Ze Frank, who?
That’s what I said when my daughters first introduced me to him several years ago. Ze Frank is an online comedian, web artist, and the grand-daddy of vlogging – now there’s three career options my guidance counsellor never told me about back in the 80s! I’m not hip enough to have discovered him on my own, case-in-point: I still use the word ‘hip’.
I watched some of his segments and must admit he’s not only funny, he’s thought-provoking, too. He engages his audience with his rapid-fire delivery and zany antics, but what keeps his audiences coming back for more is how he interacts with them and invites them to participate in unique challenges.
One of my favourites was called, Young Me, Now Me, where he asked his audience to recreate photos from their childhood.
Most submissions are downright hysterical, some not so much, but they all have one thing in common: they chronical our existence through time, like the rings of a tree. Although we change, we are the same person. We are a continuum of our unique, flawed selves from the moment we are conceived (now that would make an awesome Young Me, Now Me photo – Embryo Me, Human Me) to the time when we pass on.
Another fabulously geeky program my daughters introduced me to, is Doctor Who. My favourite incarnation is the Tenth Doctor, who described time best stating, “People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually – from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint – it’s more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly… timey-wimey… stuff.”
Whenever I look at old family photos, time becomes wibbly-wobbly – I recall the precise moment the pic was snapped and my static self, captured on celluloid is resurrected for a brief instant. Time has nothing, and everything, to do with who we are.
So, what does this have to do with weight? Young Me, Now Me can easily become Slim Me, Fat Me and vice versa… which would really be plain old Before & After Me. Despite how old we are, or what size we are, it’s still us.
If Elvis did Slim Me, Fat Me, he’d still be the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll, regardless if he was his svelte self, gyrating those hips in his blue suede shoes, or downing his 8th fried peanut butter and banana sandwich in his seam-splitting polyester jumpsuit. Carnie is still an amazing singer if she’s full-figured Wilson, or slim. And I’m still Mare, no matter what size is sown into my black leotard.
So much of life has happened since that first photo was taken – I have changed so much, inside and out, but I’m still the same person, and my size should not be what defines me.