Beauty: maybe it's time for me to work out what it is for me?

I've been thinking about beauty today. And I've been realising that, while I know that I vacillate around wanting it, I'm not sure I know any more what it is.

I know beauty's subjective. What's pleasing to one person's eye does absolutely nothing for someone else. And that's not only true of build, complexion, muscle tone, bone structure, or hair or eye colour. It's just as valid for manner, attitude, confidence, grace... any of the below-the-surface attributes that are sometimes held up as aspects of "real beauty" when people want to believe it's a virtue that lies wholly beneath the skin. But what strikes one person as tactful, considerate and gentle can strike another as being a disingenuous, passive-aggressive, self-sacrificing doormat.  And what one person sees as having confidence in themselves and their unique strengths can strike another as arrogant self-delusion and wilful ignorance of their faults.

I know the more I learn about beauty, the less I know what it is for me. Beauty, after all, is all in the eye of the beholder.  And when something's that subjective, that open to individual variation, how can we possibly have any kind of collective agreement about what constitutes it?  Without a collective agreement, we each have to decide what beauty really is to us. But how exactly are we supposed to figure that out when we're constantly bombarded with messages about what we should consider to be beautiful?  I know that super-slender, super-made-up, super-airbrushed fashion magazine models don't register as beautiful to me (well, most of them don't, anyway - occasional exceptions occur).  Nor, I feel very awkward in saying, because I want to believe I'm more open and tolerant than this, do obese people - at least not physically, although I've met some with definite inner beauty that awes me. In fact, I realise as I write this that physical extremes of any kind don't register as "beautiful" to me. Nor do androgynous men (although, oddly, sometimes androgynous women do... I have no idea what's up with that).  But these are all examples of what I don't find beautiful.  It doesn't help to answer what, exactly, I do.

I know I'm... conflicted... about my own physical "beauty".  Some days, I truly, truly  feel beautiful. I see myself in the mirror, and my eyes seem big, dark and sparkling, my skin seems clear, my hair behaves itself as it falls sleekly down my back, and my clothes seem to flatter my shape (larger than socially desirable though it may be) and fall in nice lines that flaunt the curves I enjoy having, and hide the ones I don't.  I'm at peace with myself and even I can see it in the reflection looking back at me.

Other days, though, I just can't feel it.  My hair is a wirebrush rat's nest that refuses to co-operate with anything I try to do it - my skin seems to create enough oil to solve the world's energy crisis - the circles under my eyes pulse like black holes - and nothing I wear hides the rolls of extra flesh that have come with growing older.  And don't get me started on the not-just-skin-deep stuff. On those kinds of days?  I snap and I snarl and I snipe at the people who love me. I'm irritable and self-absorbed. I act like an inconsiderate toddler throwing a kindergarten tantrum - and even as I'm doing it, I wonder how anyone could possible see *this* and think it's attractive.

Sometimes, people I care about - people I trust - tell me I'm beautiful.  When I'm feeling that way to start with, the recognition - the acknowledgement and affirmation that I'm not deluding myself - is a precious gift, and the smile that lights up my face as I thank whoever said it is 100% genuine.  When I'm not, I try to smile and say thank you anyway - but I wonder if the person who complimented me can tell that it hasn't sunk in. I wonder if they can see that my inner saboteur has taken their well-meant words, and is in the process of tearing each one into bleeding shreds like a rabid wolf with its prey.

Sometimes I can pretend I don't give a damn about beauty.  I tell myself I'm deeper than that. That my mind is occupied with far more important things.  That caring about being beautiful is allowing the outwardly-focussed, materialistic culture I live in to dictate what does or doesn't have worth in my life - to impose its standards on me. On days like that, I try to reject those standards, and simply be who I am, in the body I've been given, in clothes that feel comfortable, and with the minimum amount of fuss and bother I can possibly manage.   Other times I realise that actually, feeling beautiful feels good... and I want that feeling as often as possible. So I find myself searching for clothes and makeup that will flatter me, doing exercise that will shape me, playing with skin care that will fix my complexion issues, and attempting inner work that will transform me.  All with the goal and hope and dream of being a generally beautiful person - inside and out.

Like I said, I'm thoroughly conflicted.  And I think it's time to openly acknowledge it.

I'm not sure where to go with this realisation. I think I've known it for a long time, but I'm not sure if I've verbalised it before.  I'm fairly certain it's a big part of why I'm often so conflicted about my weight loss, and why I've done far, far better with the practical goal of losing weight for Trailwalker than I ever did when I just aimed for a number on the scale, a specific dress size, or the ability to squeeze back into those damn leather pants.

I think there's probably a lot more beauty-related musings inside me still to be explored.  But I wanted to get these thoughts down into writing now, in the hope they'll prompt some kind of epiphany somewhere off down the track. Maybe one day I'll be able to figure out what beauty actually is to me. And when that happens? Maybe I'll finally know whether it's something worth the constant struggle to achieve.

One small step for style, one giant leap for body image

So yesterday I did a huge, giant, enormous, big brave thing.  No, really.

Are you ready for this?

OK, here it is then: I wore boots, leggings and a mid-thigh-length tunic to work.

*GASPPPPPP!*

"Why is this such a big deal?", I hear you ask.

Well, it's like this, see.  All of us have bits of our bodies we're... not as happy with as we could be, right?  In my case, the "bits I'm not happy with" are pretty much everything below the waist.  And I have my reasons: I have a weirdass lymphatic circulation thingy going on, which means that even when I was at my alltime skinniest and friends/family were telling me I'd gone too far with my weight loss (although I'd only *just* slipped into the very top level of "healthily overweight" by the BMI charts), I still had very round, very swollen, very balloony legs and ankles.

I've had the issue checked by a doctor or two over the years, each of whom agrees that, given how active I am in my daily life:

1. No, really, lymphatic swelling has absolutely bugger-all to do with my weight. It's not actually my fault for being overweight, but they can't tell me what it *is* due to. Basically, it's just one of those things that just *is* - kinda like me having mutant thumbs or a jewish nose
2. If the oedema (that's the technical name for lymphatic swelling) didn't suddenly show up out of the blue, and it's not painful or stopping me doing anything practical that I want to do, then there's no real health reason to be concerned about it
3. If I *do* want to do something about it, I'm probably looking at long-term use of diuretics to reduce the fluid levels (yeah, no thanks, I like my electrolytes the way they are, thanks), and/or wearing fairly tight compression stockings to physically *squeeze* the fluid out of my legs (until I take them off, when it'll probably all flow back in again - and yeah, again, no thanks - taking care of what is effectively a cosmetic issue by wearing something really ugly and uncomfortable seems to defeat the purpose, if you know what I mean)

So I figured that if it's not affecting my life in any way other than keeping me from fitting into 95% of the allegedly-my-size boots on the planet, then I really don't want to start frakking around with my body's delicate biochemical balance or sentence myself to wearing compression stockings for the rest of my life. So the obvious answer is to just live with it, dress around it, and focus my time and energy on other FAR more important matters.

Which sounds all very smart and sensible and stuff, but despite the smartness and sense, somewhere underneath the surface, I've retained a definite sense of... shame... I guess you'd call it, about my legs.  Because they're not shaped like "normal" legs. Despite their strength. Despite the fact that they've been instrumental in getting me 88km into Trailwalker last time around. Despite the fact that they've carried me nearly 1,500km since I started  tracking my mileage back in August last year.  You'd think I'd be proud of them, regardless of their shape, right?

Yeah, not so much, I'm afraid. For the past decade or so, almost any time I've left the house, I've dressed in either long, loose trousers, or a long, ankle-length skirt.  Oh, I'll *very* occasionally wear leggings when I'm out running, or exercising at home. But otherwise? I hide them away to the greatest extent I can. Even when I was training for Trailwalker through the heat of summer last time around, I still wore long cargos to walk in, rather than shorts for most of it (I did *try* to wear shorts for part of it, but it was a HUGE deal psychologically for me when I did)

So anyway. I made a decision back last year that if/when I completed Trailwalker, I was going to buy myself a short skirt that showed off my (probably opaque-tights-covered, granted) legs. After all, legs that walked 100km, and that were instrumental in raising $2,500 for charity frakking deserved to be shown off, right?

That's an easy decision to make because, hey, it's off in the future, and I don't have to actually *do* anything about it right now.  And then earlier this month it occurred to me... one of my standard workwear combos recently has been a flattering, mid-thigh tunic worn over either jeans or dress pants.  And that I could just as easily do that over leggings or opaque tights as I could over pants. So I didn't actually *need* to buy myself anything new to "show my legs off".

Then, last week, I went shoe shopping - looking for some physio-recommended flats to wear to work, since wearing boots with heels  - even small ones - seemed to be aggravating a knee problem I can't afford to have this close to Trailwalker.  What I discovered  is that the new season's boots are now in... and that someone, somewhere must have heard my footwear-related prayers because they're FINALLY making boots that fit those of us with... wider calves and ankles.  And for the first time EVER in my life, I found a pair of leather, mid-calf boots that fitted over my ankle and lower calves. And there was MUCH celebration in the Starfire-verse, let me tell you.

So of course, I... errr... grabbed the aforementioned boots. And a couple of other pairs of comfy, flat ankle boots while I was at it. I've never had so much success with boot-shopping in my life, and I wasn't about to let any of them slip through my grasp. Which brings me through to yesterday. I wore the midcalf ones. And leggings. And a mid-thigh tunic. And I... shock... horrror... gasp... *showed off my legs*.

The results were AMAZING in the extent of their anticlimacticness. No-one said a word. It's possible that this is because it looked truly godawful and everyone was too polite to say anything. But it's also possible, and FAR more likely, that no-one actually noticed. After all, I'd worn that tunic before over black pants. It's possible it didn't actually look all that different over black leggings.  The key thing from my subconscious's point of view, however, is that no-one gasped, blanched or ran away in horror when the shape of my legs went on display. No-one gently took me aside and explained that, really, I didn't have the legs to be wearing such styles, and should really go back to wearing looser pants. No-one, in fact, appeared to be looking at my legs one way or the other.  Which is to be expected if you're thinking about such things rationally and logically.  Can you tell from this post I haven't been able to do that for a long time?

Anyway: I'm figuring on some kind of "aversion therapy" thing here, where I do the whole tunic-and-leggings thing on a regular basis over Winter... and hopefully at some point, I'll graduate to doing the same thing with opaque tights and above-the-knee skirts.

Who knows?  By the time summer rolls around, my subconscious may have even made it to the point I'm ready to let just a little skin show?

It's my weight-goal and I'll change it if I want to

So, what's it been now... three months? Slightly over.  Well, at least the posting gap's been slightly smaller this time round.

And things have indeed changed since December.  In several ways - the biggest of which (at least from a weightloss viewpoint)  is that on-again, off-again, on-again, off-again Trailwalker is now on again.

Which is great news when it comes to avoiding the predations of the Beast.  Not quite so good when it comes to the weightloss journey - hey, I defy anyone (well, any mere mortal, anyway) to eat cleanly and keep regular comfort food out of their diet when they're exhausting their meagre willpower stores on simply getting their butt out the door 5-6 days a week regardless of the weather, and keeping it out the door for 70-90km and 14-16 hours a week of nothing but walking.

At the same time, I don't want to backtrack and lose all the ground I've worked so damn hard to gain over the past 18 months or so. So what I'm doing instead is giving myself permission to just maintain where I am for now (and by maintain, I mean, allow my body do its usual 2kg-either-way-yo-yoing-in-less-than-48-hours thing).   I seem to be able to hold steady at somewhere between 76.5kg-78.5kg without putting too much thought and obsession and planning into it, so I've decided that, at least until Trailwalker's over, that's good enough for me.

This initially felt like I was giving up... at least until I realised I was looking at it through one-or-zero, black-or-white, binary-only coloured glasses.  If, on the other hand, I look at my weightloss journey as something I get to do in my own time, under my own rules - and furthermore, as something that is... really... simply the intro course for a way of eating and relating to food that's going to last me the rest of my life - then the decision to maintain is just me having the flexibility to acknowledge that right now, I have a goal that's more important to me than my original weightloss one was.

So, in practical terms, that means I'm still:

• Tracking my food more days than I'm not - as much to make sure I'm getting enough calories as it is to make sure I'm not blowing out on a regular basis.  But I'm also not beating myself up if I go a day or three without tracking, especially if that day happens to be one where a/ I'm doing 30km+ walks; and b/ I'm eating food that makes my body feel good and nourished and not-hungry, even if I'm also eating some crap
• Trying to drink lots of water and drink not-too-much of everything else (tea excepted - my tea addiction remains with me, unchangeable through thick and thin)
• Trying (with varying success) to get more fresh-fruit-and-veg - hell, even frozen/dried/canned/whatevered fruit-and-veg - into my diet. Some days I do pretty well, other days not so much.  This is an area I've really slacked off on over the past few weeks, and I suspect kicking myself up the butt and improving it would do wonders for my mood... and possibly my training too.
• Trying (again, with varying success) to eat semi-mindfully with a focus on how a given food will make me feel - not just as I eat it, but afterward. And, of course, with a focus on how it's going to fuel all those crazy-long walks that I'm doing.
• Weighing myself weekly - just to make sure I"m not kidding myself about being able to limit the effects of slacking off.

What I'm NOT, on the other hand, doing so much of right now is:

• Denying myself comfort/stress food as and when I want it:  I'm still limiting my portions - a couple of squares of dark chocolate at one go, not a bar; or a small serving of chips when I'm craving salty, fatty food - plus I'm still trying to eat it mindfully when I do eat it, but I'm making the choice to indulge my desire for comfort food far more often than I did before the Trailwalker thing was confirmed.  Partly that's all the extra stress that the organising side of Trailwalker is creating in my life. Partly it's the "but I deserve it, damnit!" voice that looks at the crazy distances I'm making myself walk and wants to reward myself. Partly it's knowing that when you're burning an extra 4,000-5,000 calories a week, you can afford to splurge a little more often.  The trick here will be remembering to pull myself back from the extra indulgences once Trailwalker's over
• Cooking dinners from scratch: (and by "from scratch" I mean "using ingredients that don't ALL come from a packet"). Cooking and I have had a... troubled relationship in the past. Sometimes we're grudging allies, but most of the time, we prefer to ignore each other.  So for me, deciding to cook and actually preparing food to be cooked takes a huge amount of willpower out of all proportion to the physical effort involved in the act of cooking. Always has. Right now, I don't have that willpower spare. So instead, I'm compromising and looking for semi-healthy convenience foods that can just either be microwaved or eaten cold. Or, not-irregularly, buying semi-healthy takeaways like sushi, salad wraps or Nando's, where I know the nutrition data. I know it's not perfect. But it's the best compromise I'm willing to make right now.
• Bringing my lunches into work from home: I did have this set up as a good routine habit for a while last year. And I intend to go back to it. But again, I'll do it *after* Trailwalker.

I think, to some extent, I'm using the same techniques that I kept hearing motivational expert after motivational expert, diet coach after diet coach, recommend back over the Christmas break to stop people losing track of their good habits and intentions completely over the Silly Season. I'm accepting that the period from now until Trailwalker *isn't* normal life for me; and trying to keep my weightloss goals on track as though it were - not having the flexibility to adapt to the reality of what life is now for me - would be getting into an all-or-nothing thought pattern that won't do anything good for my pysche or my weightloss.  Better to cut back on my goals, and put a finite timeframe on when I'll pick them back up again.

So. Here's how I see it working:

• Right up until Trailwalker (until Friday 8 April): I'm going to keep on keeping on as I have been above.  If I can tweak what I'm doing to feature more of the "good" stuff in the first list, that's great.  But the ultimate arbiter of whether what I'm doing is enough is a/ whether I have the energy to do all the training I need to do; and b/ whether I'm managing to keep my weight in that 76.5-78.5kg band
• Trailwalker weekend and the two days immediately following (9-12 April): I'm planning on, quite simply, eating whatever the hell my body wants while I'm on the 100km walk; and whatever the hell I feel like the two days afterwards while I'm resting and recovering and taking time off work. I'm going to trust my body to let me know what it feels like, and trust my mind to be present to whatever I'm eating so that I stop when I've had enough.
• The third day after (13 April):  this is my last day off work - I'm going to use it to check in, reset my goals and intentions around my weightloss journey, and then go do some healthy grocery shopping to make sure I have the foods in the fridge/pantry/etc that will support those goals and intentions.  I'll also look at what my next exercise goal is going to be once Trailwalker is over and done with - I have vague ideas about setting myself a half-marathon to run-walk, but we'll see what happens when I get there.

So yes. I'd love to be supergirl and keep up that wonderful rate of weightloss I had going late last year and into the Christmas break. But you do what you can do - and I think, at least for now, that intentionally maintaining is about the best I can hope for.