I’ll Have Another Cookie, Please.

Giving the Middle Finger To Desirability Culture and Saying Yes To My Appetites

For awhile, I was getting pretty fit. 8-10 hours a week of playing pickleball will do that for you. I loved that it was the effortless kind of fit—one born out of pleasure and a desire to move my body as opposed to trying to meet society’s beauty standards. I was thrilled that my body was starting to look a certain way because I was doing an activity I enjoyed and not because I was trying to be loved.

But then the old thoughts started to come… I’m already on a roll... if I cut back on sugar and carbs, I could drop down a jean size or too. I could get skinnier…. Maybe not like my size 0 days, but closer to then than I am now. This is my chance, now that I’m burning so many calories without trying.

And then, thankfully, new thoughts showed up to intervene… will losing weight and depriving myself of the foods I love make me less worthy or lovable? And who else do I need to be desirable for but me?

I want a strong and healthy body, not one shaped by the need to turn anyone else on.

Chasing desirability, which I did for years, was like trying to catch an impossible high. It felt good for a moment but then left me empty and wanting more. For the longest time I thought that achieving it, according to whatever the messed up standards were of the day, meant something real. But really, what it was about was me needing outside approval because I didn’t believe I was worthy.

At age 54—my metabolism is slower; my skin has more lines and is drier (the high desert climate of New Mexico where I live doesn’t help). All those hours of pickleball, which made me stronger and more agile, did not cause me to lose more than a couple of pounds. (Thank you, perimenopause, for that.) But, I have never felt more at home in my own skin.

For the first time in decades, I am not overly concerned about what I am seeing when I looked in the mirror. I don’t spend time scrutinizing every perceived flaw and judging myself as not enough. This feeling of being comfortable in my own body is new. And I LOVE it.

Rather than succumb to the old mind chatter and go on another diet or ramp up my exercise regime to the point of unhealthy compulsion, I’m continuing to eat the foods I love until I’m satiated, jean size be damned. I refuse to indulge in one less cookie in this world in the name of desirability ever again. I will not burn one more calorie just to get whoever is standing in front of me to love me more.

Am I doing any of this perfectly? Absolutely not. Besides, trying to do anything flawlessly is so yesterday.

Curious, was there a moment when you realized satisfying your own desires was more important than being desirable to someone else?