take a seat: the question I've been dodging
pull up a chair, I'll answer it...
WALK WITH ME SIT WITH ME
I first heard the phrase, ‘sitting is the new smoking’ on the radio while driving through a snowstorm in Detroit. It was during a segment on the importance of daily exercise, the year was 2013, and that was the last time I ever sat down… willingly.
Back then I’d dogmatically follow any piece of health or fitness advice I heard, therefore I tried to quit sitting, although abstaining is trickier to do than with, say, nicotine. But from that point on, I’d opt to stand whenever I could, anywhere from parties to sending emails from my kitchen counter. To avoid significant sitting, walking became my transportation, even when that seemed like an odd, time-consuming choice.
I always preferred being a pedestrian even before I heard the radio segment that villainized chairs. I’d walk to class in college instead of taking the bus even if it meant I was late. I’d walk to meetings in NYC instead of taking the subway, and by then, I knew I’d be late. (Eventually, picked up my pace for promptness.)
When I moved to LA, I was terrified that this city known for traffic would put a dent in my step count. When I moved, workout studios were closed for the pandemic and since I lived with roommates during lockdown, I was too bashful to stream online classes, so walking became my only form of fitness.
By the time studios reopened, I’d determined my preferred routes, trails, HOKA size—and that I’d never pay to exercise again. According to my phone, 4 years later, I still take more steps per day here where I own a car, than I did in NYC when walking was my main mode of transportation.
That all changed last month when my Apple alerted me of a trend in my activity data…
In the 9 weeks since I broke my leg…
I have not taken one step.
I have not even stood (on two feet without crutches).
I have, however, eaten daily, despite spending most of the day sitting.
All of this would be 22-year-old me’s worst nightmare. It’s no dream to current me either, but it doesn’t break me like it would have a decade ago.
In the age of Ozempic and impossible beauty standards, most of us have a complex relationship with our bodies and food in some way. I sure do, which I wrote recently here & here, so I didn’t think I’d write about it again so soon. Yet when photos of my cast surfaced on IG and in this issue, I got a surprising number of questions from both strangers and friends specifically about, how I was eating while unable to exercise and if I worried about my body changing.
While I anticipated my body might change while in a cast, I did not predict anyone would ask me about it. So I marked these messages as unread, not knowing how to respond. After a few weeks, I began receiving follow ups. One night while double screening while watching TV, on my phone I accidentally opened one that said:
I didn't want to leave it on read, response-less—so I paused the TV to answer it. Here’s what I wrote:
I got several versions of this question and the real reason it took me so long to respond is because a vein, familiar desire to restrict what I ate, crept in once I realized I’d barely be able to move for months while my bones healed. My tendency to restrict food amps up in periods of discomfort, where I crave both: familiarity and control.
I didn’t want to admit to the askers (or myself) that I haven’t grown out of this habit. Or that, I still ponder how my clothes fit, just as I did when I was a teenager despite being an age, where I also ponder; my biological clock, graying hair, aging parents, my 401k…
But unlike when I was a teen, I have cognitive behavioral tools to help me to think about my body less, such as, not weighing myself. I even turn around at the doctor’s office because knowing the number on the scale only causes me to judge myself in either direction. This means fluctuations in my weight are indicated in two ways: how my clothes fit or how people talk about my body around me.
So, a shift in my current size didn’t become apparent to me until I returned from a month of housesitting. I’d only packed a few baggy clothes I’d worn repeatedly. When I got home, I eagerly changed into a favorite outfit, only to be awoken to the jarring, yet anticipated reality: clothes that were loose last month, now cannot button.
I’d love to tell you I handled it maturely, with poise, but that would be a lie…
The truth is:
I cried a little, before moving into the popular grief phase known as: denial. I told myself, that perhaps the skirt had shrunk, or I was bloated, which made me feel better until…the next unavoidable size indicator reached me….
Leaving the house was especially tricky early on, so when I began socializing a bit, people kept commenting, “you look so healthy now,” which my brain translates to: “you look bigger now.” While I know it is meant as a genuine compliment, it’s a phrase I heard frequently a decade ago when I saw people for the first time after finishing eating disorder treatment. Similarly, when I overhear: “she’s so tiny,“ my brain makes it mean that my size has likely gone down.
Anyone who would change their perception of someone based on their body size or appearance changing, is not anyone I want to know. Yet when my own weight fluctuates, there’s someone who’s knee jerk reaction is to temporarily change their perception of me …
and that asshole is:
me.
Ugh.
I’d tell any friend that their body is the least interesting thing about them, yet my self-consciousness amps up when mine changes. Embarrassingly, when I notice clothes I’m used to fitting, are suddenly tight—it leads me to feel less confident, leading me to me to self-isolate, which becomes a positive feedback loop.
This is a subconscious, deep rooted pattern, but since it’s not my first rodeo with it, I have tools to stop a physical change from becoming a mental spiral.
One, is to ask myself: so what?
The came from my wise friend Lauren who asked me, so what? when she saw me try on the outfit I didn’t expect to be tight. …so what if my clothes don’t fit? Sure, it’s expensive to get replacements and potentially disappointing ie, my vintage scores, but, it doesn’t mean anything about me.
This is one of the plethora of lessons I’ve been forced to learn, or frustratingly relearn…
MY SEDENTARY SUMMER IS TEACHING ME:
How to feed myself… without trying to control my body to be a size it’s not meant to be.
To examine how much of my self-worth is linked to my physical appearance. Because even if I’m actively hating myself, I am still thinking about…myself. Therefore the only effective way out is to be useful to others—it’s not altruism, it’s a selfish attempt to flea my spiraling mind.
I thought I couldn’t help others while down myself, but turns out: I can…we always have something to give each other, even if it’s just our attention.
Perhaps the most challenging lesson of all is: to SIT…
…with all the uncomfortable emotions the rest of these lessons stir up.
Pull up a chair, if you too need to learn any of these lessons on my annoyingly mandatory summer syllabus. I’m working through them and am begrudgingly seated for the next lesson this injury forces me to learn…pretty sure I know what it is though…here’s a hint…
While I work on asking for help, I’ll ask you this: what’s your favorite chair? Comment it! Or better yet… inspired by this… top 3 chairs… go!
I’ll start…all 3 of mine are: standing, but I think that’s why I’m failing summer school…. so I shall choose a chair and report back… in the meantime, I’ll tell you Stella’s favorite…
One of my best friends,
has a tattoo of her number 1 chair. When I choose my top chair, I solemnly swear I’ll tattoo it too. Clearly, I need all the reminders I can get to take a seat.Comment chairs you think I’d be into?
**IMPORTANT NOTE**
The current events are heaps more important and stressful than my mildly inconvenient injury, the vein thoughts it activated in me, or anything I will every ramble about here. In the midst of it all, I hope this is helpful or entertaining.
Thanks for spending the time here reading it.
Your friend,
KD
P.S.
The last two issues I wrote that cover body image and disordered eating contain more resources, including a list of people who have helped shape how I think on this topic, and, a more comprehensive list of what helps me out of what I call a, ‘bad body image spiral.’ And Ellyn Satter’s definition of ‘Normal Eating’ which I share often, but I am including it once again for the people in the back (me) who need to read it again and again…
*RELATED TO WHAT YOU JUST READ: (part 1)
I’ve tried several snacks as a result of learning to use Instacart for the first time… it’s pretty neat. Not sponsored but realllllll open to it, if anyone there is listening call me because those fees sure add up. Honestly nah, the second I’m able to drive and walk again is the second I will never use this service again because one of the pre-injury activities I miss most is running errands alone.
Anyway, so next week I’ll return with the list I promised in the last dispatch which was a list of my…
![summer break [programing]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_140,h_140,c_fill,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep,g_auto/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa5ed1979-dd6a-460e-9c5a-4e365f05a231_3070x1726.jpeg)
…including what I watched, what read, and it was meant to include what I ate. It got too long, but I didn’t forget that list of SNACKS or the contest…stay tuned!
And to tide you over until then… here’s an old round up, or better yet, just go read
*RELATED TO WHAT YOU JUST READ: (part 2)
I have a bunch of clothing I love but no longer fits me! So I’m selling it! I was going to do a story sale but that’s difficult on 1 foot… so… instead it’s all on Depop here or if you’re more of a Poshmark person here you go. Anything you buy supports a girl in a cast to buy things that fit! : )
podCAST LATEST EPISODE…
#453 Long Live: Erika Veurink (Part 2 of 2)
