The Endless...

...body image crapola

Those are my old motorcycle boots up there that I cannot bring myself to get rid of. First of all, they are very cool looking, still fit, and are comfy. If I ever have to bear arms, I can throw them on or kick ass with the best of them. Sometimes I drag out my leather cycle jacket too and swagger out someplace, but eventually my bunion or the reality of wearing heavy boots slaps me across the face.

I have also saved the leather pants I sometimes wore on book tours, as well as a denim skirt I have always loved. It’s been a long time since I tried on those two things, but I’m pretty sure they still won’t fit me. So why do I keep that stuff? I suppose you never know, but I’m on the verge of yet another big purge. This stuff is from the past, Kris, and you love the present. (The present is pretty much hiking boots, old pants, shaggy tops, a wallet in my pocket, and an anti-everything hat.)

We are so bombarded by social media crap telling us and showing us what we should look like. Some women never give up searching for the fountain of youth, and I’m here to tell ya that whole fountain thing was a hoax.

There’s a comedian, Celeste Barber, who mimics some of the poses and commercials that famous people and models do. She looks like us. A woman who hasn’t had a knife slice her face or body, or who doesn’t spend hours getting makeup applied. Celeste has little bulges here and there and a sassy, badass attitude. She’s hilarious, and when you feel bad about your old leather clothing, it’s wonderful to watch her.

I have a few friends who are struggling right now with seemingly out-of-nowhere changes to their bodies that show up as if someone pressed a button the day before. I like to think the outward changes in my body mirror the constant shifts I go through emotionally and internally as my time clock ticks.

I’d have no idea what to do with myself if I looked like I did 20, 30, 40, or geeze, even 50 years ago. That ship has sailed, and eventually I wave goodbye to every version of Kris Radish and stride forward, hoping that all my hard work to be better in every way is enough. Wait. Wait. There are tons of days I don’t give a damn and eat chips, take a lactose pill, and have some cheese on my crackers. Whoooo!!!!

We have to live for crying out loud. Life is short, and we still don’t apologize for eating the last donut, swearing in public, lusting after someone hot, not putting up with shit any longer, and drinking the good stuff today.

If you are in the mood for something else, really, subscribe to British TV and watch Riot Women. Can you think of anything better than a mess of women dealing with menopause, being ignored because they have grey hair, and trying to survive the idiots who surround them, than a group of them who form a punk rock band?

I’ve always wanted to sing in a band, so if anyone is ready…get in touch.

And now, as we did in the old days of journalism…###…this one is over.