I could tell you how much I weigh, but as this is a semi-anonymous medium such a confession loses some of its liberatory prowess. I can tell you that the weight listed on my driver’s license was not accurate when I was sixteen, and it is even less accurate now. I see the knowing looks from the ladies at the BMV when they ask if everything is accurate. Yep. Absolutely.

I like to think that I am comfortable in my body, but to say that with out doubt would not be completely truthful. I don’t “diet” in the Weight Watchers sense of the word. I avoid fast food and try to eat as many whole grains, fruits, and vegetables as possible. When I exercise it is in the form of errands or Yoga. At the same time, I always see my body as a before picture, something separate from the “true” me I am meant to be. My body is temporary. I feel about my body in the same ways that Le’a Kent describes the abject fat body: “something encasing a person, something from which a person must escape, something that a person must cast off” (134). There are always skinny jeans in my closet. And by that I do not mean trendy skin-tight jeans, I mean jeans that no longer fit me but reside in my closet as motivation.

My current dieting state-of-mind is fairly new one, and one that I am not completely sure has taken hold. As recent as a few years ago, when I reached a certain milestone birthday, I was determined to loose weight among other things. Sallie Tisdale describes fat as symbol of the soul: “the cluttered, neurotic, immature soul” (20). For this birthday, I wanted to put myself in order. Prepare for the future. Part of this included “getting in shape,” which really meant loosing weight. But, as usual losing weight falls to the weigh side when life becomes more enticing than dieting. I would rather enjoy a glass (or bottle) of wine with my boyfriend than drink water. I would rather not obsess over a piece of cheesecake. It’s good. The urge to lose weight has always come and gone though. Who is to say that my next milestone birthday will not inspire the same attempts at self-reorganization.

I would like to think that this class will have a effect on my future, it certainly inspires me to think about myself, my body, and my situations in a different light. Tisdale’s article validated the excuses I have given for not dieting in the past. She says, “what I liked about myself seemed to shrivel and disappear when I dieted” (29). She likes her womanly curves, her sensual and disorderly existence. She likes moving freely within her body. To me, this seems like a better way to prepare for the future, getting comfortable with yourself–your body.

Initially, I had no design behind not revealing my weight. I realize however, that I have not revealed my weight to you, nor anything that could indefinitely qualify me as fat or skinny. My only revelation is my endless fussing over my body. In the spirit of S. Bear Bergman, I wonder, do you have a mental picture of me?