Kim’s Story: Hairy toes and body scanning
On Friday 11th May it’s #nationaleatwhatyouwantday, so we thought we’d take a little look at body image with our super-star Club Soda member Kim. Here’s her story.
So f*ck you body-scanning. I’m always looking for new things to entertain or zen the sober me. I heard about body-scanning and thought I would give it a bash. You basically lie there and concentrate on your body, working your way down (I think) to relax and zen and stuff. My scanner, however, is kaput. It didn’t scan my insides and make me relax, it scanned my outsides. Here’s what happened:
Head – when I was a wine-hog I dyed my hair dark, now I’m sober I’ve gone back to my blondeness. Only it takes cash to get highlights. So scanning my hair I remembered I really need my roots doing, that greyers are popping out all coarse and wiry and it looks like one of those dip dye jobbies that started too high up and was done by a really bad hairdresser, or child. This did not zen me.
Face – it was a lovely face once, but it seems to be slipping down my head a bit and crinkling up along the way. And my eyes aren’t cars so why do they need hoods? And why does a girl need a moustache? A moustache I remove with a nasal hair trimmer at least once a week. This did not zen me.
Neck – I can remember years ago watching Ali McBeal and some chick had loose skin around her neck and some dude loved it and called it her waddle and used to get all pervy about it. I thought this was odd, strange and too many levels of wrongness. I now have a waddle. Guys – I have a waddle! I don’t want to attract pervy waddlers. Total un-zen.
Arms – they have failed me. They are wrinkly and flappy at the top. If I jumped off my balcony I would be able to glide to Soho with them. It looks like I’m wearing a bat-wing top without the top. I ordered a swimming suit today with sleeves. I kid you not. No zen at arm level.
My breasticles – oh joy, now these are fine. They pass the toothbrush test. This is the same as the pencil test where you stick a pencil under your breasticles and if it falls down you are fine. Except I performed this exercise in the bathroom where there were no pencils. So I used my godson’s toothbrush. I’ve been informed it probably dropped as it’s heavier than a pencil. I am not going with this. My breasticles are fine. Zen.
Stomach – it’s got two tyres. In the bottom tyre a rogue hair grows out of it. I don’t know why this is or what the point of this hair is. I have to wear high waisted jeans to shove my tires into so I don’t get a muffin top over-spill. This consequently gives me a camel hoof in jeans. No zen here.
Camel hoof/lady garden – this looks like some mad crazy doodle where someone has gone mad scribbling. Or like a forest – a big rainforest. I don’t know how to tame it. I used my flatmates beard-trimmer last time. This resulted in a cyst. This resulted in me asking the chat group for help. Then showing it to my best friend, daughter, and god-daughter. Then a trip to the doctors. A month of not being able to sit down properly and half of the West End seeing my vajoojoo and laughing at it. Or cringing and saying “Ouch”. Or in my Doctor’s case saying “oh Kim its’ nothing..it will go away”. Nothing? It was the size of Mount Etna. Down there, can you imagine that? Mega zen fail.
Thighs – they have a gap and pass with flying colours. I don’t care if they are a bit flappy, they look great in jeans. Zen!
Knee down – disaster zone – they stay the same size. I have something called cankles. This is when your ankles are the same width as your calves. My mate once bought me a choker necklace for an ankle bracelet. It fitted. The dude who massaged me in Porto told me I had bad circulation because they were swollen. I explained through gritted teeth they are sodding cankles. I tried to cure them once. I was told to wrap them in seaweed and they would shrink. I didn’t have seaweed so I put cabbage around them secured in clingfilm and went to bed. I woke up next day and they looked small, hoorah. I jumped out of bed and fell to the floor. My cankles hadn’t shrunk. My feet had swelled up from the too tight clingfilm and gone dead. You can’t cure cankles. Zen fail.
Toes – okay – I have started growing hairs on my big toes. Really… why? Why would nature put hairs on my toes? I am 50 and having to make the decision of whether to shave or pluck them. 50-year-olds should be thinking about handbags or afternoon tea, not toe hairs surely? Unzenned.
So f*ck body-scanning, I’m not doing it again until my scanner is fixed and can do the insides… because I know what it would find inside. A big healthy floppy liver (guys we want floppy livers apparently not firm ones). It would find a very happy heart that is bursting with joy at being sober and at the fab life sobriety has brought me. This heart would also be packed full of love for you wonderful people. Inside my scanner would find pride and self-worth having a party. It would find acceptance, faith, and peace floating around. It would find energy and excitement dancing together.
A few years ago I would have had a dramatic meltdown about this aging hairy wrinkly process thing.
Because the outside was all that mattered to me. But when you have so much going for you on the inside, well aging, as annoying as it is, is not drama worth. And if I was drinking the outside would be in far worse shape than it is right now. So if you aren’t losing weight when you hoped you would, if your body isn’t looking like the sober legend you think it should – please don’t worry. There is a heap of changes going on in your insides – changes that won’t age or desert you. Changes that will last for as long as you don’t pick up that drink. They are the most beautiful changes you can offer your body. Cherish and appreciate them.
Much love, off to pluck and strim.