She said she’d haunt me…
..if I named my daughter Gertrude Florence…
The fat ladies club phone list was sticky and yellowed with nicotine. My maternal grandmother went to a weekly meeting to weigh in and see if she won the cash pot. During the rest of the week, you could find her taking long, smoky exhales while the sound of the rotary dial connected her with women from the club.
I can only imagine the story medicine they were sharing. It is the way of women to speak their trials and triumphs to each other, to speak life into each other.
She sat at a round table in the corner of the basement, where she could see every corner of the space but whoever was coming down the stairs had to peek around to see her.
I watched her sneak low calorie, artificially sweetened ice cream bars - usually two at a time - from the freezer. And one day while we were at the grocery store, I saw her pull a York Peppermint Patty and eat it while pushing the cart. She tucked the wrapper away in her purse.
My grandmother had skinny legs and didn’t seem that overweight to me. Her belly, now I know, was swollen with inflammation as her insulin response was so erratic as a diagnosed diabetic.
During the Great Depression, she was a young girl who spent her earnings on the way home from work in order to savor the rewards of her efforts.
I inherited her habits in many ways. When I feel unsure and unheard, I go to my cave and call a trusted woman. I used to smoke too but thankfully I realized how that was swelling my belly and receding my gums.
And, like my grandmother, I end up with keys to everybody’s house. I’m the one to call when it’s time for the initiation. The birth or the funeral. I’ll make sure everyone is fed and heard. I can handle uncertainty by choosing myself first, in ways that are barely perceptible to others. And when it’s time for silly mischief, I’ll be first in line.
Watching my grandmother die was one of the most humbling and profound spiritual experiences of my life. After her death, when we were sorting through her belongings, I found a note written when I was a girl...
“Grandma, please stop smoking. I love you. I don’t want you to die of lung cancer.”
I gasped wondering if I had written her fate, manifested it somehow.
I have believed a lot of stupid ideas about how life works, how our bodies heal and what the purpose of spiritual life is…
And now I seek objective reality. Earth based reality. The reality of ancestral wisdom we have forgotten in the 21st century.
You see, too often our views on our bodies are based on another person‘s opinions or how products are marketed. That’s subjective, not objective. That’s projection, not fact.
Even as a girl, I knew that there was something off with the way women were seeing themselves. I could sense the pain underneath the desire to change, the belief that we somehow weren’t good enough in the bodies we have right now.
Stay tuned for my story of how I chose to accept my appearance and body and how that shifted my ability to stay in my power.
And let me know if you’re in for the 7 weeks we will share together, actively healing and claiming the lives we get to live in these bodies right now.
Honoring our grandmothers, bringing forward their wisdom and setting down for good what belonged to them but is not ours to carry.
Radiant Body starts Monday, September 16.
Daily support. Weekly calls. Objective teachings.
$399 until August 30th - PayPal me at @NicoleReneeMatthews to secure one of 7 available spots
Email me to learn more.
