My Whiskers Are Too Long

by cari

Leave it to MexiKen to put this into perspective for me. This past weekend was weird for me. It happens from time-to-time, despite my very strongest and bravest “self-talk” to the contrary. I begin to wrestle with MY SIZE. In my defense, I’ve only been *small* for about 3 of my 44 years, so it’s possible to venture back to familiar (comfortable?) territory sometimes. I’m not really sure what caused it this time, other than pure exhaustion and overwhelm, but I found myself wandering around the house in a funk – even after spending some quality time with Enrique. Usually, physical activity clears my mind and sets me on a good footing, but on this particular day (might have been the rain or the wind), I just couldn’t shake it, and I curled up in a ball on the couch with the supreme goal of catching up on all of my DVR’d Ally McBeal episodes.

Of course, because I am still learning how to relax without guilt, this time on the couch was fitful, and not at all stress-free. Perhaps it is because the “time off” wasn’t PLANNED, but was, instead, FORCED. As in, “my brain couldn’t formulate a single original thought” so I had to collapse in a heap. This happens sometimes (darnit), but fortunately, far less than it did in my “Before” life. In those days, EVERY weekend was spent in a blob on the sofa. So, I need to recognize progress when I see it 

Anyway, as I wandered up and down the hall, tickling the laundry and doing as little as possible, I found myself reaching back to familiar (comfortable?) thoughts of, “Look at yourself; you are a fat, lazy blob.”Hmmm…*that’s* productive. The difference was, I KNEW it wasn’t true. I am not FAT OR LAZY. But, the recording played on…over and over….

Here’s how it sounded:

Sick Self: You’re fat and your butt sags.
Healthy Self: That’s ridiculous. You are not fat. You have shrinkles not fat. Deal with it.
SS: Yeah, but they LOOK like fat.
HS: Shrinkles are the polar-opposite of fat. They are the ABSENCE of fat. That is why they exist.
SS: Think what you want, but your body does NOT look like other people your size, so you must be fat.
HS: Wrong. Unlike cellulite, by definition, shrinkles happen because you have LOOSE SKIN WITH NO FAT TO FLUFF IT UP.
SS: Still. People who wear your size are smaller than you.
HS: What? That doesn’t even make sense. How can I be bigger than my size? I have a closet FULL of size SMALL clothing.
SS: Ha. Those run big. C’mon. You *know* you are not a size small. You are 5’8″ tall. By definition, that makes you AT LEAST a Large.
HS: Whose rule is THAT? I have clothes from lots of different stores — not just one. I even have an X-Small top that I wear. Thee things are NOT TIGHT on me. i am not fat.
SS: I dunno, You *used* to be a size 2-4…Now you’re a 6-8. You know what that means: You’re tottering on a size Medium (at least.)
HS: Who cares what the number or letter on the clothing says? I look and feel great.
SS: Yup. That’s why you’re wandering around the house feeling *fat*..but, if you’re fine with the shrinkles, dangly skin and lying clothes, then I am, too…

See what I mean? Destructive and unfounded.

Eventually, I thought I was going explode, and decided to bring my self-conversation to MexiKen.

“Honey, I know you’re going to think this sounds crazy, but I just need to bounce this off you. I KNOW that I am not fat — that’s silly — but I just keep telling myself I am. I don’t know why, but I can’t wrap my head around my size. Like…how *big* am I? I’m little, right…?”

You should have seen the confounded look on his face. I could see the thoughts frantically ping-ponging around in his brain. I know he was thinking, “Why is she saying that? She’s not fat..nuts, maybe, but fat? What does she want me to say here?”

He opted for the third sentiment: “I think you’re nuts. Don’t you know your own size?”

Okay, that wasn’t exactly what I needed to hear. Let me approach this differently.

“Babe, you know how you are constantly running into doorjambs and furniture because you always miscalculate your size? You know how you always think your shoulders are not as broad as they are and how you always marvel at your actual size, because you don’t think you’re as big as you are?”

He thought on that for a minute. At 6’2″, he is a big boy, and his shoulders are super-broad (one of the many things I love about him…*swoon*).

Without missing a beat, he laughed and said, “Oh. That’s because my whiskers are too short.”

I knew what he meant. Cats know their size by the length of their whiskers. This is what tells them if they can safely clear a passage. If their whiskers touch, it’s gonna be a tight squeeze. Here’s an interesting little thing I found on the subject:

Cats use their whiskers for a wide variety of reasons. They provide some of the most important feedback for cats to gather data about their environment. They also use them to communicate their emotions. As an essential addition to their “navigational” equipment, it is crucial to never trim them or cut them off. Without their whiskers cat become confused and often lost. Similar to radar, Cats use whiskers to “feel” their boundaries and to gauge distances to ascertain the size and shape of objects, and to discover if their bodies will fit into tight spaces. Whiskers help guide them in the dark to avoid running into objects.

Source

I got the message loud and clear. My whiskers are too LONG. Despite my ability to clear seemingly tiny openings, I STILL view myself as the fat girl who can’t fit in an arm chair, a small car, or airline seat.

Apparently, my whiskers think I weigh 316 pounds. Or…do they?

I think it’s time to trust the facts. I am walking around in a very comfortable and healthy body. Granted, there is ample room for improved fitness and tone, and those are goals — attainable, achievable, reasonable goals. They are NOT an indictment or testament of FAILURE.

Thank God for my beloved MexiKen. His logic is undeniably simple: Trust your whiskers.

My cat does it all the time (and he’s a fatty!)