too skinny

A friend told me I was too skinny yesterday.
Actually, she didn't say too skinny.  She said,
"You're looking very skinny right now."
Then she screws up her nose, jams hands on her hips and looks me up and down.
My first thought is ~ 'That's funny cuz I was fat 2 days ago...didn't you read my blog?' ~
"Really," I question "Well that changes for me everyday.  I have no idea what the truth is."
"Well, ya, you're tiny."
I try to explain to her that Andrew said the same thing to me a couple weeks ago.
I assured him too, I am not restricting, not starving.  In fact, I don't even exercise everyday.
And I can feel myself scrambling.
She is posed, chin in palm at the kitchen counter, eyes folded up at me in doubt.
Is it doubt, or do I just perceive it that way?  Maybe she doesn't even care.
Certainly, she doesn't care as much as I do.
I am unloading the dishwasher and grabbing at acceptable reasons to present her with.

Now that I am writing this, I see it more cleearly.
I don't need to justify my body size to anyone.
The truth is, I don't know from day to day what size I actually am.
This sounds ridiculous.  Had I not experienced it, I would not believe it.
Of course you know what size you are.  How could you not?
When I say size, I guess I am not talking about a number.
I have been a size 7 for a while.  I know that.  My brain knows that.
I also know that I can wear anything from a size 2 to a size 12.  So size is relative.
I am talking about my judgement of:  Am I skinny enough?
If I am.  Then I am afraid to eat because I have to keep it going. 
If I am not skinny enough, then I deserve punishment for my failure, and I don't get to eat. 
So whether I am skinny or not skinny, I do not get to eat.
Not eating results in binging and more failure.
This is why I don't get to decide anymore.
Because if I don't have to trust my judgements of skinniness,  I am allowed to value myself for other reasons.

waiting for the bus

Yesterday I rode the UTA bus with 8 teenage girls.
(One of whom was my daughter Sophie, she is only 10, but fancies herself to be 13)
We missed the first bus, even though I sent two of the most spastic sets o' legs to chase it down.
So we sat at the bus stop drinking hot chocolate.
I sat back like Yoda just grinning and loving them.
Most had never ridden the bus in their life.
We brought with us 4 fleece blankets made by the girls themselves.
Sophie insisted on carrying the child-sized table we had decorated.
There were two matching Modge Podged chairs to go with it.
All the weeks of my pushing paid off in one afternoon.
As a teacher, I often wonder, do they even care about what I am trying to teach them?
What am I doing?
But after yesterday, I know they got it.


quote from a patient inside an IV bag

The idea came from them.  After sitting twice a week after school, I found out they had soft spots for children.  I also learned they like making 3-D art as opposed to 2-D art.  They want something to put their hands on.  Ours is a community where the most imortant thing is to unwind and be with each other.  It is a sewing circle, an old-fashioned space where women shell peas, or darn socks.
They won't make art for their own expression.  I don't know why.  But they will make something for someone else. 

As we entered the hospital we were greeted by a Christmas tree.
First we meandered casually on the outside ring, but curiosity brought us closer.
We read the ornaments.  We read the description of how the tree came to be.
Every ornament was made from medical equipment used to treat two girls in the process of a bone marrow transplant.  More than 11,000 pieces were used.
The volunteer explained to us what such a transplant involves.
When a child is in this process, they cannot leave their room for weeks. 
They have no immune system.
They are completely wiped out. 
I watched the girls who had been impossible to reach in the beginning.
They were skeptical of me and of art.
I could see their minds and hearts stretching in amazement. 
I watched their worlds get a little bit bigger. 
I was proud of them.  It was their idea to come with me up to the hospital. 
It sounded too complicated for me.  I am so glad  I listened.

As we walked back to the school, they asked, how old do you have to be to volunteer at the hospital?
They overflowed with ideas for our next project.

On that day, I was not too small in any sense.
I am gaining in substance, in faith, in life.

 

Making a wish on our way out