pendulous pecs, he’s got this kinda vulnerability-confidence combo that shines through as alluring and attractive the second he speaks openly. Just like I’ve seen with a lotta other (grog, grub, drug, and lust) addicts who’ve got recovery time under their belt gain.
No matter how big or loose that belt was to start with.
So keep going, you schmexy, fetching, courageous Rufio looking creature.