Kate: Comfortably Numb

Carnie Wilson says she's trying to heal herself from the inside out.

That's the wisdom I gleaned while watching Tyra Banks this afternoon.

I don't normally stoop to this level - watching Tyra, I mean. Talk shows aren't my bag but I do think the former fashion model has done a lot to promote Hollywood's dire need to embrace real women. Remember when she wore that swimsuit on tv - the same one that the paps snapped her in while on the beach? The tabloids made a huge bru-ha-ha about Tyra's thighs and butt, and so she trooped out on the show in the same bathing suit and grabbed her "big fat ass" and essentially dared the world to insult her beauty.

Remember?




Stick with me folks, there's a point to all of this.

So anyway - Tyra. Carnie Wilson. Talk show. The two ladies are chatting about being healthy and the perils of celebrity, and Carnie says something about how she just needs to be happy being Carnie, not what other people want her to be.


And I was like, Hell yeah!!


We've all talked a little bit about it on this blog - some of us have a much higher potential for being skinny. I have slim to no shot of being skinny - I am built to be buxom or bombshell. I have have big breasts and curvy hips - there's no mistaking that I am a woman! I love wearing things that accentuate my assets and I love celebrating my feminine form. I am comfortable with who I am - but I've gotten to the point where perhaps I am a bit too comfortable.

I remember another time when I was curvy and yet there was less of me. Back in the day, I spent more time in my sneakers than I did on the couch. I ate more vegetables and fruit and less ice cream and cheese. I loved myself and treated my body like it was the only vessel through which I can enjoy life.

I don't really know what happened.

Somewhere between the comfort and the stress (I know, odd combination) I managed to let myself go. I forgot that nobody's going to take care of me but ME.

I was numbed by life.

The holiday weekend was rough. It was a nice break from the busy-ness of life, but it was full of late nights with limitless glasses of wine, indulgent dinners of lobster and drawn butter and brunches of croissant french toast, crepes and egg casserole. I tried to tow the line when I could, but most of the time I was more than happy to reach for another sip of sangria.

I can't beat myself up over my past mistakes, the only thing I can do is try to make wise choices next time - and heal myself from the inside out.

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