We're taught from an early age that there is a very narrow range of acceptable body types, and girls much more-so than boys, and then on top of this we have a food industry scientifically creating products that it's impossible not to crave: They're inexpensive, and, ironically, also almost wholly without nutritional value (tell me you do not want a Tastycake Butterskotch Krimpet and large fries right now) . Next time you're in the supermarket compare the price, and the caloric content between a head of broccoli and a dozen donuts. High fat foods that would have kept Elisha Kent Kane hale and hardy through the winters in the frozen arctic where he and his sailors were burning four or five thousand calories a day are a slow poison in this day where we're often given the option of not having to walk up a single flight of stairs if we so choose.
As a result, America battles with weight, self image, and our very biology. Those of you who've known me for a long time know it's been a demon of my own my entire adult life.
I was happy to see when geeksdoitbetter posted in philadelphia that there was going to be a fleshmob of people celebrating the fact that they don't fit into that narrow band of How We're Told We Need to Look, running up the steps of the Art Museum Saturday at 2:00. Becca, Eileen and Jamieson were calling on people to be happy with the way they looked and join them in charging up the steps, Rocky style.
There was the most eclectic band I've ever witnessed, playing the Rocky theme, on banjoes and violins and drums ...
There was a human pyramid:
And there were lots of people providing support, which was so good to see:
The battle's always easier won if you're not the only one fighting it.
It was good to see people feeling good, and it reminded me that we all need to practice people acceptance. We are not just our physical selves, and in many ways, we're so very lucky, as a society right now, to have the Internet and to be able to build relationships based upon who we are and not just what we are. If I'd known y'all when I was growing up -- 7th grade wouldn't have been so miserable.