Saturday, October 29, 2011
Letting the Underwear Show
It would be nice not to give a rip whether your underwear showed.
I know you will forgive me speaking metaphorically here.
I care too much.
You'd think after 41.4 years I would not care what is thought of me--if anything is thought of me at all--and you'd think I'd be able to accept who I am, warts and all, and just be. But I go through phases of being racked by anxiety that I am not all that--and that the world knows it--and that something must be done about it RIGHT NOW THIS MINUTE.
I am in one of those phases now.
It's a funny thing about training and working. It gives me such day to day purpose that I don't focus on my shortcomings. Without it, I lack focus--or more accurately--I am aware of my lack of focus and more annoyed and burdened by it. I can't seem to keep up, and this bothers me very much. Generally I am irritated by people who seem to have it all together, yet I feel I SHOULD be one of those people. This disconnect is yet another reason to be annoyed with myself.
There is laundry all over the dining room table, my kids are watching MonteCarlo (that very profound 2011 movie with Selena Gomez) for like the tenth time even though it's really not age appropriate for Lara, I haven't made dinner, the dogs didn't get a good walk today, the grocery shopping wasn't done, and here I am. What DID I achieve? I don't even know! Nothing? Drinking coffee while watching soccer? Swimming a few thousand yards while the kids messed around in free swim? Answering email? Checking FB? Worse, I haven't worn make-up in like a month, my eyebrows are growing together, I have a zit on my cheek and I am finding more gray hairs every single day.
Each day I go to bed with new resolve. TOMORROW I will pull it all together. I have got my lists, I've made a schedule, I'm fired up and ready to go.
And by 9 am I have already fucked it all up--having spent too long on email and coffee before the day has even begun.
But when it comes to training and working... now THAT I can do. I rarely miss a workout. Actually, I'll be frank. I never miss a workout. And I love spending time constructing my athlete schedules and emailing with them about workouts And that gives me esteem. Hey! I have fourteen loads of laundry to do, and my dogs are farting up a storm because they ate the strewn remnants of Goldfish crackers and yogurt off the table, and my kids are somewhere in the neighborhood rip-sticking but I'll be damned if I know where, I'm so hairy you'd need a lawn mower to clean up my eyebrows, my legs (etc), my hair hasn't been cut for nine months, and the downstairs toilet is caked in dry piss, and I totally spaced and failed to take Jordan to her orthodontist appointment, but
HEY ! I got that 3000 yards in and I responded to all of my clients today! Yes, I did!
And I have to say this:
I think I wouldn't dislike myself so much for my inability to keep it all together (aside from my work and my working out) if everyone didn't present such a fucking cheery picture on FaceBook.
REALLY! I only need five minutes on FB to feel like crap. I look at happy, productive families, joyous and life affirming updates, witty snippets of smooth as silk lives, and people who are neat, trimmed, youthful...
And the worst thing is that I am guilty of presenting the same thing!
Which pictures are the cutest of my kids? Which are the funniest? How can I present the very most funny, smart, good-looking image of ME and my progeny possible so that everyone is jealous and wants to be ME!
Oh dear God I feel sick even thinking about it.
What would happen if I posted pictures like this:
Hey look! It's my kid! He's stolen my iphone and is taking pictures of himself as I drag him in the car on who knows what errand!
Hey look everyone! It's my really really messy desk! I am totally disorganized! Aren't you jealous?
as opposed to something like this, which I'm fairly certain I did post to FB:
I'm not sure why I try to make everything look cheery, except that to NOT make things look cheery means I am less cheery than you, and hence I am less realized and well off and successful etc and so on. I'd hate for you to think that--that I am not as cheery and successful as you. And you'd hate me to think that of you too, I bet.
But constantly viewing people's perfected versions of their lives really does a number on me. I know the plastic lives presented are not REAL, but they seem real--just like the life I present to you on FB does. You know?
How does this ALL RELATE TO UNDERWEAR.
I think I may have lost the thread. Maybe you can tell me. Maybe post it on Face Book.