As a voice teacher, singer, director, and writer, I prefer to blog about (when I actually blog) things related to these topics. However, because this subject came up in an internet discussion between professional singers, many of whom struggle with this issue, permit me to engage upon a small rant.
I feel like I owe all the self-appointed internet Mr. Experts on other people’s bodies a huge apology. I mean, how dare I not look like they think I should look? Really! The very nerve.
This is me after I had dieted, looking great! Of course, it was many years ago, but how dare I not keep that face and figure? Aren’t there a million products designed to keep me looking young and fit, no matter my numerical age? Just look at Jane Fonda! She is way hotter at 81 than I was at 20! So what is my excuse?
When I was on that diet, I was getting almost no exercise. I found it made me too hungry, and I couldn’t control my calorie intake. Now? I’ve done a 20-minute aerobic dance routine every single day since summer 2015. Every. Single. Day. And decided to worry less about the weight. Do I weigh a little more? Sure. I decided I’d rather be fit than skinny. Exercise also helps put me in a great mood for the day. But maybe I’m wrong about all of that—some Mr. Expert thinks that it is more healthy to be skinny, and he should know, right?
Then at some point I made the terrible choice to turn 50. Weight that used to go to other places started ending up around my middle. What a dumb choice! I really should have sent it to my boobs and butt so I would just get curvier. I mean, seriously, what was I thinking?
Once I even made the mistake of standing up for a fat person on the internet. Big no-no! Some helpful Mr. Expert went to look at photos of me and proclaimed me as “not fat” (Whew! That was like winning an Oscar!), and asked me why I was standing up for her? Well, let me consider this. I’m white and heterosexual, so I suppose I shouldn’t care about racism and homophobia either. Ok, wow, this is going to be really easy—all I have to do is care about what Mr. Expert thinks of me, and then I will be fine.
I am so grateful there are so many self-appointed Mr. Experts who dedicate their lives to selflessly concern-trolling women whom they know nothing about. Someday, one of them will win a Nobel Prize.
(But wait! Until a man shows up to comment on this photo, does it really exist?)