sometimes less is more

in case you had any doubts, there’s nothing neat or contained about me. you need but look at my hair to concede the truth of that statement.
my curls sproing off in different directions like the coils of a mattress in a rent-by-the-hour cheap motel. i boing when i walk, everything bouncing exuberantly, often in direct contrast to what i might be feeling.

you might describe my style as funky, eclectic, even eccentric sometimes, but i doubt you’d ever call it classic. no crisply starched shirts and pencil skirts for me.

like my life, sometimes i can be messy. clothes pile up in heaps for days before i’m compelled to restore order. 3 months later i’ll suddenly wonder why there’s a spool of thread in the middle of the kitchen table. i’ve spent large parts of my life coloring outside the lines.

sometimes though, i  wish i was a waif with one of those compact bodies, the kind you can carelessly toss into a pair of jeans and a tshirt, or silicon-slip into a little sheath dress and heels, the epitome of classic perfection. you know, pert sized 34b breasts, just enough for a womanly curve, not enough to necessitate double bra-ing before you head to the gym at certain times of the month or like these mounds of mine which strain against and constantly threaten to spill from their constraints like a janet jackson wardrobe malfunction. sometimes i want a derriere that sounds exactly like the word, muscular, yet curvy and pertly french, not this minor mountain that rises behind me and proclaims to the world that  i am, yes indeed, one of the progeny of saartjie baartman. i want calves and thighs and waist all proportionate and contained. not these rambunctious humps and curves and clumps that boisterously clamor off in different directions, dead set on their own agendas.

sometimes, just sometimes i’d like to be the mistress of my own domain, this sassy, cantankerous, disobedient, wild willed sheath of flesh which in this life
i supposedly command.

i guess the spongy mass between my ears is what i can best command, but it’s difficult sometimes to not be various shades of envy-green. damn, look at holly hunter who at 51 has the body of a teenager. pert. compact. even cute. but then i have to remind myself; life or at least, what we look like, is the result of  a lotto in which we involuntarily participate and the landscape of our bodies was sculpted by a distant sculptor to whom there’s no recourse. bottom-line (pun intended), i guess it’s not what we’re given. it’s what we make of it.

and make no mistake, i’m grateful for what i’ve got. sometimes, though, i wish i’d been given just a little bit less!

p.s. the crude little animation was something i came up with for my first website around 1995 or so


back on track – uhm, sort of…

last year my non new year’s resolution was to, possibly maybe, IF i felt like it,  start training and then run a 10k before year’s end. i, who have always abhorred running, i who was left panting and breathless after climbing the mere 5 flights of stairs up from the lunch-room at work, wanted to start running!

amazingly, i did it! it took me at least 6 months of training, but i eventually ran two 10k races; the spar ladies race and the soweto 10k the 2nd of november. however, less than a week after the latter, my long-time BF and i broke up and he moved out. you think i would have gone and tried  running off the blues, but instead, i stayed put and wallowed! no gym, no track, nothing. the fact that i lost my appetite and a good few kilos i’d been trying forever to shed, didn’t help to motivate me either.
3 awful months and some not very successful attempts at on-line dating later (maybe more about that some other time), the BF  and i realized that we were total failures at remaining exes. we decided we were very happy to become quitters at quitting each other.
in our time apart, he’d bought himself a mountain bike and and joined a cycling club, so once we re-united, we started doing some spinning classes at the gym. i though, have the kind of body-type which requires but one spinning class before my thighs start bulking up and i look capable of kick-starting a boeing,  and my butt, already obviously of saartjie baartman lineage, gets even bigger. tighter, more muscular and hoiked further up my back, but yes, bigger. so it looks like it might be a better idea to start running again.
i’ve done a few road/park runs over the past few weeks. half hour each, distance unknown, and i find it hard to believe that i’ve actually been quite excited by these runs. the BF rides his bike while i slog up and down hills in the park with the dogs roaming around and occasionally attempting to trip me up. everything still hurts, especially seeing that i’ve suffered some major back spasms this past month, but i think i’ll keep at it. yesterday i went back to the track for the first time since last october and ran 5k’s in just under 35 minutes. track running, though,  seems to require more tenacity and determination. maybe it has something to do with the fact that you keep running the same endless mobius strip loop and it feels like you could step off at any moment, whereas with road running you have a distinct start and finish point and if you don’t keep going, you don’t get home.
i thought i’d hung my running shoes up for good once i’d achieved my goal, but it seems i’d merely kicked them under the bed. i’ve blown off the dust bunnies and replaced them with good ole trail dirt!
ok, so maybe once a runner, always a runner? any other runners out there? what do you think?