One’s body is much like, one’s car. The vehicle you have, is the vehicle you use to get from point A to point B. One relies heavily upon their car.
There are times however, when we don’t like our car. It’s the vehicle we have though. We aren’t able to readily and easily procure a new one - so we make due. Fortunately, when we aren't happy with our car, we can turn our back on it. Once it's done its job, we can, for the most part, forget about it until the next time we find ourselves walking in its direction. Our bodies, on the other hand, travel with us wherever we go.
From the moment we wake, till the moment we close our eyes, the presence of our body reminds us of our displeasure with it. And that makes for a very unhappy person. One can’t close the garage door on their body, and walk away. No - instead, every time they see their reflection in the mirror or look down, a pang of unhappiness fills their mind. Its hard to love something you don’t even like.
Its not easy obtaining the body one wants. Nor is it easy maintaining the body one wants. Especially when the foods, most promoted and made available, stand in contrast to what will produce a healthy body. Whether it be portion size, salt content, fat types or sugar levels; the foods one finds in restaurants and lining the shelves of most markets are not healthy.
Sure, healthy options are mingled sparingly within the quagmire of unhealthy options, but they're not easy to find. They're even more difficult to choose when one’s palette has been shaped from a high salt, sugar and fat diet. Generations and generations of molecular and cultural structuring have made eating our enemy, when it should be our friend.
It takes weeks, if not months of conditioning to reprogram the taste buds and mind to prefer healthier foods. Once the palette is reconditioned however, many of the body-deforming foods (previously chosen without a second thought), taste almost toxic. This is a good thing, or so I feel. Now when I drive by a Burger King I smell chemical smoke additives. And regular cooking oil not only makes me mildly ill, it smells bad. The list goes on and on - but the point is, like a dog that intuitively knows not to drink from a puddle of poison, my body now knows to a turn away from the foods that will harm me. At the very least, my body throws up caution flags with every bite.
My body isn’t the vehicle of my choice, not yet. Its not the bright orange, hand-me-down Volkswagen Rabbit I once drove either (Yes I drove one of these. I was dirt poor, and it was sitting abandoned in a field. Free for me to use. I felt blessed and grateful). My body has spanned numerous sizes over the last twenty or so years. I still catch myself poking at my fleshy protrusions while grumbling. Getting the car I ultimately want, takes a good deal of work. But it starts by loving and appreciating the vehicle I have. Its dependable; rarely does it fail me. Its not the best looking, but its also not the worst. Its not a Ferrari, but then I really don’t want a Ferrari. A sleek BMW works fine for me.
Sane
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