Like many people around the world, we’ve been watching lots and lots of Olympics coverage. While I admire each and every one of the athletes (and of course am rooting for Team U.S.A.), I’m personally most interested in gymnastics — probably because I took gymnastics and dance lessons growing up and happen to find it the most interesting of all the Olympic sports.
One thing I noticed was that while sitting here in front of the TV watching the coverage, I’ve been doing quickie ab workouts and lifting weights (both of which I’ve slacked off with since becoming pregnant with Maya — back in 2010. Oops).
A good friend of mine recently suggested I maybe take a break from reading my multiple fitness and health magazines. She worried that those images of models I’m bombarded with (that we’re all bombarded with) might not be helping my cause, and that all the articles on health, dieting, and fitness might only be feeding and fueling my disordered eating tendencies.
Although I understand her train of thought and of course appreciate her concern, fitness and food are my hobbies; I can’t imagine not reading them.
I’m smart enough to know that all images are Photoshopped today. (They call it Photochop for a reason). And I know that the study I read today about protecting yourself against, say, skin cancer, by eating X, will be rebutted next month in a different publication, and that suddenly Y will be the new power-food.
We get a lot of mixed messages through the media today. I’ve been moved by Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty, and annoyed that Anne Hathaway’s character in The Devil Wears Prada is chastised for being a size 6 (“Six is the new twelve!”).