I’m praying for a phoenix from the ashes.

I’ve been ripping my place up, pulling out anything and everything and determining if it’s got to go. The result, total devastation, like a hurricane without the rain.

My hope, when all is said and done, mostly done, is more space and a sense of order from chaos. My fear, M. shows up on Saturday, sees holy hell, correctly deduces I’m a mental case and runs for the hills. The truth will likely lie somewhere in the middle, I clean up some of it, and he helps with some of it (and I graciously accept his help, despite decades of Pat’s imprinting for independence). Then, after some sweat and hard work, we morph into a fresh start. (Hey, I’m still optimistic despite my desire to blow torch the place and really start fresh.)

Meanwhile, I’ve wasted (or spent) the morning surfing a bit on the WWW. I found Big Fat Blog, which is an interesting read on body acceptance. There are some interesting thoughts, although I can’t say I completely agree. I, myself, was happy that at my last physical I was down in weight and am ambivalent about losing the 10 or so pounds I could stand to drop to meet the doctor’s charts. I feel fine and all.

The interesting thing for me is that as a chubby kid (or at least bigger than my twig-like siblings), I was always pretty self-conscience about my size. And, as a kid, I could never, ever, ever, in a fucking million years, do most of the Presidential Fitness bullshit challenges. I still remember the sheer humiliation of dropping like a wet rock from the monkey bars instead of elegantly curling my bulk up to the bar.

But, when I was in college and was on my own, I became more comfortable with my body and how I individually felt. The result was I lost weight without doing anything, just being. And, now at 4o, I think I’m healthier relatively than I was as a kid. (Although, some of the kid pictures I’ve seen of myself look more like I was overall large, not so much fat, regardless of the chubbiness I was constantly reminded about by kids and my family.) I’m not sure if a “body acceptance” movement would have been positive for me, or just provided me an excuse for personal complacency. (I’m talking only for myself in regard to complacency, not folks with their own rows to hoe.)

Anyway, it’s something to think about. And, if you are reading this post, and you are a 42 year-old man with a phenomenal ass and the ability to benchpress 190, YOU DO NOT NEED LIPOSUCTION. But, by all means, you should get your eyes rounded.:wink: