I wonder if, when mummies were buried, they somehow knew that one day they might be on display. Maybe they had some kind of will which stated, "I have been, and always will be smokin' and your mummification process had better show it off, or I will come haunt you. I'm not kidding."
Archaeologists’ initial intent might not have been simply to discover something so that others could see it. But regardless of their paleontological aspirations, their dino-skeletons and ancient Egyptian kings have wound up behind glass for anyone who wishes to walk by, inspect, and discover for the first time themselves.
While taking a leisurely stroll and chatting with my roomie the other night, she brought to light an aspect of Fat Archaeology that I had never anticipated: other people discovering me, too.
 |
Ouchy. Did you know there's
a tendon there?! |
This laborious, persistent excavation has revealed much more about me than I anticipated. While scraping back layer by fluffy layer, I’ve come across collar bones, knuckles, knees and shoulder blades. I’ve accidentally cut myself shaving where bones were once hidden behind a cushy, cushy buffer. After the dirt’s been brushed aside and artifacts have been exhumed, there is infinitely more to be discovered.
What is it that makes you want to stop and check out the mummy behind the glass, though? Yeah, they look cool – but I bet they’ve got an awesome little placard next to them telling you about where they came from, what they did, and other interesting facts about their life. This is what makes the discovery so appealing, and this is what has made it possible for me, and others, to discover me.
I’m more open to allowing others to discover me because of all of these wonderful changes I’ve gone through. I’m enjoying making myself more visible, whether it’s putting makeup on before going skiing so I feel a little sassier because you never know who you’ll bump into, or getting bolder with fashion because I’m confident enough to finally wear what I like. After I realize that I’ve been checked out, I always find it wonderfully bizarre. It really is a bit weird. I don’t know why I feel this way, but I do. It is good, yes. But, weird.
It’s one thing to catch a glimpse of myself walking down the street and think, “Ha – CUTE!!!” It’s another to walk down the wrong aisle at the grocery store, have a handsome man smile at you as you walk by, and smile back. Then, said handsome man smiles at you again on the way out, offers to carry your bag knowing full well that all you’re carrying is a box of tin foil. So, you let him, and he walks you to your car and says goodnight.
Placard read, subject observed. Score.
I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t looking forward to getting to a point where I’d feel better about myself and start having a few people stop, read my placard, and gaze through the glass for a little while. And, alas, it is happening.
Here is the beauty of not being a mummy behind glass any longer. I can smile back. I can be the exuberant, confident person who is eager to fully participate in life, and let other people admire it, too.
.jpg&description=Smoked%20salmon%2C%20neufchatel%2C%20tomato%2C%20basil%20wrap%20with%20spinach%2C%20mango%2C%20strawberry%20salad%20(and%20mushrooms%2C%20peppers%2C%20and%20whatever%20other%20veggies%20you've%20got%20laying%20around!).%20%20The%20wrap%20is%20HUGE%20-%20share%20for%20fewer%20calories. "Pin It")
Tweet .jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg){kind=link}