Comments on: Rant 6 December 2002: Magic machines and gift horses http://www.stumptuous.com/12-2002-magic-machines-and-gift-horses Wed, 08 Sep 2010 09:12:32 -0400 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.6 hourly 1 By: Elizabeth http://www.stumptuous.com/12-2002-magic-machines-and-gift-horses/comment-page-1#comment-191 Elizabeth Mon, 23 Feb 2009 03:30:30 +0000 #comment-191 <i>If our bodies could speak to us, what would they say? For many of us, they would probably say something like, “Stop abusing me, you dumbshit, I’m trying to do my job here!”</i> This is exactly the experience I've been having for the past few months: my body is bitching me out hardcore about the way I've been treating it, and ordering me around. It's become impossible to ignore, which is quite an experience -- rather like being possessed by the spirit of a very cranky personal trainer. "Stop drinking so much, you damn lush, I'm sick of being hungover and fat." "Eat some vegetables, for the LOVE of CHRIST." "If you don't start doing back hyperextensions now, I am going to crack in half at the waist." "Move. No, more. No, MORE. MOVE. OW. MOVE." "Quit with the aspartame already. I don't even know what this shit <i>is</i>, much less what I'm supposed to do with it." "OM NOM NOM NOM" (translation: "I need protein so badly I've started talking like a lolcat, HALP") I'm doing the things it says even as the contradictory messages run circles around my brain, because I'm pretty sure my body knows better, and also because its messages are so strong that my brain can only wring its hands and fret helplessly in the background. It's a very <i>vivid</i> illustration of the mind/body divide (your crackpot theories about which you should totally share) and if I could bottle whatever started it I would make millions. If our bodies could speak to us, what would they say? For many of us, they would probably say something like, “Stop abusing me, you dumbshit, I’m trying to do my job here!”

This is exactly the experience I’ve been having for the past few months: my body is bitching me out hardcore about the way I’ve been treating it, and ordering me around. It’s become impossible to ignore, which is quite an experience — rather like being possessed by the spirit of a very cranky personal trainer.

“Stop drinking so much, you damn lush, I’m sick of being hungover and fat.”

“Eat some vegetables, for the LOVE of CHRIST.”

“If you don’t start doing back hyperextensions now, I am going to crack in half at the waist.”

“Move. No, more. No, MORE. MOVE. OW. MOVE.”

“Quit with the aspartame already. I don’t even know what this shit is, much less what I’m supposed to do with it.”

“OM NOM NOM NOM” (translation: “I need protein so badly I’ve started talking like a lolcat, HALP”)

I’m doing the things it says even as the contradictory messages run circles around my brain, because I’m pretty sure my body knows better, and also because its messages are so strong that my brain can only wring its hands and fret helplessly in the background. It’s a very vivid illustration of the mind/body divide (your crackpot theories about which you should totally share) and if I could bottle whatever started it I would make millions.

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