How to Take Care of Yourself

Darlings, please forgive Pretty Lady's neglecting you. She is recovering from a profligate weekend of Brunch and Literary Readings. She is happy to report, however, that this morning she rose at the crack of nine and repeated her Fabulous Feat of last week; not only did she make it all the way to the park, but trotted gently down the length of it for several blocks. Returning home, she treated herself to an invigorating shower and a French breakfast (instructions to follow) and meditated upon the fact that she used to start all of her days like this, before injury and general despondency intruded. The contented buzz produced by workout-shower-breakfast ought to be a Daily High for every person on the planet. A great deal would be solved that way.

So it is fitting that upon breaching her in-box, she discovered this letter.

Dear Pretty Lady,

As a male I was brought up to show no fear, pain, or weakness, no matter how bad things got. Now I find I'm approaching middle age and I'm simply no longer capable of doing some of the things I used to do. I'm weaker than I used to be, and sometimes in pain, and I can't fight through it the way I could when I was younger.

The trouble is, since I was brought up to believe that weakness of any kind is weakness of character, I can't quite find the line between when I should stop lest I hurt myself and when I want to stop because I just don't feel like pushing.

In other words, I need some way to tell self-indulgence from genuine need for rest. Can you help?

Signed,
Lazy or Exhausted?

Ah, poor dear LOE. You are Not Alone. Pretty Lady is assuming that you are American; it is important to remember that, however degenerate our society has become, its moral roots are those of the Puritans. Your troubles are not unique to your gender. Since the seventeenth century, it has been the habit of our countrymen to equate Self-Abuse with Moral Virtue.

In men, this syndrome manifests as drinking twelve espressos and driving cross-country without stopping--or the programming, term-paper-writing, or particle-accelerator-building equivalent. In women, it manifests chiefly as anorexia, slapping one's own face while looking in the mirror, and uttering the salutary epithet 'stupid bitch' on a repeat loop in one's own mind.

As a backlash against this sort of thing, we are wont to become recklessly and destructively self-indulgent. At times we cleverly combine the two, as in bulimia, or working out while high. What is certain is that most of us have lost all true connection to the messages our bodies are sending us. We have literally no idea when we are hungry, tired, sick or miserable any longer, and we would not know what to do about it if we figured it out.

Pretty Lady is here to tell all of us to Cut That Out. Beating oneself up does not make one a Better Person; it just makes one a sick, tired, miserable, preoccupied bore. It also means that one's loved ones have to scrape up the carcass when one eventually collapses, which is never an agreeable task.

So. Where do we start? Let us at least get the obvious out of the way.

Sharp, stabbing pains: Never good. Stop what you are doing at once. If they persist, see a doctor.

Shortness of breath, acute chest pain: Get in shape or see an allergist. If you have done these things, or if you haven't and they come on suddenly, you are having a heart attack. Go to the emergency room.

Dull ache: Whether physical or emotional, this is an indicator of a general malaise which requires clearing. Go for a brisk walk, sit in a sauna, get a massage, write in your journal, or see a therapist.

Constant, passionate desire to lie down and take a nap, to the point where one is fantasizing about warm snoogly beds with huge down trappings and soundproof walls, and is physically unable to think about anything else for long: Sleep deprivation. Pretty Lady used to get this a lot, until she accepted the fact that her rock-bottom biological requirement is nine hours of sleep per night. If one's schedule does not permit this, nap in the break room at lunchtime, or on the studio chaise longue before setting-t0.

Attention span of less than fifteen seconds, for anything at all, even a new novel by one's favorite author: Lack of exercise, human companionship, or proper nutrition. Take the abovementioned brisk walk, call a friend, and cook a well-balanced meal.

Constant, seething rage: The Holy Spirit can help with that, if one listens committedly, putting prejudice aside, for a decade or two.

In general, when a person is in an advanced state of confusion about whether it hurts or not, and whether anything should be done about it, it is best to start with one consistent observation, and continue with this observation until it becomes a habit. For example: 'Am I hungry, or am I just angry, lonely and frustrated?'

Do not be impatient with yourself if it takes a decade before you are able to answer this question accurately on a regular basis.

If your answer is 'yes' to the question 'am I hungry?' now is the time for a French breakfast, or lunch, or dinner.

Take one from each food group:

High-quality caffeinated beverage (espresso, cappucino, Ceylon tea)

Fresh organic fruit

Fresh organic vegetable (or three)

Freshly-baked carbohydrate

Highly-concentrated naturally occuring fat (butter, olive oil, cream, cheese)

Highly-concentrated protein (egg, bacon, saucisson)

Pungent salty thing (olive paste, anchovies)

Self-indulgent sweet thing (dark chocolate, bitter orange marmalade)

Arrange all elements on breakfast table next to sunny window with lace curtain. Put small dabs on plate, attractively. Inhale appreciatively. Consume slowly and decorously, savoring various combinations.

You will find that if you perform this ritual rigorously and assiduously, you will actually find yourself gaining energy and losing weight. The cause of obesity is not the consumption of fats, proteins or carbohydrates; it is the compensatory overconsumption of plasticized imitation versions of the Real Thing. Once a person starts appreciating food, the food appreciates the person.


Pretty Lady could go on, and on, and on about the delicate art of Taking Care of Oneself, but she feels that this is sufficient to go on with, for the moment. The one other thing she has to say is that LOE--like hell are you 'approaching middle age.' Prime of life, how about it? Gracious.