Day 80

Well today I have much to tell and much to say and none of it is about yoga. Actually, most of it isn't very "yogic" at all; but you know me: I tell it like it is. Before I proceed, I have to say that it is not my intention to make anyone feel bad, shitty or angry. This is just my story and what I think: merely an opinion. Also, for the record, I think that it doesn't matter how good you look, if you're an asshole, you're an asshole and you have no place in my life. What matters the most is the essence of the person, not it's "packaging". There.
Now, let's get the yoga out of the way so we can move along, shall we? Today I ran around, like usual, and did CrossTrain and Hardcore at warp speed so we could slap on that sunscreen, slip into that bathing suit and head to the beach. There. Yoga done. Time for funsies.
All that stress, rushing around in my mind, checking off to do lists and whatnot immediately faded away as soon as we made it through those dunes and voilà! the ocean.
Oh man how I love the beach! I am such a beach bum it's redonkulous. I know tanning is not good for you and yada yada, but I just can't help it: if there's a ray of sun, Ale is underneath it like a lizard.
Anyway, we're at the beach, we grabbed a good spot where no kids were around -because even if we come with a kid, we don't want other people's kids around: I deal with mine and no more- and got all settled in. So I am lying back, enjoying the ocean waves, the good weather, the sea breeze... and then I forgot where I was and opened my eyes to people watch. Holy shitballs! If you think airports are good for people watching, you have clearly never been to a beach in Spain. Why, oh why do people wear the things -or don't wear, for that matter- they do to the beach? My eyes! I have images imprinted in my mind that will stay with me till the day I die and none of them are good! It should be illegal for people who can't -and shouldn't- wear bikinis to wear them. Specially of you are a yaya of 70 + years of age. But above all things, women who go topless without having the appropriate boobs to do so should be put in that paddy wagon and hauled off to jail. I mean, come on! if your boobs look like a pair of socks stuffed with marbles, by all means WEAR A TOP. If your boobs look like sandbags, WEAR A TOP. If you hit your boobs with your knees when you run, WEAR A TOP.
Let's go deeper into this matter: Americans all go "Ooooo. European beaches. Topless ladiessss. Ooooo". Hellz no. That only happens in the French Riviera. Just because I am a woman, that doesn't mean I can't accept when someone has a good rack; and the kind that makes men go "Ooooo" ain't happenin' here. No siree. Not in Spain. Keep heading northeast and you'll find them for sure.
Funny fact: I saw today two of these "kill me now my eyes are scorched" specimens. They were flauting their miseries to all of us. But oh! let's take a pic of us at the beach! And they COVERED their tatas with their arms for the pic. Oh I see! You don't want people you know to see the deflated tires you call boobs, but all of us poor saps at the beach we have to "enjoy them and lust away". Morons.
Let's move on to the lower part of the 'kini. Why wear a thong when you don't even fit in it? At least we pray it's a thong because if it's a regular one, you are swallowing it whole, babe. Why? How uncomfy that must be.
Now, let's talk about men. Oh yes! Those sexy bastards that find a way to slip into a Speedo and wink at us while strutting that pot belly down the beachline. Oh how yummy you look. Someone tie me down to this beach chair because I am about to jump your bones, you sexy Speedo you.
There are those that wisely see that if they get into a Speedo, they will end up at the hospital with seizures, like this guy:

...in the name of all that is holy...

I am not saying that we should all have Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition bodies; allz I'm saying is to have some common sense -or a good friend that will stop you at the door- and look twice in the mirror, consider your age, gender and body size before heading out that door.
As I move along, I want it to be clear that I don't consider myself to be a jaw dropping woman at all. I do think I look pretty good for my age and I have worked hard for it to be so, but that's as far as I go. Going to the beach here is a huge ego boost for me, because in Spain no one -or nearly no one- gives a flying fuck how they look. No health culture here at all. Zero. Nada. And it is such a shame to see that it doesn't matter if they are young, old, male, female or whatevs: they are all overweight and don't give a crap about it. So that's where I was headed with the ego boost comment, because you know what feel good? Seeing all those twenty year old girls and knowing that I almost double them in age AND I have given birth once and I look pretty fucking fabulous compared to them. If I thought I might have some cellulite somewhere, oh honey no. No, no, no, no! These girls have cellulite ON THEIR ARMS. My "I had a child belly" is a flat washboard while these girls can hold a can of beer on top of theirs. What is wrong with this place? How sad to be so young and throw it all in the crapper! How sad to not care at all! But most of all how sad not to care for yor health, forget the looks! some of them pant when they walk! I am not even gonna talk about those women my age. I will spare you that because it is really shameful.
As you can see, our day at the beach was spent just looking in awe at those who ventured out in the open today. I had for lunch a sandwich which I will not post a pic of because honestly after the photo above no one wants to look at food.
As we drove back home, I started to give shape to the blog in my mind and came up with what I just wrote; but I also came up with somethin' else. It has to do a bit with yesterday's blog and today's beach insights. Here it goes:
I think -read 'I THINK'- that it's very important to care about how we look and here's why. It's not because you should care about what other people think -actually, it's important too, but I'll talk about this below- but YOU should care how you look. I am not saying that we should lather that makeup on and get the big hair up and wear sequined tops to go to the supermarket or wherever. Actually, people who do that look plain stupid; but we should care that we look nice wherever we go. How long does it actually take to put a little makeup on? And what a big difference does that make! Why just towel dry that hair and tie it back in a half assed pony tail? Why not take 10 -and that is TEN BIG minutes- and give it a quick blow dry? We all have those days that we don't even hit that shower because we are either pressed for time or just having a lazy Sunday; but even when I have those "I-tots-skipped-my-shower-because-it's-Sunday-and-I-am-staying-the-hell-in" days, I get out of my pjs, freshen up, comb my hair and sponge on a bit of foundation. Total time invested: 5 minutes.
Why do we care so much how we look when we're younger and when we hit that invisible mark, we go all: "Aww fuck it. This is how I am and I love myself and I'm cool with it and I'm comfortable in my skin and I'm...." I see a lot of my friends and relatives that once they have cast that line and reeled that fool in, looks go to the shithole. Why? Some say "because he let himself go". Oh no, honey. YOU let yourself go and he gave up. Worry when he starts to work out and care. I like to think that if my husband liked what he saw and loved what he discovered in me, I owe it to him not to throw all that away. And at some point I did throw it all away because life turned ugly on me. Difficult birth, baby stayed in hospital for a month, PT for baby for two years, Dad passed away suddenly before my child turned one, I was held hostage in my home for three hours while they robbed us... So what do we do when life turns ugly? We throw ourselves a pity party and eat. A LOT. And God knows I would have kept eating if it wasn't for one of my sisters, whom I hadn't seen in a couple months. When she saw me, she approached from the back and said "Ale! Holy crap, dude! It's you. I didn't recognize you!". When I asked why she said that I looked like the woman who had eaten Ale. Bucket of cold water, right? Well, I thank her IMMENSLY for saying that to me. It woke me up and got my ass to the gym. It took two freakin' years to loose what I had put on in less than six months. I can't even think what my husband must have been thinking. That woman was certainly not who he had married. Later down the road, he went through a similar patch and now we both work our asses off to look good for ourselves and for each other.
Now, about not caring what other people think about your looks? I don't buy it. I don't buy it because when I used to say it I was being a bullshitter. I love it when my son tells me I look pretty. I love it when my husband says my new haircolor looks sexy. I love it when my mom sees me after months of being away and tells me that I look better than ever. I DO CARE, as I 'm sure you all do deep down.
So, in short: we should all be happy in our skin because that's the only one we have. That being said, we should take care of it to the best of our abilities because it's the only one we have. Besides: if we look good, we feel good and viceversa, yes? So next time you're hurrying up in front of that mirror, take five -just five- and change something up. I'm sure someone will bring it to your attention that day and compliment you; and when you start to feel good about it, remember Ale is high fiving you all the way from over here.
Dinner? Who knows! I'm starving! I'm pressing "publish" and off to eat a lil' somethin'.
Sending lots and lots and lots of good vibes to all of you, my very good friends out there.
See you all tomorrow ;)
Namaste, you beautiful souls.