Fighting the Flab

Watching the BAFTAs last night made me think about what it means to be lean. Ok, so not all of those bodies lining up to get those awards were what the industry would call beautiful; the brains that sit all day in edit suites were just as lardy as the rest of us who spin words and visions around all day, but for the sake of the argument....

The Brads and Angelinas and Kates and Devs were all there because they work harder than I do. They put their energy in the right place and their bodies and their BAFTAS are testament to it. Ok, so there's the whole thing about what the media requires from its leading actors but that's not it. Getting off your backside shows. Like exfoliation and abstention from mid-week boozing, so doing the daily automatic writing rather than simply telling all my students to do it, works. Dead skin shed, liver perky and brain stimulated is the difference between doing it now and doing it tomorrow, doing it well or being half-hearted about who you are.

At 45, when exactly am I going to be the lean, mean, writing machine that I could be if not now? Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, I've decided; it's the measure of being in tune with my inner self.