I’ve uncovered a truth about the oneness of my body and mind. My physical body thrives when it is allowed to exist in its truest purpose and artistic form. I was created to exist and thrive in art filled spaces. All my movements and sounds are most potent and true in the form of synchronized artistic performance with all energies existing around me. When I am not thriving in harmony with the living organisms of the universe, my body’s outer shell begins slowly dying. Performing the arts in line with creation is the active force that keeps my chakras aligned and opened. The freezing lifeless existence within the construct of society keeps me in bondage and is poising the air that I breathe. My life was never meant to feed on assigned quotas, dictated beauty, fabrications of existence, or even to race against the social construct of time. Life has always been a graceful dance and a melodic song that fortifies the universe and heals the wounded within. Our society punishes those who dwell within this purpose filled artistic existence. Have you ever heard of the starving artists? We feel the crushing weight of capitalism coercing us to give ear to the ultimatum, conform or starve. You have been reading my blogs. Yes? We’ve established so far that I love to eat. Right? Therefore, here I am, in this class trying to make one last attempt to conform for the promise of tomorrow’s meal. I have made myself a promise, however, I will return to my purpose, and live in it unapologetically. Until then, I forgive myself for wanting to eat. You should forgive yourself too but do remember to get back out there before the final number and show the universe how much you really care. Without you dear reader, there is no me.

What are we willing to do to be thought of as pretty or beautiful? Many of us believe so deeply that if we were the textbook definition of beautiful some person will finally love us the way we deserve to be loved. They would fall in love each time they look at us. They will fear losing us and worship the ground that we walk on daily. I think about the hardships I’ve endured in love and the trauma and pain that was inflicted on me by people who didn’t even find me the least bit attractive. I was a zero to them, an empty holding place waiting for the right woman to come take their rightful place and then I would be discarded. I have been audaciously accused of having low self-esteem or low self-image. This is an untruth. I truly believe that we live in a world where people are so shallow that my beauty will never be seen or appreciated. Many people are obsessed with fakeness, and many don’t even know it. The media portrayal of beauty is airbrushed and photoshopped to the highest of heavens. Fabricated beauty is a force-fed high that is infused into the minds of people who will chase it to the ends of the earth (as round as it may be). Sometimes it seems as if the natural arrangement of the human anatomy is no longer the acceptable example of what should attract us. So, lets for a minute look at what happens when we go along with the process and have our bodies altered to fit the cookie cutter idea of beauty. What happens then to the soul of those lucky persons who can acquire the perfect body or look? Do they remain humble or kind? Do they remember how to react or interact with their friends and family? The answer is not always. As a matter of fact, many people don’t know how they fit into their lives anymore. They are new to all the attention, new to the growing attractions of others to them, and sometimes they convince themselves that their peers and family members are jealous of the changes that they are going through. They feel envied for their newfound pretty privilege. How useful is a new lovely body when new wickedness lies within?

With each day growing darker and colder its a wonder that I can still see and that I don’t freeze to death. My body betrays me. I am far to young to feel the vice grip of the inevitable death by obesity. Each visit to the doctor is the same. My concerns are either psychosomatic or a result of my weight. Tuh! Imagine that all my aches and pains are in my mind and if I wasn’t fat, I wouldn’t believe that I’m sick anymore. Is this all that we have gained from modern medicine? I remember thinking to myself that if I could just heat up a huge knife and just cut my stomach off… I could just heal from the burn, but the fat would be gone. I am fully aware that the notion is irrational and absurd when it’s said aloud but nevertheless it was my honest thought process. I spoke to a dear friend who shall remain nameless for the sake of privacy. They offered to pay for liposuction if I found a good surgeon in the area. I called around feverishly. The verdict is out, I am not a candidate for liposuction because my BMI is far too high. My response is one of confusion and hopelessness. How can they expect me to lose half of my body weight before they will consider me for the procedure? Must I truly lose weight before I can lose fat? I began to wonder; how many people probably made this their last attempt before accepting defeat? How many people received this news and then chose to give up on life? Even I was tempted to give up on living in this foreign vessel. What then will happen to those people who cannot imagine living in their bodies for even one more day without a viable solution to address their obesity? Does anyone working in the weight loss industry consider the rejection part of the process? Does anyone even care what happens to people who deal with rejection as a microaggression for years only to be rejected by the very professionals they seek out for help? After this thought process of how easy it is to just give up, I began to make rules for myself regarding eating habits. I will never eat alone. I will never eat in front of strangers. I suffer with such guilt when I eat. I speak to myself saying, “I’m so fat, haven’t I eaten enough”, or “haven’t I eaten more than my share?”. To eat when I’ve clearly overeaten makes me a glutton, doesn’t it? Now that I’m riddled with guilt, I just starve myself because, “how dare I feel entitled to food without a pressing reason to eat?”. The new understanding of the acronym BMI: Bodies Managed Insanely