Bells; Southern and Taco

Two quick things:

I went to Kentucky with my friend Mike last week. He is moving there and it might be correlated to this but I have been eating like a mad woman. I am back up to 240 pounds. I feel my body trying to figure out where to pile up some of this extra poundage. It seems it is deciding to put a layer of fat onto my neck. I can feel extra fat on my neck; specifically on the front where if I had an Adam's Apple it would be. I feel so huge.

The trip to Louisville, KY, with Mike was interesting. He was looking at apartments, and most of the building manager's were women.

A born and raised yankee, I have never had much respect for Southern women. My stereotype of them is that they are manipulative and treacherous. They are thin but they do it just out of insecurity. They are weak. They are tragic. Sorry, South. But that how I've seen you.

As we interacted with these women, two things jumped out at me. Our first building manager was a young black girl, around 20 something. She was very cute, thin, she had the fake Loius Vuitton purse that is so common for girls in Chicago to carry, too.

What struck me about her was her accent. She talked in a cute, Southern drawl. Hey, ya'll, where ya'll movin' from? Wayell, I think ya'll will like it down here. Yes, that's right. Ya'll can choose the first or the second floor plan.

I. Have. Never. Heard. A. Black. Person. Talk. Like. That. My experience has only had two accents: Northern White, like the Newscasters speak, and Inner City Black. I've never heard a black person speak with a southern drawl.

It occured to me that speech is random, and different regions put different values on different accents. It seemed to me that down here in the south, speaking with a southern accent was Proper Speech. In the rest of the country, not so much, but there, it was business appropriate.

The next place we went to, there was another girl in her twenties showing Mike apartments. She was about a size 4; maybe a size 6, but I'd place her in a size 4. She was dishwater blond, wearing black dress pants, a pale blue shirt, a matching pale blue cardigan, and black beaded necklace and bracelet. What struck me most was here shoes - she looked all professional, and then had on these black, strappy heels. They couldn't be comfortable to be showing apartments in all day long. But they looked sexy. That was for sure - they added a bit of sass to an overall conservative outfit.

Between the cute black girl, who was also about a size 4 or 6, and this girl, I suddenly had a new respect for Southern women. It occured to me that for them, staying fit and in shape is part of being a woman in their culture. Being sexy was expected of a woman, it was part of the deal. In my culture - I'm not saying the North in general, I'm saying in the upbringing that I had - only trampy girls were thin and attractive and wore strappy heels to work. Only girls that were "asking for it" wore such things to work. Only slutty girls made men feel the discomfort that comes from seeing a beautiful woman. And a beautiful woman causes discomfort, not joy. A beautiful woman causes competition. A beautiful woman causes pain.

But not in the South. I could feel an edge to both of these women who had helped us, a deep and sincere kindness in each of their hearts. But also, a distance, an arms distance between us. Not that I'm expecting building managers to be hugging us and inviting us out for the evening. It was just something I sensed, a sort of strength of self-protection. I found it interesting. I thought, hm. Maybe I need to live in The South for a while so I can learn this skill of staying thin. For it was definitely in the air, it seemed to me. The expectation of a woman to stay thin and beautiful floated all around us. Not like up north here, where once you get married you can let yourself go. It was an interesting experience.

Then, I have been letting myself to continue eating what I want. I am simply not able to eat the same things. I bought two desserts for Easter - a fresh fruit tart, and a flourless chocolate cake. Interesting to note: I tried eating the tart, which had a pastry base and a custard filling, topped with fresh fruits. Had one bite, and knew I'd end up wheezing and allergic from the custard. Ate the flourless chocolate cake with fresh cut up strawberries. No reaction at all. Later in the day, we ordered a pizza. No more thick, bready crusts for me. Where I used to be all about Pizza Hut's pan pizza, we ordered their thin crust. It was really good. As we ate it, and I couldn't even eat more than two peices, it occured to me that I might be ready for this raw food life and making pizzas from all natural ingredients. It was a good feeling. It's taken me a long time to run through all my eating, but I think I might be there. Now I just have to figure out how to bring this in as wellness captain. It can be done. Now let's get out there and do it?