miss adventures

Mirror, Mirror

On my way out of my Pilates class this afternoon, I caught a glimpse of my body form in the wide mirror spanning the entire length of the room. I took note of the fact that, although I was not fat, I just had acquired so much body. There was something disturbingly womanly about my physique which I had such a dreadful feeling about.

And then I remembered what I had dreamed the night before. I remember seeing myself in the dream, like out of body and third person, only the "me" I was looking at was from maybe 10 years ago. It was more like a teenage girl and she was gaunt and skinny. In reality, I probably have never looked like that in my life. The girl was long-legged and coltish, and even in the dream, it was clear that it was how I imagined that I used to be.

I did used to be much thinner. I looked girlish. I know that I cannot expect more out of my body now than what I presently have. I can't wish that I never got a butt and boobs, and actually, in the words of an old friend, "a little body never hurt anyone."

But, it was then that I realized, I am seriously my own worst enemy. I was coveting a body that I used to have, a person that I used to be, corporeally. I'm racing with myself and loathing things that either were or are within the realm of my control alone. It's a daunting thought, the power that a person's own mind has over them. The idea that you can hate so many things in the world, but primarily you're just battling with yourself.

As a side note, my Pilates instructor today kept calling me, "Michelle" ("Michelle, drop that butt." "Michelle, pull in that navel.") He called me "Michelle" about 3 times before I just accepted it and gave up bothering to correct him; Lord only knows how many times he had called me "Michelle" before that, when I thought he was talking to some chick on the other side of the room. By the end of the class, I had stepped into the identity of a "Michelle" and kind of thought it was my name. So if you see me on the street, and call out, "Michelle!" I may very well turn around.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 7:11 PM 0 comments

The San Diego Diet

I am very embarrassed. I had fried chicken and chocolate cake for breakfast this morning. Then I took a little nap directly afterward.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 12:40 PM 0 comments

The Lessons from The Wizard

It's no wonder I love "The Wizard of Oz" so much. It never fails to captivate me. More than 10 years after having first watched the movie, I am still finding new and delightful details. For example:

1. Whippersnapper. Dorothy and her posse go to see The Wizard and come first to his throne, all flames and green silk curtains ("Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!"). Whenever The Wizard's booming voice responds to their timid questions, the fires go ablaze and the quartet cower back in fear. One such tirade puts the Cowardly Lion on his back, frightened and fainted. Dorothy snaps back at The Wizard, "Now look what you've done!" and the Wizard retaliates back, "QUIET, WHIPPERSNAPPER!" Dictionary.com says that "whippersnapper" means, "someone who is unimportant but cheeky and presumptuous." Brilliant! Man, how many times could I have used the word "whippersnapper" long ere this... and in this scene, it was used absolutely perfectly.

2. Oz = Ireland.Do you notice how Oz is pretty much just, well, Ireland? Aside from the name Emerald City harkening thoughts of the Emerald Isle, some of Oz's residents have a bit of brogue in their speech. Such as the coachman with the multi-colored horse that brings the gang first to the Wizard's palace. Then, you've got the fields and fields of marvelous green and blooming flowers. Plus, the Wizard's played by Frank Morgan. He's gotta be Irish.

3. A heart, a brain, the nerve -- or maybe just Maxim magazine? Dorothy's three best friends are all pretty effeminate. It was charming and comedic back then, and it's charming and comedic now. But I realize that a modern audience would think the three of them were gay, with the Scarecrow being the manliest of the lot. For a flimsy, spineless guy who can barely stand to be the macho-man of the group tells you just how much testosterone they collectively share. Even the Cowardly Lion calls himself, "just a dandy lion." And the Tin Man -- my fave -- cries at so many things. He's just so emotional. Today we call that gay, or at best, metrosexual. In 1939, we called that vaudevillian. Oh, why did times have to change?

4. Toto. Maybe the best dog ever. His little paw reaches out and shakes Dorothy's hand while she's singing about the lovely things just over the rainbow.

5. Dorothy's courage. We could all learn something from that. Her beautiful voice, too.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 6:20 PM 0 comments