The Empanada 15

This post has nothing to do with my weekend travels nor does it include scenic pictures (although I have quite the arsenal locked and loaded now) but rather this post addresses one of the few dark sides of life abroad – dun, dun, dun, – weight gain or in my case most accurately phrased “The Empanada 15.”  This is something I have wanted to write about for a long time and while it is quite an uncomfortable subject I feel it is important to open up this conversation if not for others it will at least give me some peace of mind.

What prompted me to finally write this? Well it all started on a Tuesday ( I HATE Tuesdays)…

I arrived at school with minor headache from anticipating my three hours with eighth graders. During ‘el descanso’ (the break) I took my snack and a stack of papers to grade into the teachers’ lounge where about six other staff members were chatting all seated in a circle. I greeted everyone in the room, an ABSOLUTE must in Colombian culture unless you want to be shunned, and took an empty seat in the corner of the room. I began grading some work as a male teacher approached me and said, “Sarita, you look more beautiful now than when you came because you have gained weight.” The entire room filled with laughter. Honestly, I thought I had misheard him, while my Spanish is definitely improving it still has it’s lapses. I nervously turned to my co-teacher and asked her to translate what he said to me seriously hoping the mediocre Spanish-English dictionary in my brain had malfunctioned. My worst nightmare came true, I was correct. In a room full of laughter, all I wanted to do was cry. Fighting back hot and heavy tears I forced a smile and continued to sit there. I have never felt more alone in this country.

Now, I am well aware that I live in the land of ‘gorditos’, ‘negros’, and ‘flacas.’ During my time in both Buenos Aires and here in Colombia I have grown accustomed to the uhh honesty? of Latin Culture. For example, during my first week at school, once again, in the teachers’ lounge a few were trying to identify exactly which Valentina one was referring to (I cannot count on one hand how many Valentinas I have in my classes):

Teacher A: “Which Valentina are you talking about?”
Teacher B: “Oh you know, the gordita (fat little one) who studies a lot in the tenth grade.

I once again found myself thinking, “Did I hear that correctly?” Teacher B was in fact praising this student, however, I could not get past the “gordita” comment. But in Colombian culture this is a term of affection. I cannot imagine calling a tenth grade female student “little fat one” but here it’s completely normal.

Fast-forward three months and here I am sitting in the corner biting my lip, blinking away tears, and trying to swallow that annoying weight in your throat that always comes with you’re trying not to cry. Anyways, this post is in no way supposed to be a negative reflection on my school, teachers, nor Colombia, rather, it is to highlight a cultural difference that makes me extremely uncomfortable. After all, a key component of traveling abroad is addressing and learning about cultural differences. As a twenty-something former female athlete, weight and more importantly a positive body image has been a life-long struggle. Beginning with my ballerina days I was constantly in an environment of deprivation. Coming from a history of disordered eating, I have strived my entire life to stay on track, eliminate the bad thoughts, and embrace the ‘love your body’ mentality, you know like the Dove commercials. I speak for many females when I say easier said than done. As little as a side comment can swing me off my balance for days, weeks, and even months. It’s been about two months since the said incident and those words still remain plastered in my head.

I’m not fat. I know that. I’m actually pretty athletic. I can still run a sub 7 minute mile with little training and yes, I can do pushups. In the end what is said is said and I cannot go back and “unhear” this comment. In fact, this comment was supposed to be a compliment. I’m sure the teacher had no idea I would be thinking and analyzing a single sentence. While I am aware empanadas don’t exactly have the same caloric intake as celery sticks I am enjoying my time abroad which also means embracing the culture (read: I’m eating food). So while my pants may be a bit tighter and my monthly mileage may be a bit lower I am loving every minute of life abroad. Part of experiencing a new culture is trying the local cuisine. Fortunately, my stomach has had zero issues assimilating into the Colombian way of life: the bread is rich, the coffee is strong, and the empanadas are plentiful, Sarita is happy. Colombian food is delicious, but as the daughter of two medical professionals I am constantly at war with the nutrition label (if there even is one).  In fact, even the “healthy” foods here are not exactly healthy. A few weeks ago I watched in horror as the barista poured a week’s equivalent of sugar into my juice. I hope I am still part of the No Cavity Club after this year… While Colombian women are #blessed with all the curves in all the right places, I (the gringa) am forever fighting kankles alongside the roaches in my shower.

So after living in two South American countries I’ve learned many invaluable things and would not trade my time abroad for anything, not even a year’s supply of Peter Pan Honey Roasted Peanut Butter. Since Buenos Aires I have tried to reason with myself that gaining weight is not a death sentence, that carbs are indeed meant to be eaten (and not stared at), and if someone offers you empanadas your response better be HYFR.

So senoras y senores, here is the rationale I have come up with:

Weight gain. A scary combination of words for anyone. I try not to generalize, but as a former college athlete and ballet dancer, I have witnessed quite the array of eating habits, both healthy and unhealthy. I’ve restricted, I’ve eliminated, I’ve cut. I’ve been vegetarian, vegan, paleo, gluten-free, and now my current diet: strict pastry-only. As I am forever waiting for the day that a study reveals carbs are the new kale, I do not for see that happening any time soon. So I’ve gained a few pounds, these pounds are like (semi-permanent) souvenirs. Here’s the tagline: I can lose the weight but I can’t lose the memories! In all seriousness looking back to my college years shows a true testament that yes, the freshman 15 is real, ya’ll. But I would not trade my late-night Cookout runs nor 1am drunken Dominos Pizza online orders to have a skinnier arm in pictures. That’s what perfecting the skinny arm pose is for! I’m not promoting an all Denny’s Diner diet (is Denny’s an international franchise yet?), however living abroad has taught me that I can be happy without chiseled six-pack abs (not that I have ever experienced this sensation but using for dramatic effect here). It took me a three plane tickets and a few thousand miles to come to terms with this realization but addressing alongside accepting weight gain abroad has been a monumental life lesson for me.

For me, the cheese to my hot chocolate (trying to use a Colombian food combination as a metaphor, just roll with it) about living abroad are the endless opportunities to experience a new culture. Colombian culture is constantly at my fingertips, literally sitting with empanada in my left hand as I write. From embracing a new language to testing my white girl dance moves on the salsa floor to accidentally ordering cow liver ( now that is a distinct smell I will never forget) everyday is truly an adventure. Living among the happiest people in the world here in Colombia makes me realize that worrying about a few pounds here and there is a serious waste of time.

If you have made it this far in my post, congrats! While most of my posts are full of happy thoughts (I LOVE COLOMBIA) and pictures, I hope this post gives a realistic insight to a constant struggle while living abroad. The opening of this conversation might help others but if nothing else it really helps me organize my own thoughts on maintain a positive body image thousands of miles away from home. In just 1400 words I have described around five years of frustration. As I enter the second half of my “Jordan year” here’s to a few more pushups and a little less Aguardiente (maybe). ~Sarita

Tunage:

So I apologize for the lack of this week’s TuNeS but I have been working at an English camp for two weeks without great internet which limited my tune time. Below you will find some recent favorites though.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJ_Tw0w3lLA Dark Necesities- RHCP (Dad! Check this out.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfXvOXJLJK4 Sin Saber Por Qué- Manuel Medrano (Can’t get enough of this guy.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1PSltPqeQc Pierde Los Modales- J. Balvin y Daddy Yankee (What a great combo really.)

BeSiToS de Cali!