Happy Sunday, folks! I’ve missed the last couple of these due to being overwhelmed with school, but I’m here now. This week I read about the good, the bad, and the ugly of cross fit, two very different love letters to bodies, and the link between thinness and the illusion of control.
First up is this article on Crossfit. I know a few Crossfitters and don’t wish to yuck their yum, rather to share an article that points out that good are boxes are not the norm in CF and a bad trainer at a bad box can do a heck of a lot of damage:
There are hundreds of very good CrossFit affiliates across the country and around the world, staffed by very good coaches with more-than-adequate experience and excellent judgement about all matters regarding exercise and training, which to use, and who to use it with. I know many of these people, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that they know what they’re doing.
The Ugly is that there are many thousands of CrossFit affiliates around the world and hundreds of new “coaches” each weekend. Think about this very carefully.
Next up is this beautiful and challenging and excruciating “Litany for My Mother’s Body“:
My mother’s body horrified her mother. From the time my mother was two, her mother, who only fed her body cigarettes and coffee, tried to do something about my mother’s body. She put her on diets that lasted her childhood, my mother who stood in the night eating whipped cream from the can, the refrigerator open in the kitchen, the cold air blasting her face as she squirted the cream until her mouth overflowed, cream that padded her hips and filled her cheeks and blew up her breasts. Boobs Balogh, they called her. She swallowed diet pills her mother fed her. She ate nothing for her mother. She pushed on the lever and the whipped cream foamed into her mouth, filling her, filling her with nothing, most of it air.
This is an older article but one I loved just as much this time as when I first read it. It’s a love letter to bodies from a massage therapist.
Adults sag. It doesn’t matter how fit they are. Every decade, an adult sags a little more. All of the tissue hangs a little looser. They wrinkle, too. I don’t know who put about the rumor that just old people wrinkle. You start wrinkling when you start sagging, as soon as you’re all grown up, and the process goes its merry way as long as you live. Which is hopefully a long, long time, right?
And finally this piece from the wonderful Geneen Roth on Thinness and the Illusion of Control:
But as you probably have already guessed (or experienced firsthand), when you are as thin as you can ever imagine, the people who didn’t love you before will still not love you, and the people who did love you before will love you still. People will come, go, leave, and die, no matter how much you weigh.
Let’s be kind to ourselves and each other this week.