1. It occurred to me recently that I spend so much time focusing on the fact that I dislike the shape and proportions of my body that I forget to be thankful for the fact that, despite all the things I loathe about it, it is strong and healthy. Which is, afterall, its most important function* – no matter what our perniciously pervasive media tell us.
I mean, really, I don’t remember the last time I was ill. Even with a cold.
So far, I have been extremely lucky and have not had a major health-scare. One case of a moderate allergic reaction to an antibiotic and some issues with my skin which are now well under control. Other than that, all the bits may not be quite as good as new, but they nonetheless seem to be in decent working order.
And not only is my body healthy, but it is also strong enough to allow me to do things like canyoning, scuba diving, kayaking and running without any problem. Okay, so its sometimes tough at the time and my muscles ache a little the next day, but its discomfort rather than pain. And with no lasting damage as far as I can tell, other than natural wear and tear.
I take reasonably good care of it, mind you. I eat a pretty balanced diet and I don’t smoke or drink alcohol, apart from a very occasional glass of shandy. Plus I’m sure the yoga helps, even if its not practiced as regularly as it probably should be.
When I consider all the people I know who have serious health issues such as cancer or chronic back pain or who are on constant medication for diabetes or asthma etc, I realise how grateful I should be.
So, anyway, thanks Body. Good job. Well done and please keep it up!
2. On Saturday night I went to the Bondi Short Film Festival with some girlfriends. While there we met another group of people, among whom was a single chap. We’ll call him Tall Pilot Guy. He was good looking and obviously (I thought) significantly younger than me, so I mentally consigned him to the ‘Probably Never See Him Again’ file and was friendly but made no real effort to engage his attention.
We chatted a little and it turns out he lives on the same street as me. The others went on for a drink after the films, but it was late and I had to be up at 5.30am to go canyoning the next morning, so I jumped in a cab and went home (I believe I mentioned that I’m a Nana?).
Well, colour me surprised as hell, but apparently he asked after me the next day. And wants my number.
3. Then, on Sunday, after canyoning and while I was still un-showered and wearing the grimy shorts and top I’d gone up the mountains in, and with my hair pulled back in a ponytail, I visited my friend in hospital. The one with the new baby. And there was a friend of her husband there when we arrived. A handsome friend with smiley eyes. Holding said baby and looking very comfortable. Let’s call him Twinkly-Eyed Guy.
Again, I thought, “okay, he’s bound to be married or attached or gay or dead or all of the above, so let’s not get interested here. Just be polite.”
We had a nice chat about motorbikes (he has one, I like them immensely and miss riding pillion on one), and about great TV shows (he’s a fan of The Wire which I’ve recently been enjoying on DVD).
Then I toddled off home, after taking some pictures of the proud parents and baby.
I emailed the pics to the Mum on Monday… and then got an email from Twinkly-Eyed Guy (to whom she had forwarded them). After I replied, he sent another and now he has friended me on Facebook.
Of course, neither of these guys is probably remotely interested in me romantically – they never are – but still. Its nice.
* Which reminds me, I once told a school Games teacher that I wasn’t interested in making my body fitter because “as long as it transports my brain around from place to place, that’s all I ask”. How times change!