The Crazy place.

When I was in high school, my best friend and I became mildly obsessed with Cindy Crawford’s Shape Your Body video. The video was, to this day, probably one of the most difficult I have done. It nearly killed me just to do the thing all the way through. Plus, um… I was looking at a supermodel the entire time. A gorgeously perfectly perfect supermodel, who didn’t even break a sweat. Uplifting, is what it was. And it totally did not inspire any self-hatred in my overweight, scraggly-headed, stubby-legged self.

But the thing about the video is that it really paid off. If I could be disciplined enough to fight through the tears and frustration and do it for two weeks, my body shape literally started to change. The video got a bit easier. By a bit easier,  i mean a bit. Imagine trying to crack open a walnut with two fingers instead of one and you will imagine how much easier it got, even after two weeks.

But I clearly remember the best and most awesome part of the video. It’s the part where Seal’s “Crazy” starts playing. Holy crap, I just found it on YouTube.

Honestly. My goodness. When I watch this now, I wonder how I didn’t dislocate my pelvis trying to follow her form. Actually, I think I just dislocated my pelvis watching this.

The point!

The point is that, every time that song started, I thought, “OK. Now we jam.” Something about those lyrics, “we’re never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy” just made it work for me. I was fat. I was in high school. I was desperate. I was in terrible pain. Not emotional pain, physical pain inflicted on me by Cindy Crawford and her evil minion, Radu. And I WAS never gonna survive unless I got a little crazy. I was never gonna survive to see the end of the video.

But Seal always gave me that shove. Those lyrics spoke to me. I have always remembered that feeling – the crazy place. The place where I know I must, can, and will do whatever it takes to get out of whatever I am in. The place where I know anything is possible, if I will just get outside myself and get a little crazy.

I heard an acoustic version of Crazy on my drive home last night, and I realized I am there. I have been pulling out all the stops and really, really trying to get to a place where I can say that I have the life I want. I am taking risks and initiative at work and at play. I am fighting for my health and my sanity.

And, of course, I am still trying to get skinny. I know I will never look like Her Royal Cindyness, but, well… I am crazy enough to try to get close.


6 thoughts on “The Crazy place.

  1. Dude. I laughed and teared up at this post. Beautiful, simple, true writing. I’m seriously addicted to your blog. You’re quite an inspiration! I’m contemplating doing the blog thing too!

  2. At my house it was The Jane Fonda Workout. Amazing my mother allowed the VHS cassette in the house. Hanoi Jane was not a fave in our Conservative family.

  3. I think I’m crazy, I think you’re crazy, I think we’re crazy, Just like me….oops wrong version…..Very good writing skills, lady.
    Skinny is not looking good here in South Beach. Give me my BREAD! But as a youth, we had a record called Chicken Fat on 45. My brothers would call me Pat Fat the Big Fat Rat. So worrying about weight started before I ever saw a fashion mag!

    • PJ – my old elementary school friends and I were JUST reminiscing about Chicken Fat on facebook. We all hated it!

      My nickname was Fat, fat, the water rat. or Tubby, tubby, two by four, can’t fit through the bathroom door. OR… my own personal least favorite: WEEBLE.

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