Know thyself

Someone said that Aristotle said, "knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom." That sounds like some really smart thing to say, and from the little I know, Aristotle was a really smart cat. So I believe he probably did say it. But what the hell does it mean? What does "knowing yourself" mean? And even if you "know yourself" at some point in time, is it possible to not "know yourself" at other times? Based on personal experience, I have to say, "yes" it is entirely possible. Was there a time in my life when I thought I knew myself? You bet there was. When I was young and stupid, I thought I knew everything. Not only did I know myself, but I knew people in general and above all - I knew how the world worked. During that time in my life, what I knew - or thought I knew - about me was that I was sure footed, confident, organized, anal, focused, goal-driven, compassionate, empathetic, argumentative, aggressive, kind, generous, no nonsense, secure in the knowledge that I would never be a victim, a good friend, of average intelligence, a lover of music, a believer in God, a hard worker, a good negotiator, sharp tongued, a righter of wrongs and on and on. In addition to all of this, I knew - without a doubt - that I was a "fat girl with a pretty face" that a man would never love. A man could not love me because I was fat. It did not matter that I had a "pretty face". It did not matter that I had at least some positive qualities. It only mattered that I was fat. I knew that because I had been told that by my parents - good, loving, honest people who would never lie to me or steer me wrong. Then, somehow, the impossible happened. A man loved me. I loved him. We did what two people in love do. We got married. And then it happened. I stopped "knowing myself". It's as if I woke up one day and no longer recognized myself. I looked in the mirror and an image looked back at me. I did not recognize her; I did not know her. I seem to have lost the attributes that used to make me, me. I'm not confident. I'm not organized. Hell I can't even figure out how to sit down and get the bills paid. Bills I have been paying for year and suddenly I feel clueless about what to do or when to do it. I have no goals. My compassion, for the most part, has left me. I don't care if I'm a victim, I question everything knowing only that I know nothing . . . not really. Music no longer matters to me - I'd just as soon listen to talk radio. I seem to create more wrongs then I fix. I go to work, but I don't want to. And God has become this big question mark in my mind. I don't feel connected to anyone or anything. The mass which is my body just seems to take up space - wasting precious natural resources. But hey, I'm still fat! Didn't lose that. Didn't lose that knowledge. I wake up every morning and the first thought I have is. . . how fat am I today? How is it that the beginning of all wisdom. . . for me anyway. . . lies in the knowledge that I am fat? I don't know anything else - not anymore, but I know that one thing. That one fact. I am fat. That's what I know. That's the beginning of my wisdom. Ha! Fat people die young. Fat people miss out on so much life - so much living - because their bodies simply will not let them engage in physical activities - fun stuff that skinny people get to do on a regular basis. So thank you Aristotle for your wisdom. What I know at 51 is that I have a fat body. I am fat. I will die young and I won't get to have much fun along the way because carrying too much blubber around is too fucking hard. Is there any wonder I hate life?