That Body Of Yours Is Absurd
Melinda considers matters of....mind over matter.
This past winter, my boyfriend, Paul, ran into the ocean. He and another friend had come in last place in their fantasy football league, and were now doomed to meet the punishment that Paul himself had come up with just a few months before. We drove down to the beach, and little flurries started to fall from the sky, a white pale sheet that hurt my eyes.
I fretted about the plunge for weeks beforehand. I wondered if I should buy him electric blankets or some kind of thermal clothing, wondered whether or not this was safe. On the day of, we brought nothing with us but some towels and old blankets from his parents’ house. I didn’t have time to worry about him because earlier that week I had started to feel remarkably ill, sick in a way that I hoped was a minor disruption to my schedule but I knew deep down was not. In secret, I put my bathing suit on under my sweats, thinking I would surprise Paul and follow him in, but when he darted for the shore, I found myself frozen in place.
. . .
I’ve been thinking a lot about what a body can do. Bodies do not care about your schedule; they have their own, and won’t submit to yours without serious force. I watched that video of Sha’Carri Richardson maybe five times this week, how she and the other runners can pull themselves upright so well, and move across the frame with such power but also make it look ridiculously easy. My knees crack too often, I hunch my shoulders, and I get winded on three flights of stairs. My one natural ability, to a fault, is not physical discipline or prowess, but a stupid determination that keeps my body moving through my life, regardless of the repercussions. I stay up too late, I take on too much, I let the weight of everything crush me into pieces that could be always reassembled.
In a bar last weekend, I watched a bartender roll his ankle, grip the counter behind him and bark out in pain. He forced the sound in his throat to stop as soon as it had started, instead throwing his body from side to side, slamming the energy of the accident into the glasses he drove into the counter. The bartender surveyed the packed room quickly, still wincing through thin, sharp heaves of breath, and began to serve patrons on one foot, hopping around for the rest of the evening, but moving still with a speed close to his original pace, not missing a step. Sometimes, you have to do what you have to do.
On the last day of Lilly’s bachelorette trip, her friend Ariana, previously the head of studios at Breathwrk in Los Angeles, led us in meditation before a cold plunge. We bought a 70-gallon basin at Home Depot and 150 pounds of ice from the gas station in the early hours of the morning. As plunge time approached, I found myself feeling excited, which surprised me. The idea of conquering something, anything at all, was so enticing to me after a winter and spring that had beaten me down into a perpetual state of defeat.
Before the plunge, Ariana led us in Wim Hof method breathing exercises that made my face tingle and left me feeling amped up. For the uninitiated, Wim Hof is a Dutch guy who believes, among many things, that humans can regulate their body temperature through the sheer power of their own minds. I first heard about him on the Netflix Goop Lab show a few years ago. His ideas around cold therapy and breathwork are controversial and have drawn mixed results scientifically — which sounds like a bad endorsement, but he has successfully been able to “artificially induce a stress response in his body that helps him resist the effects of cold” many times before. For some reason, I was certain I could, too.
Ariana told us we would aim for three minutes in the basin. Okay, I thought, I can always get out.
I watched Val go first, and I began to worry about my own turn when I heard the panic in her voice. She left the water after about 20 seconds. A few more people tried it, and nobody was faring too well. Okay, I could always get out. Nothing bad would happen, and nothing could feel worse than what I had been experiencing for the past few months.
I thought of Paul, half tripping into the water, autopilot turning his body ever slightly to cushion the crash, narrowly avoiding a face plant. He had moved so quickly he hadn’t felt it coming, couldn’t do the conscious calculation while facing all that cold. Sometimes, you had to do what you had to do.
On some level, I felt that this could be a small redemption of sorts — for Melinda on the shoreline, watching everything unfold but unable to do anything, overcome with a powerlessness that had become my default. I didn’t want to feel like that anymore, at least for a few seconds. This was the logic that crept over me, until I found myself stepping into the water and sitting down in the basin. I let out a screechy, very unsexy yelp padded by expletives that turned into involuntary gasping, meant to resemble the Wim Hof breathing. Suddenly, my mind was very quiet. I could not remember the last time it had been that quiet in my head. My feet turned to pins and needles. This should have been a terrible feeling, but for some reason, a passivity fell over me. It felt strangely peaceful, totally unlike the kind of pain I had been expecting. My fight or flight response, which had been constantly activated in the past few months, turned off.
It occurred to me later that people might have been talking to me, but I did not hear them. My body was in the water, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. As I began to walk around in that other space, suddenly Ariana was telling me that three minutes were up, and that I was the first to make it so long.
I emerged from the water exhilarated, barreling around the yard, in giddy disbelief that I’d been in any longer than a minute. Everyone cheered. The rest of the girls were even inspired to take another crack at it, and our whole group ended up staying in for at least three minutes after watching my successful plunge. The noise of my mind returned eventually, of course, but it’s been nice holding on to the idea that I could make it stop. The plunge was a release in ways I hadn’t entirely expected, and since then I’ve been thinking of that quiet, and how to get it back. I’m sure I can, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now, because now I’ve seen it happen. Maybe, with the right amount of force at the right time, we really can bend ourselves into whatever shape we want. — MF
Hunter-gatherer corner
What we’ve read and DMed each other about lately — our internet bounty is below!
“Can Wim Hof Method breathing induce conscious metabolic waste clearance of the brain?” by John A. Chavez and Mauro Zapaterra - Medical Hypotheses — Because my algorithm is obsesseddd with me, I was fed a video from a woman talking about this medical paper that discusses the possibility of using Wim Hof breathing to “induce accelerated, conscious waste clearance of the brain.” Hot! I’ve been intermittently trying to do more Wim Hof meditation throughout my week since the plunge, and I def feel more smooth brained afterwards. — MF
“Delaney Rowe Isn’t Trying To Be Cringe” by Tyler McCall - Vanity Fair — Every time I bump into Delaney’s videos on my FYP, I have to stop in awe of how good she is at mimicking the worst parts of female film tropes. Also, this controverisal-in-the-comments banger has stayed with me ever since I saw it. A perfect depiction of 2 people in PAIN. — MF
“The biggest names in food are just regular people on TikTok” by Alicia Kennedy - Vox — Speaking of TikTok, it was so great editing food culture writer
earlier this month on the changing landscape of food media! — MF“Chance the Rapper Will Always Be Proud of Acid Rap” by Sam Sanders - Vulture — A compelling interview with Chance The Rapper, who did fall off so hard I don’t think he’ll ever get up, but love to think of Lilly and I way back when in our dorm listening to Acid Rap and Coloring Book. <3 — MF
“Whoever Starves Least, Wins” by Nicholas Qua - Vulture — At the beginning of the pandemic, my partner and I became borderline obsessed with survival shows. Not going to unpack that too much, but you can probably guess why. We binge-watched Naked & Afraid until we discovered Alone, which captivated us because it was so much grittier. It was also terrifying. Qua investigates the danger that we can’t look away from, and the contestants that make the show happen. Particularly timely with Melinda’s thoughts on what the body can and can’t do (and also what it probably should and shouldn’t). — LM
Why Not?
Why Not? is our biweekly list of recommendations. Think recipes, gift guides, podcasts, clothes, and anything we consider to be generally chic. Have a suggestion? Let us know!
Nowadays Low Dose Spirit — I was gifted this THC spirit and was unsure what to do with it, but then I saw Greta Rolli (one of the ruling NYC wedding influencers, she went down to the courthouse yesterday and is headed to Portugal for the nuptials if you’re in the mood to spy) made a lychee limearita with it. I did the same, and wow, I am out of practice but Nowadays packs a punch in just 1.5 ounces, which well, I can’t complain. There are many more lychee drinks in my future. — MF
Miso-Honey Chicken and Asparagus - NYTimes Cooking — This is THE weeknight meal. I’m a snob so I’m not one of those people who complains about having to chop an onion for an “easy” recipe, but I have to admit, sometimes it’s nice to do barely any work for a big reward. I swapped the asparagus out for broccolini, and chose to bake my chicken thighs at 425ºF for 30 minutes, add the broccolini in on another sheet for the last 10 minutes, and then broil it all for 5. — LM
Seared Scallops With Jammy Cherry Tomatoes - NYTimes Cooking — Another recipe I loved! Summer means tomato season, which means I count down the days until I get my CSA box. This was another pretty low-effort recipe that had a huge payoff. — LM
Best Gazpacho - NYTimes Cooking — Yeah, we stan NYTimes Cooking in this house. This is the perfect summer dinner for your tomato season rotation, feels so chic, and it’s just foolproof if you own a blender. — MF
The Organic Wide-Leg Pant - Everlane — Even though I am sad this summer that never really happened is just about over, I am secretly a little happy that I can start wearing pants (specifically these Everlane pants, which I have in the dark green Kambaba color) again. One note: These don’t have a ton of stretch, so if you’re in between sizes, I’d go one up. — LM
- by and — I read Aja and Aliza’s incredible newsletter pretty much as soon as it comes out on Thursday mornings. I look forward to their introspective essays on friendship, family, and life in general — as well as their thoughtful recommendations! Subscribe subscribe!! — LM
Restarting your computer — I know I’m not the only idiot out here wondering why their MacBook is HUFFING and PUFFING every time they try to open a Google Doc, meanwhile the thing hasn’t been turned off or restarted in like a year. I finally remembered to give her a rest and she's doing great now <3 (Click the link to see my computer’s real-time reaction to finally being turned off for once.) Restart your computer idiots!! — LM
If you liked this issue, dive into an ice bath! Tell us your thoughts in the comments or on Instagram (@lilly_milman | @melindafakuade), or send this to the Adam Levine to your Sumner Stroh.
Melinda, I LOVED your piece — so beautiful and thought provoking. And Lilly, thank you for the reminder restarting works magic 🙏