Know then that the body is merely a garment.
Go seek the wearer, not the cloak.
An entire galaxy of emotions exists
these two sizes:
XS and XL
I can't speak for men,
but most women I know
and whose size varies like the seasons
(blame the genes, age, love of food or Karma)
from ecstatic to depressed
on the scale
of XS and XL.
The fact that most clothing companies
have adapted their sizes
and made them more generous
to match the
post WW II
does not concern me.
I have to work hard
on this scale:
once in a blue moon S,
but mostly M.
L is always lurking around,
only a few biryanis away.
Been there: post pregnancy
when the elasticated maternity wear fooled me
for a year after
I had delivered
I was alright.
At five feet, one and a half inches
my frame can just about manage
to make my peace-seeking soul
with the garment
Reading Rumi is one thing,
remembering his wisdom
when weighing myself on the scales
is a whole new kettle of fish.
Sharing with you: An attempt to capture the emotional roller coaster ride of clothing sizes when you are a woman past forty and your thyroid decides to go slow on you (what can you say; thyroids are like that sometimes) and you can remember your first day in a new school in grade 4 when the class bully called you: moti (the fat one).
Image taken from fabafterfiftyXS: Ecstasy! JOY! Delirious joy! Overcome with so much happiness. Weak with emotion or because you are probably recovering from a terrible tummy bug or flu and haven't eaten a meal in ten days.
S: Still in seventh heaven. Elated. Excited. Feeling preen-worthy. The carb curfew after six in the evening seems to be working. The running and the yoga has been regular or maybe there has been no time to sit and relax.
M: Mostly happy and upbeat. Comfortable but lamenting the loss of S. A sneaky voice whispers, 'Be careful' when you go for that second helping while scoffing down another episode of 'Orange is the new Black'. The carb curfew that had been lifted is threatening to make a comeback and the rest of the family is not happy about it.
L: Lamentations. Grim and gloomy is the outlook. ALARM BELLS are ringing. Watching too much TV with too many snacks. Cancelling exercise classes. Skiving on the walks/runs. Or simply participating in a blogging challenge which forces you to sit put for longer than you've ever done.
XL: Time to seek marriage counselling, really. The poor man has no clue that the little label on the shirt you picked up in Topshop says 'XL'. He is confused.
'Is it that time of the month?' he asks. BIG MISTAKE. He'll be lucky if he lives to tell this tale.
It's almost the weekend, so let's cheer up :) If the above has depressed you and you are about to grab that muffin, I urge you to stay put and watch Michael McIntyre instead; at least for the first 4 minutes. But if you have time, go for the entire 10. You will feel fine afterwards. I promise you.