Whatever it is that animates us – and after millennia of religion, philosophy, and science, I have no desire to so much as take a swing at the how of human essence – the bit that allows us to extrovert that animation – that which is being animated – is, as many have so succinctly put it, a meat sack.
Each of us animates a really important meat sack, don’t get me wrong. Whether our meat sacks are coded as the gender we experience internally, whether we’re at liberty to clothe our meat sacks in ways that feel most authentic to us, whether the components of our meat sacks work as we expect– all of these can dramatically shape our experience of our lives.
And yet, meat sacks they are. We are.
And yet, many of us – I’d wager it is most of us in the States and other wealthier nations – expend an incredible amount of our life energy, our time, our thoughts, to disparaging our meat sacks.
Let me clarify before I continue: Today, I’m writing about the internal experience of our meat sacks. Today, I’m thinking about our personal relationships to the flesh that we see in the mirror, not the infuriating and dangerous social rankings of meat sacks on a baffling and utterly invented scale of sacred to profane.
Let me be as clear as possible on one point before I continue: ALL meat sacks are sacred.
For the people in the back: ALL, as in every single iteration of shape, size, color, functionality, and capability, is absolutely, positively, unquestionably valid, valuable, and full-on sacred.
And that includes, friend, every single thing you’ve ever criticized about your own meat sack.
Here’s a short list of mine over my lifetime: Too much meat generally, too much meat in some specific places, too little meat in some specific places, unshapely meat, discolored meat, lumpy meat, flabby meat, and meat with hair.
If the way I’m describing all of this strikes you as ludicrous, good. It is. The whole thing is completely ludicrous.
And dangerous. Loathing our bodies is psychologically indistinguishable from loathing ourselves. As in, the whole kit n’ caboodle of self.
As with all hard changes, the first step is deciding to stop. Not that our thoughts and behaviors obey our decisions unquestionably but drawing a line in the sand is a critical start to every boundary.
I invite you to say something to yourself that you might not yet be able to enact, that you might not yet be able to believe, but that could change your life as much as it has changed mine. I invite you to say to yourself, to write in your journal, to tell someone you trust deeply:
Judging our meat sacks doesn’t motivate us to be healthier; it doesn’t make us more appealing to the people we’re attracted to; it doesn’t unlock our bigger lives or badder selves. All it does – the single, solitary thing judging our meat sacks does – is infringe on our sense of wellbeing.
Drawing this line in the sand, stating your unwillingness to engage in your own unwellness in this way, is a big ole step toward having more time and energy to put toward the ways in which you uniquely make the world a better place.
‘Cause you do. And we need you. Badly.
I have done a metric ton of work in the three years since I drew this line in the sand for myself and it has been liberating and joyful and, friend, I love my body in ways I never thought possible. Turns out, this body of mine is so freaking adorable and capable – and did I mention adorable? I’ve shared a list of steps I took after making this declaration to myself in my weekly email to The Bigger Badder Crew. Send me a note and I’ll make sure you get a copy; sign up here to make sure you don’t miss future tips, actions and resources. If you’re ready for some one-on-one support in transforming meat sack loathing into world changing, I’m so ready to be your coach!