I am really, seriously uncomfortable with some of the “fitness” stuff going around Facebook–“exposed ribs!” “Legs don’t touch!”
I’m sad–no, I’m horrified. I really am. Being able to count someones bones is properly a sign of malnourishment. Legs that don’t touch is a sign of being underweight. People are describing someone who is gaunt, starved, and in a very frail and unhealthy state–and calling it fitness.
I know there’s a skinny culture; I know there’s eating disorders; I’ve seen the terrifying models that look like abuse victims. But I guess it’s just recently that I’ve been seeing this marketed to the Jane Doe girl as healthy.
The heck it is.
It makes me angry, because it’s bad enough when you have these twisted, unrealistic ideas of what a person is supposed to look like–but when you start marketing something that’s literally an unhealthy destruction of the body–well, I’m okay with saying that should be a crime. It’s public endangerment.
We make up all these rules about how large a soda can be sold and where you can smoke–impingement on freedom in the name of health. But it’s perfectly okay to market self-destruction in the name of health?
We’re not measuring health on how much physical labor someone can do in a day. We’re not measuring health by the functioning of their internal organs. We’re not measuring health on strength, on speed, on agility, on endurance, on an ability to rejuvenate. No, health is being measured in numbers and in appearance. And what is the yard stick by which healthy appearance is measured?
Cancer patients, war prisoners, and drug addicts, apparently.
So Guess What?
My New Year’s resolution is to Look UnHealthy.
I want my legs to touch. I don’t want you to be able to count my bones. I don’t want to fit in a size “hiccup”, and I don’t have a magic number for the scale.
If you want a magic word for healthy and beautiful, try this one on for size: VIVACIOUS.
It’s very attractive.
(But it won’t catch on, because counting ribs is marketable and being ALIVE is not.)