Body Grace
Staff from First Unitarian Church of Portland were asked to write a weekly reflection during this time. Here’s one from me, published on May 24, 2021.
On May 3, 2021, actor and rapper, Will Smith, posted on his Instagram a picture of himself in little more than a pair of skimpy shorts with the caption, “I’m gonna be real wit yall — I’m in the worst shape of my life.” It’s clear by his follow-up posts that what he was hoping to say was, “I can do/be better.” But, at least in my circles, he actually helped to liberate a whole bunch of people from the shame we’ve been feeling about our own pandemic bodies. His post was widely celebrated and deeply appreciated by many, even if he was shamed by religious gym rats.
I, too, have gained a lot of weight in this pandemic year. I don’t need to tell you that — you see me every Sunday morning. Although, unlike other years when my weight has changed, you’ve been kind enough to not mention it — for which I am grateful. I guess it’s easier to make a sideways comment at coffee hour in Margaret Fuller Hall than it is to send an email. In any case, like I said, I’m grateful. Like many, my life has changed considerably. I am no longer walking to and from the office or all around Downtown to run errands. I think I took for granted what that was doing for my body, and I am daunted by the idea of needing to suddenly be more intentional about physical exercise, now nearly forty years old. So, for me and for many people like me, Will Smith’s post was a welcome oasis in the expanse of shame we’ve been wandering in.
But here’s the plot twist… Were I to see the body I have now on practically any other guy, I would think it was hot. It’s actually one of my favorite body types on men. It represents a magical balance of someone who is unafraid to live into the fullness of life without taking too seriously the unreasonable expectations of society about what we do with our own bodies. Again, hot.
When, looking through my self-critical lens, I see this body on me, I am tempted to feel like I have somehow failed — at what, I’m not sure. I find myself following thoughts of wondering silly things like what the choir members will say to me when they finally see me again. It’s silly because I am not fat. To call me fat would be disrespectful to beautiful people everywhere who are fat as a matter of identity. Fat is special. My body is not anything special. But when I look at myself through the same lens I look at everyone else, I realize I actually look damn good. One might even venture to say, sexy AF. It’s a different body than the one I had 10 or 20 years ago, and it’s very likely a different body than the one I will have in another 10 or 20 years. It’s a body that has been better to me than I have sometimes been to it, and I am grateful.
And, maybe this is what grace is… Maybe it is an ability to see beauty in a thing beyond my own mind’s chatter and clutter. Grace.
At the expense of being predictable, enjoy this diddy from Lizzo -https://youtu.be/tjILCNcHevY.
