They say there are things that are good for the body and soul. Namely, exercise. What better way to both refresh your mind and tighten up those voluptuous curves that work so hard to fight you your entire life?…There has to be a better way. I can’t begin to tell you the number of times I just look down at that dreadful area right below my waist and shout, “Why won’t you just fit into these jeans like I want you to?!” And I know what every anti-media socialist says – “A woman’s body is meant to be pear-shaped and other such clichés about loving yourself.” Well that’s all fine and dandy except that my jeans aren’t pear-shaped. In fact, no jeans are. Furthermore, no article of clothing ever made is! And as long as they keep producing clothes that are designed to fit right on nothing short of a two-by-four, the fight will ensue. I will always want to be thinner, tighter, leaner, more muscular, and it will always want to be full of pizza and nachos and purportedly anything composed of carbohydrates. Ahhh, my mouth waters just thinking about them. The funny thing about carbs is that they are in everything, taste amazing, and are one of the worst things you can eat. That has to be nature laughing at us; it’s not even fair.

But as long as I continue this diet regimen of muffins, pasta, and chocolate, I’ve accepted that working out is sort of not an option for me at this point. I mean I can stop, but then again I can also watch my torso bust out of every article of clothing I own, and honestly, I don’t have the money to buy a new wardrobe, nor the emotional strength to accept a transition into plus-sized clothing. Dieting is so far out of the question that I shudder just thinking about it. That leaves me one option – exercise. Ughhh. But hey, if it means I can eat whatever I want (if only in my own mind) and keep this decently enough slim figure, then it’s what I have destined myself to endure.

My torture of choice: Pilates. And before any of you start hating, let me just say that Pilates is actually really difficult! I mean, it’s no cross-fit, but holding my entire body weight perfectly still in one position that looks like only a professional should attempt, is one fry shy of excruciating. And my utter lack of upper body strength paired with my inability to find a glimpse of grace or balance in this world certainly does not add benefits to the equation. I can barely stand on my own two feet, and you want me to do what!? And let me tell you, when you do Pilates, you know you’ve done Pilates. Every movement is a gentle reminder of how I hurt myself the day before, and how my body feels the need to hurt me back. I get to the point where I refuse to sit back down at work, only due to the dread of knowing that when I have to stand back up, every muscle in my thighs and butt are going to scream at me in bitter resentment. No thanks, I’ll stand for the remaining 3 hours of my shift! Nevertheless, it’s the only workout style I have found so far that lets you do most of the work while laying on the ground, an aspect that appeals to the side of me that strives to be horizontal as much as possible. Call me lazy.

And somehow this is supposed to be good for me. It’s supposed to release the tension from the chaotic riptide of events that I call work or the general stress of everyday life. So I grit my teeth, roll out my yoga mat, and commence 20-30 minutes of what feels like every muscle in my body attempting random combustion. Lord knows I need it after this week. Between balancing my checkbook, a daunting task that only reminds me how far in life I haven’t made it, and resisting every urge not to barge into my roommates bedroom and demand she rinse a dish or two every now and then, sometimes I feel like I could explode. Add to the fire, introducing my dad to the guy I like, which I’m assuming was just as traumatic for me as it was for Toulouse to meet this guy’s dog that very same day. Poor cat still won’t come all the way down the stairs without peeping his head around the corner first, and my arms still bear the battle scars from my feeble attempts at comforting him during the interaction. Apparently my holding him has yet to instill in him any kind of security that this beast of an animal wasn’t hell-bent on tearing him limb from limb. So what better way to conquer both the muffin top that is trying ever so diligently to become a permanent fixture on my less-than-perfect physique AND release some tension…working out. At least that’s what they tell me. I disagree.

Ok, let me explain. Yes, there is a translucent sliver of euphoria that embraces my mental state after realizing I conquered that nearly impossible workout almost without stopping (hey, I’m not perfect). Yes, I smile a little when I realize that today I looked that cellulite in the eye and made it clear today would not be his day to shine! But aside from an exaggerated pat on the back, I still find myself sitting right here, on my bed, laptop at my fingertips, and feeling more relaxed and renewed than I ever could after nearly killing myself in both pain and sweat. I write. And while it does nothing for my physical enhancement, it does everything for my mental betterment. It is in me, and it makes up every part of me; and when I write I pour out my true abstract essence into a physical (er, digital?) form. Writing makes me come alive. It makes everything come alive. It goes beyond seeing the world; it’s finding a most intricate way to reflect the world through eyes with which only the beholder can see – making something that you feel seem real to someone else who wouldn’t know otherwise.

But that’s just me. It’s funny how we all have that one thing, isn’t it? How amidst all the complete disorder we are forced to endure every day, we can find that one place to go, that one thing to do, that sets everything in order again. Life is a mess, but it’s also a hot mess, and it’s beauty lies in between all the jumbled up messes of disarray and disappointments. Find your beauty, find your therapy, so that you don’t wind up one day so caught up in the desert that you forgot to see the sun.

P.s. I’m definitely popping a bag of popcorn when this posts…carpe diem, right! 😉