Straddling the proverbial hot wire fence

Posted by LeeAnn on March 8th, 2010 at 01:22pm

Ok, so that is a wooden fence. I’ve gotten a few slivers from them but nothing like the zing of a hotwire.  I remember as kids playing the game grab the fence and grab your friend so they get the zing.  And then I worked on large horse farms complete with hot wires and I found myself in a whole new relationship with hotwire.  Used properly hotwire can be a good reminder of a boundary ahead or a way to keep the boundaries honored. However, I seemed to have used the metaphorical hot wire in a less than conscious way.

I have struggled with weight issues most of my life.  It started at 13 when my mom decided I needed to go to diet doctors to get pills to get my “weight” under control.  God bless Twiggy, she was such a profound influence on the culture of women and she was used by the fashion industry to showcase clothes and women’s body as mere clothes hangers rather than the focus on appreciating a women’s body.

It was the Twiggy fashion movement that made me so unacceptable. Not only did I have budding curves, I was an athlete.  I had muscles.  And neither my arms nor calves wanted to squeeze into quasi-young boy clothes.  God bless Nike and the sanity they brought back to girl athletes.

Now in my 50’s, it’s time to give myself permission to be myself.

In talking with a new friend the other day, I had a light bulb moment.  She mentioned “she had failed at doing what others wanted her to do.”  Not only had I failed at what the Twiggy culture wanted me to look like, I had failed at what the All Knowing Insurance chart said my weight should be.

For years I have straddled the proverbial hotwire fence trying to be what the “so called experts”  (including allopathic doctors who in the 50’s and 60’s thought women going through menopause should be medicated with uppers and downers creating sanctioned addicts) said I was suppose to be.  From the fashion world, to the medical profession, to school sports (Title IX didn’t come to pass until 1972) I failed miserably to do and be what the culture said I should.  And in acquiescing to what other’s thought, I kept myself powerless and resisted the life that was calling me.

Well, I am tired of the zing and have decided to step into MY LIFE. Maybe it’s menopause but I could give a flying farknarkle what the culture, what religion, what anyone else thinks I should do or be or have.  I now give myself the gift of health and well being. I thank God that I am not one of the clothes hangers for the fashion industry.  And I thank God for Dove and their campaign on expanding our idea of beauty.

I am wondering what gift you are willing to give yourself this day, this year and this decade?

Drop me a note and share, would you?

The Divine Cowgirl

(Photo Credit: Misserion)

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