This time next week I will be on a plane to Melbourne. I'm going there to interview a potential psychiatrist so my move to Melbourne -- early next year -- will be as smooth as possible.
Of course I'm nervous about meeting this guy, but that's not the reason my stomach is in knots and my head is screaming all those awful fat hating jibes.
I'm terrified that I won't fit into the plane seat. It's ridiculous really since last year -- June -- I flew to Melbourne and while the seat belt and the seat were a little snug I did, indeed, fit. Albeit I sucked in my flab so no one would complain about me. Not that they would have since I sat in the window seat with my mum sitting next to me. Any complainers would have been more inclined to complain about my mum than me. But rational thinking isn't always my strongest point.
Usually I don't think about these things, well not to the degree that it's already causing me stress and anxiety. Of course we all know I'm prone to both of those, so I suppose it's not really such a big step to worrying about something I have no control over -- at least not a week from the flight.
You see, I saw on Today Tonight (a "current affairs" program aired in Australia) yet another diet to lose those "unsightly rolls" etc. I don't pay much attention to these segments other than to shake my fist menacingly at the tv and provide a running commentary on what bullshit they're saying. This time, however, something stuck. A woman was saying how she was embarrassed to have to ask for the seat belt extender on flights. All I could think was: Oh shit, that's going to be me.
I don't necessarily look as huge as I feel, of course I look bigger than some people -- okay perhaps a lot of people -- but I fit in cinema seats, bus seats, car seat and pretty much all other kinds of seats without my fatty bits invading someone else's territory. In some part, because of these things, I told myself that as long as I could still sit in those things without invading another's territory then I was an "acceptable" fatty. Hey, I never said my strongest suit was being rational. I don't mean to say that anyone bigger than me is a "bad fatty" or thinner than me a "good fatty" etc. The rules applied to myself are extremes and do not apply to anyone else, ever. If only I respected myself as much as I respect others. Anyway, that's a post more suited for the mental health blog.
On Saturday as I was sitting on my bed deciding what I should wear, it suddenly struck me that I would need to lose weight by Wednesday the 5th October so I could, comfortably, fit into the plane seat and do the buckle up.
My initial reaction was: OMGWTF are you thinking? 1. You don't have time to lose enough weight (I think I'm a lot bigger than I am) and 2. Where do you think you're going to get the motivation to actually do what you want to do?
My secondary reactions was: OMGWTF are you entirely insane? You've been following FA blogs for a while and you're far more aware of how beautiful your body can be and now, because of some stupid flippant comment on a tv show you don't even like, you want to lose weight to conform to society's acceptable look? Are you fucking kidding me?
I'm ashamed that I felt this dire need to conform, to change myself to "fit in" instead of asking and/or demanding -- although demanding doesn't usually get anyone anywhere -- I be accepted exactly as I am. However, I'm not the only one who has moments of self consciousness and incredibly low self esteem. It's not easy being who you are and having friends, family, and even strangers tell you how wrong you are. Sometimes even the strongest people have moments of self doubt. It's comforting even if it doesn't decrease the shame I still feel for allowing such thoughts to run rampant.
It's hard to share this, honestly, with anyone. My weight is still a sore topic for me and no matter how many times I talk about it I still wait for the other shoe to drop; the fat hatred to begin. Still, I felt it important to share this with you, with anyone who may read this, because nothing is that simple. It's easy to make informed choices and decisions, but it's incredibly hard to maintain those choices and decisions.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
It Finally Happened...
Well it's finally happened, the dreaded Doctor saying everything is caused by my weight and therefore I must have diabetes or some glucose intolerance.
I went to the doctor this morning, not my usual dickhead doctor, the other one, the female one. I needed to discuss something a little more personal and I didn't want some dude looking at my lady parts. Yes, I said "lady parts", I'm not above being embarrassed and uncomfortable talking about the more private areas of my body.
Anyway, she looked and gave me antibiotics. However, she did go on rather a lot about how I'm big and that my malady is most likely caused by diabetes -- the fat people kind, type 2 -- or a pre-diabetic thing relating to glucose intolerance, blah blah blah.
Now, I'm not an old hand at the Fat Acceptance thing and my memory doesn't allow me to remember numbers and statics and all the necessary information regarding the absurdity of her words. She even went so far as to use medical terms -- which of course I can't remember -_- -- to explain how being fat can create these kinds of things.
But that's not the worst part.
The worst part is that I just sat there and nodded even though my blood started boiling. I just sat there. I didn't say that there is no solid scientific evidence of fat = diabetes, nor did I even stand up for myself when she insinuated my fat was bad.
I was basically a big fat lump on a chair with no backbone. Ugh.
Oh, then we spoke of a pap smear. I have neglected to have one, ever. I don't suggest doing this. Anyway, she said she could try but because I'm "bigger" she may not be able to find my cervix. She went on to say this is usually due to the beds at the surgery -- they are small and up against a wall making it hard to spread ones legs wide enough -- and the lack of a gynaecological chair.
So my fat is causing me to have diabetes -- or a diabetes related problem -- and will also make getting a pap smear hard.
Thank you so much for the wonderful self esteem boost there, Doctor.
Again, while she was telling me all this I just sat there. Partly stunned she was so callous, partly angry and wanting to walk out, and partly embarrassed to do anything because she was previously looking at my lady parts.
I'm still angry that I couldn't find my voice and that she spat all that bullshit about being fat at me. Right now I feel rather pathetic, and quite possibly I am, and I wouldn't mind burying my head in the sand until such time as fat is accepted. Hopefully that might be within my lifetime.
I went to the doctor this morning, not my usual dickhead doctor, the other one, the female one. I needed to discuss something a little more personal and I didn't want some dude looking at my lady parts. Yes, I said "lady parts", I'm not above being embarrassed and uncomfortable talking about the more private areas of my body.
Anyway, she looked and gave me antibiotics. However, she did go on rather a lot about how I'm big and that my malady is most likely caused by diabetes -- the fat people kind, type 2 -- or a pre-diabetic thing relating to glucose intolerance, blah blah blah.
Now, I'm not an old hand at the Fat Acceptance thing and my memory doesn't allow me to remember numbers and statics and all the necessary information regarding the absurdity of her words. She even went so far as to use medical terms -- which of course I can't remember -_- -- to explain how being fat can create these kinds of things.
But that's not the worst part.
The worst part is that I just sat there and nodded even though my blood started boiling. I just sat there. I didn't say that there is no solid scientific evidence of fat = diabetes, nor did I even stand up for myself when she insinuated my fat was bad.
I was basically a big fat lump on a chair with no backbone. Ugh.
Oh, then we spoke of a pap smear. I have neglected to have one, ever. I don't suggest doing this. Anyway, she said she could try but because I'm "bigger" she may not be able to find my cervix. She went on to say this is usually due to the beds at the surgery -- they are small and up against a wall making it hard to spread ones legs wide enough -- and the lack of a gynaecological chair.
So my fat is causing me to have diabetes -- or a diabetes related problem -- and will also make getting a pap smear hard.
Thank you so much for the wonderful self esteem boost there, Doctor.
Again, while she was telling me all this I just sat there. Partly stunned she was so callous, partly angry and wanting to walk out, and partly embarrassed to do anything because she was previously looking at my lady parts.
I'm still angry that I couldn't find my voice and that she spat all that bullshit about being fat at me. Right now I feel rather pathetic, and quite possibly I am, and I wouldn't mind burying my head in the sand until such time as fat is accepted. Hopefully that might be within my lifetime.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Sick and tired of double standards.
I'm really tired of people saying they want others to treat them with respect when they don't treat others with respect.
For instance:
Being bullied in school -- called fat, ugly, lesbian, gay, ranga, metal mouth, pizza face, what ever the name -- then saying "people shouldn't wear leggings as pants" or "why would they sing that crappy song?" or "their writing is so bad I can't believe I've just read this" is exactly the same as what the bullies -- those people you cry/whinge/bitch/hate/fight -- are doing to you.
Seriously, you're being hypocritical. You want people to accept you and your choices but you refuse to accept others and their choices. That's just not cool.
If someone wants to wear leggings as pants: don't bloody look.
If that person wants to sing that song: don't bloody listen.
If someone writes something: don't bloody read it.
This constant obsession people have of tearing down others is awful. Then the next breath is "you need to respect my rights to..."
Seriously, I'm all about doing what makes you happy. Why must there always be someone who comes along and dictates the terms of what you can do to be happy? Damnit, if I want to put my fat arse in a pair of leggings I will do it; BECAUSE IT MAKES ME HAPPY. I'm not hurting anyone nor am I forcing anyone to look at me.
So next time you're preaching/crying/begging/asking/whining/demanding respect ask yourself if you are being truly respectful to others. Ask yourself if it's really any of your business what someone else wears/sings/writes/reads/listens to/likes. Ask yourself if you would like them to judge you the way you're judging them.
For instance:
Being bullied in school -- called fat, ugly, lesbian, gay, ranga, metal mouth, pizza face, what ever the name -- then saying "people shouldn't wear leggings as pants" or "why would they sing that crappy song?" or "their writing is so bad I can't believe I've just read this" is exactly the same as what the bullies -- those people you cry/whinge/bitch/hate/fight -- are doing to you.
Seriously, you're being hypocritical. You want people to accept you and your choices but you refuse to accept others and their choices. That's just not cool.
If someone wants to wear leggings as pants: don't bloody look.
If that person wants to sing that song: don't bloody listen.
If someone writes something: don't bloody read it.
This constant obsession people have of tearing down others is awful. Then the next breath is "you need to respect my rights to..."
Seriously, I'm all about doing what makes you happy. Why must there always be someone who comes along and dictates the terms of what you can do to be happy? Damnit, if I want to put my fat arse in a pair of leggings I will do it; BECAUSE IT MAKES ME HAPPY. I'm not hurting anyone nor am I forcing anyone to look at me.
So next time you're preaching/crying/begging/asking/whining/demanding respect ask yourself if you are being truly respectful to others. Ask yourself if it's really any of your business what someone else wears/sings/writes/reads/listens to/likes. Ask yourself if you would like them to judge you the way you're judging them.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Random Confessions
Sometimes being a fat chick isn't that bad. There are times when you find people who don't judge you by your looks and there are times when you can connect with similarly shaped people. That's not to say it's easy or that these events happen a lot - do not make the mistake of thinking everything is great just because of a few chance moments.
Just like other things in life it's never all bad nor all good. It is what it is and I grab hold of any good moments with a ferocity that startles -- okay scares the hell out of -- people.
You see being fat doesn't mean I have to hate myself, the world around me or even the people who would so readily judge me. I don't have to be anything nor do I have to act a certain way -- ashamed -- to appease the fat haters. I can be fat and simultaneously be happy, fun, cute, sweet, gorgeous and sexy! Le sexy purr.
Here's a little secret I've never told anyone: I actually like being fat. Gasp
I like it because I'm not pretending to be someone or something I'm not. I'm not a "skinny chick living in a fat chick's body" or some other nonsense.
I like it because I'm not like everyone else. I'm not just another pretty thin chick; I'm the pretty fat chick.
I like being content with my body no matter how big, how strange and no matter what weird stuff it might do. Dear body, I've had my gallbladder removed for over a year now. Do you think you could stop with the gallbladder pain now? Sincerely, Me.
I am not just my body. I am not just fat or just blue eyed. I am complex and kooky and definitely cute. My body may be what you initially see but it's not entirely me. I have feelings, no way! and I have a pretty amazing and rather interesting -- strange -- brain. Just because these things are not outwardly visible doesn't mean they don't exist.
There's also one last thing I like about being fat. It's a little two sided and one side isn't so great, but the other side is phenomenal.
It may take me longer to find an outfit I like and feel comfortable in but when I do I absolutely nail it! I get more compliments on my great outfit and how fantastic I look than my conventionally beautiful -- thin -- friends. While I don't gloat or base my whole identity on looking better than my friends, the compliments sure help to make me feel validated, noticed and pretty.
Just to be clear the times I do get complimented more I always shift the focus to my friends as well because we are all beautiful.
So being fat isn't always hard nor is it always awful. There are times when people and events are so amazing I can completely forget I'm the fat chick and just enjoy myself being human.
Just remember: I am more than my body.
Just like other things in life it's never all bad nor all good. It is what it is and I grab hold of any good moments with a ferocity that startles -- okay scares the hell out of -- people.
You see being fat doesn't mean I have to hate myself, the world around me or even the people who would so readily judge me. I don't have to be anything nor do I have to act a certain way -- ashamed -- to appease the fat haters. I can be fat and simultaneously be happy, fun, cute, sweet, gorgeous and sexy! Le sexy purr.
Here's a little secret I've never told anyone: I actually like being fat. Gasp
I like it because I'm not pretending to be someone or something I'm not. I'm not a "skinny chick living in a fat chick's body" or some other nonsense.
I like it because I'm not like everyone else. I'm not just another pretty thin chick; I'm the pretty fat chick.
I like being content with my body no matter how big, how strange and no matter what weird stuff it might do. Dear body, I've had my gallbladder removed for over a year now. Do you think you could stop with the gallbladder pain now? Sincerely, Me.
I am not just my body. I am not just fat or just blue eyed. I am complex and kooky and definitely cute. My body may be what you initially see but it's not entirely me. I have feelings, no way! and I have a pretty amazing and rather interesting -- strange -- brain. Just because these things are not outwardly visible doesn't mean they don't exist.
There's also one last thing I like about being fat. It's a little two sided and one side isn't so great, but the other side is phenomenal.
It may take me longer to find an outfit I like and feel comfortable in but when I do I absolutely nail it! I get more compliments on my great outfit and how fantastic I look than my conventionally beautiful -- thin -- friends. While I don't gloat or base my whole identity on looking better than my friends, the compliments sure help to make me feel validated, noticed and pretty.
Just to be clear the times I do get complimented more I always shift the focus to my friends as well because we are all beautiful.
So being fat isn't always hard nor is it always awful. There are times when people and events are so amazing I can completely forget I'm the fat chick and just enjoy myself being human.
Just remember: I am more than my body.
Friday, May 6, 2011
The Assumptions of Trolls
One common assumption by trolls is that because I'm fat I must eat a lot and not exercise. I must also be lazy and smelly and unclean. Don'tcha know?
Oh how little you know me, ye of such overpowering knowledge that ye knowest all while us mere mortals do quiver in fear.
Puh-lease. These trolls know nothing about me or my lifestyle or my physical/mental health. They know nada. Nothing. Zip. And yet they will tell myself, and every other fat person they see, that they know why we are fat and how to fix it.
Apart from this being extraordinarily rude, condescending and just down right stupid it's also maddening. But I won't go into that right now, maybe another time when it bothers me slightly less and I can formulate a decent post that doesn't consist of volumes of swearing.
As I've said before, and so will say again, I can't talk for other people. I can only express my thoughts and how I live blah blah blah. So let me get a few things off my chest.
Firstly, I don't eat much at all. I still have friends who are stunned by how much less I eat than them. This isn't because I don't want to eat vast amounts when I'm with someone to try and hide my real eating habits. Whether I'm with someone or not I still don't eat much. Of course there are days -- usually relating to PMS -- when I'm ravenous and will want to eat everything I see, but I don't. The argument "you eat too much" is invalid here. Move on, there's nothing to see here.
Secondly, you may earn yourself a troll point because I don't exercise. Yeah, yeah I should blah blah blah. When you've figured out a way for me to exercise that doesn't result in my mood to fall below an acceptable level resulting in me attempting to commit suicide, then we'll talk. No, dear, I would not rather be dead than fat.
Thirdly, I'll admit I have lazy moments, but that does not make me lazy. How many times have you procrastinated because you were feeling lazy? How many times have you decided to stay home one weekend and lounge on the sofa in your tracky dacks? Oh, a few times you say!! Does that make you a lazy person or just a person who indulges in a few lazy moments? Just because I'm fat doesn't automatically mean I do nothing but laze around being fat and whining about it. Next bubble to burst please.
Now here's one of my favourites. I've read a tweet from a nurse -- whom I used to follow -- about how she hated assisting in surgery when it was a fat person. Apparently their rolls always stink. Insert eye rolling here. From recent commentary on #thingsfatpeoplearetold I noticed that she wasn't the only person in a medical field to say something so outrageously stupid. In fact there are non-medical related people who just assume that because we're fat we smell. Wrong.
Let's deal with the surgical dribble first. If you've had any kind of procedure you know that you're not allowed to wear deodorant, nail polish, use hair products etc. The list is pretty long if you actually read it and, of course, it depends what procedure you may have. So whether you're fat or thin, tall or short, male or female you're presenting yourself unadorned and without deodorant.
Now here's something amazing: people sweat. People sweat when they're scared too and guess what a lot of us tend to feel when we're waiting for the nurse to come and tell us they're ready for you!? We feel scared.
Some people sweat more than others regardless of weight. It's something about adrenal glands or some such -- if you really want to know google it -- and they're different in each of us. Now let's think about all this for a moment.
No one having surgery can wear deodorant or perfume before the surgery.
Everyone sweats and may feel nervous or scared pre-surgery.
Some people can sweat more than others regardless of weight.
This means -- omfg the world is at an end -- that everyone has a chance of smelling bad and not because they have rolls. Would you look at that. That's just too amazing to fathom.
Of course we're not always walking around about to go into surgery and there's still the misconception that fat people stink just because... well... they must?
A lot of the same rules apply here that did above. People of all sizes may sweat more than others, which is usually the cause of the "smell". There are some fat people who sweat very little and, as such, don't "smell" but are still told they smell. Seriously that's all you can think of? You can't even stop and think why you think that and on what grounds you base this thought on?
Of course in the real world we have deodorant. Some folks don't like it and that's their own personal choice. There are some -- myself included -- who are so paranoid of being told they "smell" they end up wearing more than is necessary. I even take my Impulse deodorant with me in my bag in the event I do end up sweating and can spray a quick burst while I'm alone in the toilets. Yes, I will always wait until I get a minute alone so I don't upset anyone who may not like the smell of my pretty and sweet spray. It's called being considerate, trolls you should try that some time.
So anyway, this is turning into such a long rant I'm actually getting angry just thinking about all the variations of the same arguments.
These basic and stupid ideas probably don't even deserve their own post, but I've been thinking about them for a while and decided even the smallest things should be addressed. Acceptance and change both start with rearranging the smallest thoughts, which lead to amending bigger thoughts.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Unhealthy Commercials
While watching a little bit of tv today -- a real rarity for me -- I saw the latest Yoplait Formé Satisfy commercial. Technically it's been on air for quite a while, but I usually tune out when commercials come on!
This commercial isn't actually insulting, at least not to me, but it does make me sad that it apparently supports women dieting or not eating enough sustenance.
If you'd like to view the commercial it can ber found here.
For those who don't wish to watch the commercial I'll give you a quick run down. It depicts an office environment of females who are either singly or in groups. They're all thin and all rather attractive women. It shows them sitting at their desks, meeting area and conference desk all looking glumly at various "healthy" foods they'd packed for their lunch -- it could be just snacks. Rice cakes, a single large lettuce leaf etc. In one scene there are three women sitting at what appears to be a conference table where a plate of chocolate biscuits is placed in front of them. Each of the women politely decline and one is tempted but thinks better of it.
I'm sure you get the idea.
Now, I'm not actually insulted by this commercial as I said, but I find it rather sad that such things are expected and even cherished ideals. To starve ones self is not healthy by any definition of the word. Yet here is this environment, which mimics reality, where people are so obsessed with being thin that they refuse to eat anything that might have an ounce of fat!!
Sorry but this is just wrong. This ideal to be skinny, to remain skinny, is absurd.
In fact there is so much wrong with this cultural view I can't even put it all into words.
It's teaching young women -- all women -- that being thin is more desirable than even eating a proper healthy lunch/snack. This baffles my mind.
Now I realise that people probably don't pay that much attention to commercials nor are there a lot of people watching the commercial during midday viewing. However, the message is still clear and, in my opinion, is extremely unhealthy.
I also realise that Yoplait are just trying to sell their product -- in this case yogurt -- and so they'll try to appeal to their target demographic. This doesn't make it right nor does it promote positive body image to any demographic.
There are probably thousands of blogs talking about media advertising and such, but I just wanted to share my view of something that really unsettled me. As I said it's not so much insulting as it is unhealthy. I sincerely hope that the FA movement will -- one day -- be able to stop such unhealthy commercials and the unhealthy and unrealistic portrayal of women.
This commercial isn't actually insulting, at least not to me, but it does make me sad that it apparently supports women dieting or not eating enough sustenance.
If you'd like to view the commercial it can ber found here.
For those who don't wish to watch the commercial I'll give you a quick run down. It depicts an office environment of females who are either singly or in groups. They're all thin and all rather attractive women. It shows them sitting at their desks, meeting area and conference desk all looking glumly at various "healthy" foods they'd packed for their lunch -- it could be just snacks. Rice cakes, a single large lettuce leaf etc. In one scene there are three women sitting at what appears to be a conference table where a plate of chocolate biscuits is placed in front of them. Each of the women politely decline and one is tempted but thinks better of it.
I'm sure you get the idea.
Now, I'm not actually insulted by this commercial as I said, but I find it rather sad that such things are expected and even cherished ideals. To starve ones self is not healthy by any definition of the word. Yet here is this environment, which mimics reality, where people are so obsessed with being thin that they refuse to eat anything that might have an ounce of fat!!
Sorry but this is just wrong. This ideal to be skinny, to remain skinny, is absurd.
In fact there is so much wrong with this cultural view I can't even put it all into words.
It's teaching young women -- all women -- that being thin is more desirable than even eating a proper healthy lunch/snack. This baffles my mind.
Now I realise that people probably don't pay that much attention to commercials nor are there a lot of people watching the commercial during midday viewing. However, the message is still clear and, in my opinion, is extremely unhealthy.
I also realise that Yoplait are just trying to sell their product -- in this case yogurt -- and so they'll try to appeal to their target demographic. This doesn't make it right nor does it promote positive body image to any demographic.
There are probably thousands of blogs talking about media advertising and such, but I just wanted to share my view of something that really unsettled me. As I said it's not so much insulting as it is unhealthy. I sincerely hope that the FA movement will -- one day -- be able to stop such unhealthy commercials and the unhealthy and unrealistic portrayal of women.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Noteworthy Finds - Two: Dr Samantha Thomas
Like many of us fatties we've heard of Dr Samantha Thomas. If you haven't now would be a good time to get introduced to her!
I won't go into a long post about how much she rocks or just how fantastic, supportive and wonderful she is. I'm sure you'll see that when you read this article.
Chewing the fat over the reality of obesity
If I were to give articles a star rating this one would be 5/5. In my humble opinion of course.
I won't go into a long post about how much she rocks or just how fantastic, supportive and wonderful she is. I'm sure you'll see that when you read this article.
Chewing the fat over the reality of obesity
If I were to give articles a star rating this one would be 5/5. In my humble opinion of course.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Noteworthy Finds - One
I've decided to start a series of posts of notable, lovely, positive blog posts and/or articles. Don't worry, they won't be all the time but will crop up from time to time. I'll even label these posts so you can see all of them! I know right, it's so very exciting!!
I won't actually go through and dissect the entire articles/posts but I'll give a very brief summary so if it looks interesting to you -- and you don't follow my twitter feed -- you can just click the links and go read some wonderful writing.
Without rambling on about it here is my first offering:
"Aren't you worried about your health?"
Cosmo finally learns about HAES in a well polished, well thought out and well written article.
If you're not entirely sure what HAES (health at every size) is then this is a great introduction.
Also, if you're new to body positivity and Fat Acceptance this is a fantastic beginning.
My praise for this piece is epic.
I won't actually go through and dissect the entire articles/posts but I'll give a very brief summary so if it looks interesting to you -- and you don't follow my twitter feed -- you can just click the links and go read some wonderful writing.
Without rambling on about it here is my first offering:
"Aren't you worried about your health?"
Cosmo finally learns about HAES in a well polished, well thought out and well written article.
If you're not entirely sure what HAES (health at every size) is then this is a great introduction.
Also, if you're new to body positivity and Fat Acceptance this is a fantastic beginning.
My praise for this piece is epic.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Lack of a Role Model
Reading through that old post I wrote and republished has me thinking about delving deeper into why my choice of teenage magazine material truly affected me.
Sure there were the ultra-thin, airbrushed girls in the most up-to-date fashions with the beautifully applied make-up and meticulously placed hair who looked great even in the most awkward looking positions. And of course there were the chisel ab-ed hunks with their shirts off and oiled torso's looking like modern Greek Adonis' who I'd secretly think were gorgeous but would flick the page nonchalantly so no one would dare say "as if you'd ever be with someone that hot!"
Not to mention the fashion and The Best places to buy the Hottest outfits were all only up to a size 16. And on the rare occasion the magazines decided to briefly mention "Plus Size" they focussed solely on size 16's as if there couldn't possibly be a bigger size than that. In the end I would cry and vow to stop eating because this time it just had to work.
Thus I banned myself from reading magazine's or even looking at the pretty pictures. Banned for life, bitch.
But what was really making me so upset wasn't that everyone else appeared so happy and thin and beautiful and in love -- because all those gorgeous women were inevitably always paired with those oiled Adonis' -- but the mere fact that I wasn't good enough. I felt completely alone because I didn't know anyone my age that was also my size. I didn't have the internet back then so I didn't have access to online forums or chat rooms or websites where I wasn't the only fatty.
All my friends would rave about how wonderful the new issue of Girlfriend was and giggle about the seemingly sexy tales in Cosmo -- we never seemed to see the Cosmo sex lift-out thingy issues -- or comparing which shops they got nearly matching items from, while I sat in the corner nodding and smiling for all I was worth. My size and even my shape were not accommodated. I had no "role model" to look up to, no one that was a real shape or a real size that wasn't made smaller by the numerous tricks one can perform in Photoshop. In fact across the board of famous females there was not one I could identify with in regards to body image. I was standing alone on the precipice of an ever increasing gap between me and everyone else.
Of course this might not sound like much to you, to any of you, but for me it was lonely. That feeling of "standing in a room full of people but you're totally alone" summed up my life exactly. I had friends, a lot of them in fact and I was always there to listen when anyone needed to talk. There were even times I attempted to hide from people because they seemed to always want to talk with me! I did carve myself a niche and one that suited me extremely well for my high school years in Canberra. But I did that of my own volition and out of a desperate need of survival. I had to be that person because I saw early on that was the only person they (the student body) would accept and, maybe, respect.
Indeed I did survive without a role model and without models in magazines, tv stars or musical divas who looked anything like me. However it bloody well hurt to feel so alone, feeling like a freak and an abomination. In many ways -- and not solely because of this -- I had to grow up faster than my peers. I had to perceive things they did not have to and I had to be mindful of my place lest I stepped out of line. It was appropriate for me to be ashamed of myself and to apologise for my size. It was expected that I would be humble and sweet, occasionally depressed because I was fat but never, never, allowed to talk about it. If I did express joy or was genuinely happy someone would always come along and make sure my knees were cut out from under me. The message was clear: follow our rules or don't belong with us.
The need for a role model of achievable proportions is huge. At the time I didn't understand this simple concept and I couldn't understand why I was beginning to resent everything that symbolised "thin", "healthy", "perfect" and "beautiful". My resentment boiled over into silent rebellion and the choice to rebel against school policy and wear all black. I could go on about how this was some symbolic form of the death of my voice, the oppression, conformity etc but the truth was I felt safer wearing black. I was less noticeable and I looked smaller. Apparently even my teachers agreed because I was never asked to revert back to colour code (blue and white) like the rest of the kids were. Again, I was completely alone.
There is a real need for people of all sizes and shapes to be seen in positive body image projects. Whether these projects are workshops or seminars abolishing fat-phobia or seeing real people on the big screen to seeing real people in a band live on stage or just watching that beautiful fat lady walk down the street confidently without one nasty comment muttered. It's not just the teenagers of this world who want to see famous people who look like them in the public eye! It's about time real changes were made in this overly biased world.
Sure there were the ultra-thin, airbrushed girls in the most up-to-date fashions with the beautifully applied make-up and meticulously placed hair who looked great even in the most awkward looking positions. And of course there were the chisel ab-ed hunks with their shirts off and oiled torso's looking like modern Greek Adonis' who I'd secretly think were gorgeous but would flick the page nonchalantly so no one would dare say "as if you'd ever be with someone that hot!"
Not to mention the fashion and The Best places to buy the Hottest outfits were all only up to a size 16. And on the rare occasion the magazines decided to briefly mention "Plus Size" they focussed solely on size 16's as if there couldn't possibly be a bigger size than that. In the end I would cry and vow to stop eating because this time it just had to work.
Thus I banned myself from reading magazine's or even looking at the pretty pictures. Banned for life, bitch.
But what was really making me so upset wasn't that everyone else appeared so happy and thin and beautiful and in love -- because all those gorgeous women were inevitably always paired with those oiled Adonis' -- but the mere fact that I wasn't good enough. I felt completely alone because I didn't know anyone my age that was also my size. I didn't have the internet back then so I didn't have access to online forums or chat rooms or websites where I wasn't the only fatty.
All my friends would rave about how wonderful the new issue of Girlfriend was and giggle about the seemingly sexy tales in Cosmo -- we never seemed to see the Cosmo sex lift-out thingy issues -- or comparing which shops they got nearly matching items from, while I sat in the corner nodding and smiling for all I was worth. My size and even my shape were not accommodated. I had no "role model" to look up to, no one that was a real shape or a real size that wasn't made smaller by the numerous tricks one can perform in Photoshop. In fact across the board of famous females there was not one I could identify with in regards to body image. I was standing alone on the precipice of an ever increasing gap between me and everyone else.
Of course this might not sound like much to you, to any of you, but for me it was lonely. That feeling of "standing in a room full of people but you're totally alone" summed up my life exactly. I had friends, a lot of them in fact and I was always there to listen when anyone needed to talk. There were even times I attempted to hide from people because they seemed to always want to talk with me! I did carve myself a niche and one that suited me extremely well for my high school years in Canberra. But I did that of my own volition and out of a desperate need of survival. I had to be that person because I saw early on that was the only person they (the student body) would accept and, maybe, respect.
Indeed I did survive without a role model and without models in magazines, tv stars or musical divas who looked anything like me. However it bloody well hurt to feel so alone, feeling like a freak and an abomination. In many ways -- and not solely because of this -- I had to grow up faster than my peers. I had to perceive things they did not have to and I had to be mindful of my place lest I stepped out of line. It was appropriate for me to be ashamed of myself and to apologise for my size. It was expected that I would be humble and sweet, occasionally depressed because I was fat but never, never, allowed to talk about it. If I did express joy or was genuinely happy someone would always come along and make sure my knees were cut out from under me. The message was clear: follow our rules or don't belong with us.
The need for a role model of achievable proportions is huge. At the time I didn't understand this simple concept and I couldn't understand why I was beginning to resent everything that symbolised "thin", "healthy", "perfect" and "beautiful". My resentment boiled over into silent rebellion and the choice to rebel against school policy and wear all black. I could go on about how this was some symbolic form of the death of my voice, the oppression, conformity etc but the truth was I felt safer wearing black. I was less noticeable and I looked smaller. Apparently even my teachers agreed because I was never asked to revert back to colour code (blue and white) like the rest of the kids were. Again, I was completely alone.
There is a real need for people of all sizes and shapes to be seen in positive body image projects. Whether these projects are workshops or seminars abolishing fat-phobia or seeing real people on the big screen to seeing real people in a band live on stage or just watching that beautiful fat lady walk down the street confidently without one nasty comment muttered. It's not just the teenagers of this world who want to see famous people who look like them in the public eye! It's about time real changes were made in this overly biased world.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Magazines, Me and Fair Trade Cotton
This post was taken from my original blog and as I read through it I realised it is still valid. I feel that it has a place here on my FA blog so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did discovering it again! Oh, before I forget I did edit the post a little bit.
I've been looking at an online magazine which has raised many, many, of my old distressing observations of the ostracism experienced by those of us who are not "traditionally" pretty.
Part of a teenage girls mandatory rights of passage -- during my teen years -- was fawning over popular magazines such as Girlfriend, Cosmo and Sane (the free magazine one could acquire from the music shop "Sanity").
These magazines lacked the substance I needed to really be interested. What they didn't lack was the lashings of self loathing I was required to feel due to my body being bigger and of a different shape to the, very nearly, skeletal images of young women models.
Then, in an almost negligent way, the next two pages would be attributed to "exercises" that would tone and reduce the fat clumping around problem areas; arms and butt.
It was fundamental in my development for me to realise that I would never be anything like those skinny, wear-anything-they-want-and-look-great models. Despite a rational realisation of this I still spent many -- okay every day and night -- thinking about how horrible and disgusting I was because I couldn't wear anything even remotely fashionable.
Now, by the time I reached 16 (coincidentally that happened to be when I was in year 10) I had stopped looking at magazines because the depression and anger that would consume me, because of my self loathing, was uncontrollable.
It comes as a great shock that ten years later I would look at a magazine, even if it was a new online one. Part of me was curious to see if magazines had indeed evolved during my ten year separation or if they had remained frozen in time.
Turns out, they remained frozen.
There was one particular article written by their resident "Green Geek" which spoke about cotton awareness and fashion places who are supporting the fair trading of cotton in third world countries. This is all very good and I'm truly amazed to read that, at least, some things are improving, albeit slowly. The not so amazing part is that only small or "standard" sizes are available at these fair trading shops. Now, if I could just step out of my fat suit I could partake in the tremendously good appropriation of these amazing cotton garments! Where was that damn zip located again?
For those of us who are not "traditionally" pretty, who are curvy, rolly, rotund, flabby and squishy we must continue to be ignorant of the advancement in the fair trading of cotton. We, apparently, are not worthy of helping and supporting this organisation. And neither is our money good enough to be placed with those of "traditional" beauty.
No, we must continue to buy our frightfully ugly, misshapen and, quite frankly, frumpy clothes from stores that do not support the fair trading of cotton, thus preventing us from helping cotton farmers in third world countries.
How delightful that we should miss out.
Of course we could potentially donate money to the cause to all participate in our own way. However, and this is only my view, isn't it backwards to donate money instead of purchasing the items made with this fair trade cotton? Isn't the whole point of these shops and foundations and organisations to make the whole market aware of, and comply with, the fair trading of products, in this case cotton?
Truly, I must be crazy to assume there is a real and genuine care for those in need. How remarkably silly of me!
There is of course one blatant fact that I have neglected to mention here. The clothing industry, media industry and fat haters will never change. Thin and beautiful -- thank you airbrushing -- men and women sell those newspapers, cd's, tv shows, magazines and the other array of socially acceptable paraphernalia.
Personally, I look forward to a time when anyone of any shape or size can be included without ridicule. Tell her she's dreamin'!
I've been looking at an online magazine which has raised many, many, of my old distressing observations of the ostracism experienced by those of us who are not "traditionally" pretty.
Part of a teenage girls mandatory rights of passage -- during my teen years -- was fawning over popular magazines such as Girlfriend, Cosmo and Sane (the free magazine one could acquire from the music shop "Sanity").
These magazines lacked the substance I needed to really be interested. What they didn't lack was the lashings of self loathing I was required to feel due to my body being bigger and of a different shape to the, very nearly, skeletal images of young women models.
Then, in an almost negligent way, the next two pages would be attributed to "exercises" that would tone and reduce the fat clumping around problem areas; arms and butt.
It was fundamental in my development for me to realise that I would never be anything like those skinny, wear-anything-they-want-and-look-great models. Despite a rational realisation of this I still spent many -- okay every day and night -- thinking about how horrible and disgusting I was because I couldn't wear anything even remotely fashionable.
Now, by the time I reached 16 (coincidentally that happened to be when I was in year 10) I had stopped looking at magazines because the depression and anger that would consume me, because of my self loathing, was uncontrollable.
It comes as a great shock that ten years later I would look at a magazine, even if it was a new online one. Part of me was curious to see if magazines had indeed evolved during my ten year separation or if they had remained frozen in time.
Turns out, they remained frozen.
There was one particular article written by their resident "Green Geek" which spoke about cotton awareness and fashion places who are supporting the fair trading of cotton in third world countries. This is all very good and I'm truly amazed to read that, at least, some things are improving, albeit slowly. The not so amazing part is that only small or "standard" sizes are available at these fair trading shops. Now, if I could just step out of my fat suit I could partake in the tremendously good appropriation of these amazing cotton garments! Where was that damn zip located again?
For those of us who are not "traditionally" pretty, who are curvy, rolly, rotund, flabby and squishy we must continue to be ignorant of the advancement in the fair trading of cotton. We, apparently, are not worthy of helping and supporting this organisation. And neither is our money good enough to be placed with those of "traditional" beauty.
No, we must continue to buy our frightfully ugly, misshapen and, quite frankly, frumpy clothes from stores that do not support the fair trading of cotton, thus preventing us from helping cotton farmers in third world countries.
How delightful that we should miss out.
Of course we could potentially donate money to the cause to all participate in our own way. However, and this is only my view, isn't it backwards to donate money instead of purchasing the items made with this fair trade cotton? Isn't the whole point of these shops and foundations and organisations to make the whole market aware of, and comply with, the fair trading of products, in this case cotton?
Truly, I must be crazy to assume there is a real and genuine care for those in need. How remarkably silly of me!
There is of course one blatant fact that I have neglected to mention here. The clothing industry, media industry and fat haters will never change. Thin and beautiful -- thank you airbrushing -- men and women sell those newspapers, cd's, tv shows, magazines and the other array of socially acceptable paraphernalia.
Personally, I look forward to a time when anyone of any shape or size can be included without ridicule. Tell her she's dreamin'!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
The Unreality
There's the real world and then there's the world I create in my dreams. The latter is far more preferable to me.
You see, in my world people are kind and they truly care about each other. In my world people aren't bullied or discriminated because they are different. Things like religion, weight, height, skin colour, ethnicity, illness (physical or mental), sexual orientation or whether I prefer cats to dogs means absolutely nothing. It's neither good nor bad, it's just the way it is. In my world people don't know how to be rude and the varying differences of opinions don't cause hatred but mutual respect.
Of course it's impossible to live in such a fantasy. The real world can be cruel and the people in it aren't always understanding, compassionate or empathic.
Today I've been catching up on all the articles and blogs that I haven't had time to read. Of course I focus more on Fat Acceptance and mental health related materials because those are the areas that affect me the most.
After reading so many wonderful blogs breaking down the misconceptions and hatred of fat people I was buoyed to a point of - almost - glee. I wanted to leap in the air and shout "YES!" and giggle at the absurdity of my juvenile reaction. Just as I was about to leap joyfully from my bed I caught a glimpse at some comments left by people who can be termed "trolls".
Immediate death of leaping and juvenile giggling ensued.
It struck me that these people, who are trying to argue that fat is unhealthy, that we're a drain on the medical system or - and this was perhaps my favourite - we eat enough for 15 people while others are starving to death, these people use unsubstantiated myths and label them as "fact". Of course this has been noted and discussed on many Fat Acceptance blogs so I won't harp on about it. I was merely struck by the absurdity of it all.
It seems that I'm not the only one who prefers to dally in a fantasy world. While that's comforting - I'm not nearly as crazy as I thought - it's also disheartening as my fantasy world is all about acceptance, while theirs appear to be based on hatred.
Maybe I'm too sensitive and far too susceptible to negative opinions. Then again, maybe not. It's not necessarily unrealistic to want to live in an accepting world, although it's perhaps a little naive.
Right now I think I'd rather spend more time in the unreality, even if it means I'm labelled - yet again - crazy.
You see, in my world people are kind and they truly care about each other. In my world people aren't bullied or discriminated because they are different. Things like religion, weight, height, skin colour, ethnicity, illness (physical or mental), sexual orientation or whether I prefer cats to dogs means absolutely nothing. It's neither good nor bad, it's just the way it is. In my world people don't know how to be rude and the varying differences of opinions don't cause hatred but mutual respect.
Of course it's impossible to live in such a fantasy. The real world can be cruel and the people in it aren't always understanding, compassionate or empathic.
Today I've been catching up on all the articles and blogs that I haven't had time to read. Of course I focus more on Fat Acceptance and mental health related materials because those are the areas that affect me the most.
After reading so many wonderful blogs breaking down the misconceptions and hatred of fat people I was buoyed to a point of - almost - glee. I wanted to leap in the air and shout "YES!" and giggle at the absurdity of my juvenile reaction. Just as I was about to leap joyfully from my bed I caught a glimpse at some comments left by people who can be termed "trolls".
Immediate death of leaping and juvenile giggling ensued.
It struck me that these people, who are trying to argue that fat is unhealthy, that we're a drain on the medical system or - and this was perhaps my favourite - we eat enough for 15 people while others are starving to death, these people use unsubstantiated myths and label them as "fact". Of course this has been noted and discussed on many Fat Acceptance blogs so I won't harp on about it. I was merely struck by the absurdity of it all.
It seems that I'm not the only one who prefers to dally in a fantasy world. While that's comforting - I'm not nearly as crazy as I thought - it's also disheartening as my fantasy world is all about acceptance, while theirs appear to be based on hatred.
Maybe I'm too sensitive and far too susceptible to negative opinions. Then again, maybe not. It's not necessarily unrealistic to want to live in an accepting world, although it's perhaps a little naive.
Right now I think I'd rather spend more time in the unreality, even if it means I'm labelled - yet again - crazy.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
A Question of Validity
Today the beautiful @RobinRaven tweeted this:
Firstly, I'm not about to start hating anyone or suggesting that anyone is wrong.
Secondly, it brought up a very interesting discussion about the differences in our experiences, interactions and how some thoughtless words can affect the validity of those feelings and experiences.
I'm not about to suggest that the three responses Robin received were wrong. For those three people their responses were completely legitimate representations of how they feel. I completely understand that it's hard for people of other sizes too.
The people who are labelled "underweight" get just as many taunts and prejudiced comments as fat people do. The comments aren't about eating less but, of course, the opposite. They get called "bean pole", "anorexic", "unhealthy", "stick figure", "skinny" and worse. No matter what the insult or what end of this spectrum we're on it damn well hurts. So I do understand how hard this is.
Then there are people who are labelled "healthy" and/or "normal" who also get their share of comments. There is also pressure for them to remain thin, remain healthy and remain active. This "group" of people also experience the same pressure the rest of us do when we're bombarded with "perfect" images in the media, pushed by the beauty industry, health industry, government and even medical officials. These people have also been told to lose a few extra kilos to be "healthier". So, yes, I understand that it's unfair and hard and that they don't really like it.
The crux here is that by saying "it's harder for me than it is for you" you're essentially invalidating another person's thoughts and feelings. How do we really gauge just what is unbearably hard for each person? Are you able to enter that person's mind and access their experiences to make this assumption that you have it harder than they do?
The point is, what is awful for one person may not even be a blip on the radar of another person. That's when empathy and, lacking that, sympathy come into play. We empathise with someone if we've had a similar experience - in fact I'm surprised those three commenters didn't empathise - and when we can't empathise we sympathise. Being able to imagine how we might feel in that person's shoes is a powerful tool and I think more people should try it instead of preaching "fat is bad", "BMI is accurate" and other such rubbish.
But I digress.
There's another factor that can add more complexity to someone's thoughts and feelings on this particular subject. The sheer volume of discrimination, bullying and prejudice. Those of us on either end of the spectrum do experience more in this way, whether or not is affects us more is entirely up to the individual. This doesn't mean that more volume equals more important feelings and experiences. It means there's more to deal with, that's it.
In my experience I feel everything more keenly and thus the volume of fat hatred and those fat hating people in my life dig a very deep emotional pit. The hurt is very real and very personal. So on one level the hurt that I feel is Earth-shatteringly real and possibly the worst thing in the world for me. On another level I know that others do not share this feeling and some can't understand why it hurts me so much.
Everyone will experience horrible events and situations in their lives. Some will experience more and some will experience horror beyond imagining. But for each person the potential is there for the event they are facing to be the worst thing to happen to them.
RobinRaven RobinRaven
@FatChickSpeaks Same to you. Did you know I posted about the hashtag thing on FB + got 3 responses on how being thin is tougher. Oh. Ok. LOL
Firstly, I'm not about to start hating anyone or suggesting that anyone is wrong.
Secondly, it brought up a very interesting discussion about the differences in our experiences, interactions and how some thoughtless words can affect the validity of those feelings and experiences.
I'm not about to suggest that the three responses Robin received were wrong. For those three people their responses were completely legitimate representations of how they feel. I completely understand that it's hard for people of other sizes too.
The people who are labelled "underweight" get just as many taunts and prejudiced comments as fat people do. The comments aren't about eating less but, of course, the opposite. They get called "bean pole", "anorexic", "unhealthy", "stick figure", "skinny" and worse. No matter what the insult or what end of this spectrum we're on it damn well hurts. So I do understand how hard this is.
Then there are people who are labelled "healthy" and/or "normal" who also get their share of comments. There is also pressure for them to remain thin, remain healthy and remain active. This "group" of people also experience the same pressure the rest of us do when we're bombarded with "perfect" images in the media, pushed by the beauty industry, health industry, government and even medical officials. These people have also been told to lose a few extra kilos to be "healthier". So, yes, I understand that it's unfair and hard and that they don't really like it.
The crux here is that by saying "it's harder for me than it is for you" you're essentially invalidating another person's thoughts and feelings. How do we really gauge just what is unbearably hard for each person? Are you able to enter that person's mind and access their experiences to make this assumption that you have it harder than they do?
The point is, what is awful for one person may not even be a blip on the radar of another person. That's when empathy and, lacking that, sympathy come into play. We empathise with someone if we've had a similar experience - in fact I'm surprised those three commenters didn't empathise - and when we can't empathise we sympathise. Being able to imagine how we might feel in that person's shoes is a powerful tool and I think more people should try it instead of preaching "fat is bad", "BMI is accurate" and other such rubbish.
But I digress.
There's another factor that can add more complexity to someone's thoughts and feelings on this particular subject. The sheer volume of discrimination, bullying and prejudice. Those of us on either end of the spectrum do experience more in this way, whether or not is affects us more is entirely up to the individual. This doesn't mean that more volume equals more important feelings and experiences. It means there's more to deal with, that's it.
In my experience I feel everything more keenly and thus the volume of fat hatred and those fat hating people in my life dig a very deep emotional pit. The hurt is very real and very personal. So on one level the hurt that I feel is Earth-shatteringly real and possibly the worst thing in the world for me. On another level I know that others do not share this feeling and some can't understand why it hurts me so much.
Everyone will experience horrible events and situations in their lives. Some will experience more and some will experience horror beyond imagining. But for each person the potential is there for the event they are facing to be the worst thing to happen to them.
Accepting The Fat
As a twenty-something fat woman living in this, sometimes cruel, world I have found it rather hard to transition into the realm of accepting my body for the amazing vessel it is.
Instead of being thankful that I can walk, see, hear, talk, feel, smell and everything else my body can do, I have spent my life hating it because I was told, repeatedly, that it's ugly, fat and disgusting. Of course, it didn't take long for me to begin believing these comments and adding them to my own internal dialogue of why I'm not good enough.
At first I was confused by those nasty comments because a 5 year old doesn't really understand these things. Yes, you read that correctly, the nastiness started (at least outside of home) when I was five. The kicker? It was my teacher who started it off.
In fact over the years it has always been the adults in my life that have begun the fat hating dialogue. In grade six I was actually detained during recesses because I refused to run around the school during the morning runs. When I explained that I didn't adequately know how - I have this strange compulsion to hold my breath when I run - I was laughed at and had another five minutes added to my "detention". Needless to say this began the Age of Acute Anxiety and resulted in increased migraines. Good times man, good times.
I'll spare you the rest of my experiences as I'm sure you get the idea.
The people who should have been supporting me, comforting me and encouraging me to be myself were lost somewhere in the wake of fat hate. The voices that were loudest and most repetitive had centre stage and they did so for a very, very long time.
I became introverted, shy and always the first to apologise. I learnt how to minimise my presence and effectively render myself invisible. My self esteem and self confidence were never developed and I hid behind the wall of silence that so many fat kids (and adults) hide behind.
The rhetoric became so ingrained I started to think it about other people. I would think - never speak - the awful thoughts about others and with that came a double stab to my fragile esteem. How could I, someone who knows how it feels to be bullied, think that awful shit about another person?
This cemented the idea that I was nothing more than an ugly, fat monster.
I held that dark little secret close lest anyone wrest it from me and expose me as the fat fraud that I really was.
Many, many years later after one particularly bad hospital admission I was surfing the internet. I was feeling disgusting and fat and monstrous and typed "fat chicks" into google. Lo and behold it brought up this thing called Fat Acceptance. My eyes very nearly popped out of my head. I laughed at first because I thought it was a joke, someone trying to build up fat people's self esteem only to set them up for that moment when of being drenched in pig's blood while wearing the beautiful prom dress you made by hand. Unlike Carrie, I wouldn't have telekinetic powers to unleash my vicious wrath.
Telling myself that even if it was a joke it wouldn't matter because I'm a monster, I clicked on the link. What I found was a blog appropriately named Big Fat Blog and my cynical laughter abruptly stopped. These were real people with real stories and who were really fat. I must be freaking dreaming!
I joined up and haven't looked back. But it's taken well over a year to even begin to accept myself in a peripheral sense. I know that I'm fat and I don't apologise for that any more nor am I ashamed of myself, but I still think awful thoughts about myself and I still lack any form of confidence. No one said it would be easy!
A year and a bit later the #thingsfatpeoplearetold hash tag surfaced, again, on twitter and I found another group of wonderfully real people that I could connect with. Le freaking woot!! I love you guys!!
So I may not be an awesomely confident fat activist, or even a confident fatty, but I'm still a voice to be reckoned with. No one has the authority to abuse me anymore. No one has the right to tell me things about my body. It is my body and I'm damn proud that it works!
Take your fat hate elsewhere.
Instead of being thankful that I can walk, see, hear, talk, feel, smell and everything else my body can do, I have spent my life hating it because I was told, repeatedly, that it's ugly, fat and disgusting. Of course, it didn't take long for me to begin believing these comments and adding them to my own internal dialogue of why I'm not good enough.
At first I was confused by those nasty comments because a 5 year old doesn't really understand these things. Yes, you read that correctly, the nastiness started (at least outside of home) when I was five. The kicker? It was my teacher who started it off.
In fact over the years it has always been the adults in my life that have begun the fat hating dialogue. In grade six I was actually detained during recesses because I refused to run around the school during the morning runs. When I explained that I didn't adequately know how - I have this strange compulsion to hold my breath when I run - I was laughed at and had another five minutes added to my "detention". Needless to say this began the Age of Acute Anxiety and resulted in increased migraines. Good times man, good times.
I'll spare you the rest of my experiences as I'm sure you get the idea.
The people who should have been supporting me, comforting me and encouraging me to be myself were lost somewhere in the wake of fat hate. The voices that were loudest and most repetitive had centre stage and they did so for a very, very long time.
I became introverted, shy and always the first to apologise. I learnt how to minimise my presence and effectively render myself invisible. My self esteem and self confidence were never developed and I hid behind the wall of silence that so many fat kids (and adults) hide behind.
The rhetoric became so ingrained I started to think it about other people. I would think - never speak - the awful thoughts about others and with that came a double stab to my fragile esteem. How could I, someone who knows how it feels to be bullied, think that awful shit about another person?
This cemented the idea that I was nothing more than an ugly, fat monster.
I held that dark little secret close lest anyone wrest it from me and expose me as the fat fraud that I really was.
Many, many years later after one particularly bad hospital admission I was surfing the internet. I was feeling disgusting and fat and monstrous and typed "fat chicks" into google. Lo and behold it brought up this thing called Fat Acceptance. My eyes very nearly popped out of my head. I laughed at first because I thought it was a joke, someone trying to build up fat people's self esteem only to set them up for that moment when of being drenched in pig's blood while wearing the beautiful prom dress you made by hand. Unlike Carrie, I wouldn't have telekinetic powers to unleash my vicious wrath.
Telling myself that even if it was a joke it wouldn't matter because I'm a monster, I clicked on the link. What I found was a blog appropriately named Big Fat Blog and my cynical laughter abruptly stopped. These were real people with real stories and who were really fat. I must be freaking dreaming!
I joined up and haven't looked back. But it's taken well over a year to even begin to accept myself in a peripheral sense. I know that I'm fat and I don't apologise for that any more nor am I ashamed of myself, but I still think awful thoughts about myself and I still lack any form of confidence. No one said it would be easy!
A year and a bit later the #thingsfatpeoplearetold hash tag surfaced, again, on twitter and I found another group of wonderfully real people that I could connect with. Le freaking woot!! I love you guys!!
So I may not be an awesomely confident fat activist, or even a confident fatty, but I'm still a voice to be reckoned with. No one has the authority to abuse me anymore. No one has the right to tell me things about my body. It is my body and I'm damn proud that it works!
Take your fat hate elsewhere.
Monday, April 18, 2011
A Day In The Life Of A Fat Chick
This is a reasonably accurate account of a day in my life. On this particular day I'm actually going out in public. It's not overly exciting but I advise caution as you watch for the potentially embarrassing moments.
Wake up. Yes, we do that too. No, you don't have the monopoly on sleeping, sorry for that brutal brush with reality.
Fifteen minutes after waking, slide out of bed and clutch head simply because it's morning and the light hurts my fragile eyes.
Shuffle to the toilet. Shuffle into the bathroom and shower. Yes, I do take my pj's off before I shower just like you do.
Spring out of the shower, awake, beautiful and ready to spend the next 30 minutes deciding what the hell hides most of my flab.
Sit on my bed for 30 in my towel deciding what to wear.
30 minutes later....
Finally decided, dress and then apply small amount of make up. Blow dry hair.
Change outfit to less flabby revealing clothes.
Let everyone know that I am now beautiful and ready to go. Oh, just one more application of lipgloss.
Change outfit back to first choice. Yes, feel much better now.
Leave the house.
Go to public place, usually a shopping centre (Civic for those in Canberra).
Quickly check that outfit is still in place - not too much cleavage, top pulled down over my arse, pant legs aren't crooked or somehow folded up. Good, all good.
Get out of car and walk around.
Standing on the escalator and some guy stares at me. I'd like to think he's staring at me because he thinks I'm so adorable and gorgeous and he must have me right then and there, but the sneer of disgust smeared across his face tells me otherwise.
Step off escalator and dodge crowd so they can't accuse me of not watching where I'm going.
Set determined look and proceed to walk purposefully to City Chic.
Avoid looking at all those sneers of contempt and repulsion. Just avoid it. No, don't look! Oh, too late, saw the group of people standing in the middle of the thoroughfare, all looking at me. Some sneer, some laugh outright, some just point horrified that I exist.
Spy City Chic, almost there.
People walking past make comments to each other, "wow she's fat. She should really lose weight if she wants to live much longer", pretend not to listen and just keep walking purposefully.
Practically run the remainder of the way to City Chic. But don't actually run because that would attract more vitriole and, anyway, jiggly bits will definitely jiggle too much while running.
Step into City Chic store.
Safe.
Or not.
Sales assistant approaches, all smiles and light while looking at me from head to toe. Some distain as masking attempt fails. Le sigh. Here we go again.
"Just looking thanks", please avoid talking to me any further as I've just endured almost as much as I can take. Kthanxbai.
Try on some stuff.
Figure out the sizes are getting smaller as, no, I haven't put on any more weight and anyway half my clothes are feeling a little loose lately.
Le sigh.
Look at the price of something particularly nice and of the right size. Wow, that much for this?
Put the item back.
Prepare to leave store, smile kindly to the sales assistant and notice her returning smile is now radiant. Is that because I'm leaving her store?
Step out of store and eyes are immediately drawn to another scowl of disapproval, hatred, disgust. Avert eyes.
Wonder why shoes are suddenly so loose, look down and realise the laces have come undone. Bugger. Look around and realise that if I bend over to tie them more comments and looks will ensue. Decide it's best to leave shoes untied and keep walking.
Look at art supplies, books and techie stuff. People still commenting, sneering and laughing.
Sudden cramping in stomach, gasping for breath. Anxiety hits. Scamper to bathroom to sit and breathe and hide from the looks. Tie shoes while in there.
Return from bathroom, advise company it's time I leave, feigning illness. Although illness isn't completely feigned it's not as bad as I make it out to be.
Resolutely start back towards the car. Avoid looking at that person staring. Avoid listening to that couple talk and point at me while they walk past. Avoid looking down - I will not give them that satisfaction.
Stand on escalator again, will myself to be smaller - take up less room - woman pushes past and mumbles "move over fat bitch", while she power walks up the thing. Didn't she read the "do not walk on escalator while it's moving" sticker? I know it's always on the base of the escalator and it's very small, but it clearly says remain stationary. Oh well, I might be fat but it appears my eyesight is better than hers. Smile smugly.
Make it the car. Collapse into the front seat, holding back tears. They have not defeated me... Well...
Travel home.
Walk in the door and walk back to my room, get changed into comfy pj's and watch some Mighty Boosh or IT Crowd or The Big Bang Theory or (if it's been really bad) Firefly. Cry a little.
Fat Chick's note:
You might have noticed I didn't eat before I went out. Nor did I eat while I was out.
Firstly, I don't eat before going out because of the anxiety. It upsets my stomach and the less in there the better.
Secondly, I will not eat in public, unless I absolutely have to. The looks, smirks, sneers and comments come thick and fast when I eat. It's almost like they have free reign because I'm sitting and eating and can not possibly hear them.
Well, fuckers, I do hear you and you're wrong. Very, very wrong.
It probably won't shock you when I say that I don't go out very often. It takes a little while to regain any kind of composure and enough confidence to go back out again. Yes, fine, I'm the obligatory overly emotional fat girl. But that's me and I don't think I should turn into some cruel and heartless bitch just to survive out there. That's not who I am.
Anyway, I shouldn't have to build up that kind of armour. I should be accepted just like everyone else.
Wake up. Yes, we do that too. No, you don't have the monopoly on sleeping, sorry for that brutal brush with reality.
Fifteen minutes after waking, slide out of bed and clutch head simply because it's morning and the light hurts my fragile eyes.
Shuffle to the toilet. Shuffle into the bathroom and shower. Yes, I do take my pj's off before I shower just like you do.
Spring out of the shower, awake, beautiful and ready to spend the next 30 minutes deciding what the hell hides most of my flab.
Sit on my bed for 30 in my towel deciding what to wear.
30 minutes later....
Finally decided, dress and then apply small amount of make up. Blow dry hair.
Change outfit to less flabby revealing clothes.
Let everyone know that I am now beautiful and ready to go. Oh, just one more application of lipgloss.
Change outfit back to first choice. Yes, feel much better now.
Leave the house.
Go to public place, usually a shopping centre (Civic for those in Canberra).
Quickly check that outfit is still in place - not too much cleavage, top pulled down over my arse, pant legs aren't crooked or somehow folded up. Good, all good.
Get out of car and walk around.
Standing on the escalator and some guy stares at me. I'd like to think he's staring at me because he thinks I'm so adorable and gorgeous and he must have me right then and there, but the sneer of disgust smeared across his face tells me otherwise.
Step off escalator and dodge crowd so they can't accuse me of not watching where I'm going.
Set determined look and proceed to walk purposefully to City Chic.
Avoid looking at all those sneers of contempt and repulsion. Just avoid it. No, don't look! Oh, too late, saw the group of people standing in the middle of the thoroughfare, all looking at me. Some sneer, some laugh outright, some just point horrified that I exist.
Spy City Chic, almost there.
People walking past make comments to each other, "wow she's fat. She should really lose weight if she wants to live much longer", pretend not to listen and just keep walking purposefully.
Practically run the remainder of the way to City Chic. But don't actually run because that would attract more vitriole and, anyway, jiggly bits will definitely jiggle too much while running.
Step into City Chic store.
Safe.
Or not.
Sales assistant approaches, all smiles and light while looking at me from head to toe. Some distain as masking attempt fails. Le sigh. Here we go again.
"Just looking thanks", please avoid talking to me any further as I've just endured almost as much as I can take. Kthanxbai.
Try on some stuff.
Figure out the sizes are getting smaller as, no, I haven't put on any more weight and anyway half my clothes are feeling a little loose lately.
Le sigh.
Look at the price of something particularly nice and of the right size. Wow, that much for this?
Put the item back.
Prepare to leave store, smile kindly to the sales assistant and notice her returning smile is now radiant. Is that because I'm leaving her store?
Step out of store and eyes are immediately drawn to another scowl of disapproval, hatred, disgust. Avert eyes.
Wonder why shoes are suddenly so loose, look down and realise the laces have come undone. Bugger. Look around and realise that if I bend over to tie them more comments and looks will ensue. Decide it's best to leave shoes untied and keep walking.
Look at art supplies, books and techie stuff. People still commenting, sneering and laughing.
Sudden cramping in stomach, gasping for breath. Anxiety hits. Scamper to bathroom to sit and breathe and hide from the looks. Tie shoes while in there.
Return from bathroom, advise company it's time I leave, feigning illness. Although illness isn't completely feigned it's not as bad as I make it out to be.
Resolutely start back towards the car. Avoid looking at that person staring. Avoid listening to that couple talk and point at me while they walk past. Avoid looking down - I will not give them that satisfaction.
Stand on escalator again, will myself to be smaller - take up less room - woman pushes past and mumbles "move over fat bitch", while she power walks up the thing. Didn't she read the "do not walk on escalator while it's moving" sticker? I know it's always on the base of the escalator and it's very small, but it clearly says remain stationary. Oh well, I might be fat but it appears my eyesight is better than hers. Smile smugly.
Make it the car. Collapse into the front seat, holding back tears. They have not defeated me... Well...
Travel home.
Walk in the door and walk back to my room, get changed into comfy pj's and watch some Mighty Boosh or IT Crowd or The Big Bang Theory or (if it's been really bad) Firefly. Cry a little.
Fat Chick's note:
You might have noticed I didn't eat before I went out. Nor did I eat while I was out.
Firstly, I don't eat before going out because of the anxiety. It upsets my stomach and the less in there the better.
Secondly, I will not eat in public, unless I absolutely have to. The looks, smirks, sneers and comments come thick and fast when I eat. It's almost like they have free reign because I'm sitting and eating and can not possibly hear them.
Well, fuckers, I do hear you and you're wrong. Very, very wrong.
It probably won't shock you when I say that I don't go out very often. It takes a little while to regain any kind of composure and enough confidence to go back out again. Yes, fine, I'm the obligatory overly emotional fat girl. But that's me and I don't think I should turn into some cruel and heartless bitch just to survive out there. That's not who I am.
Anyway, I shouldn't have to build up that kind of armour. I should be accepted just like everyone else.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Some Studies Show Fat Is Bad... Mmmkay?
Well, actually, it's not okay. It's not even close to being okay.
The gorgeous Fat Heffalump couldn't have tweeted this any better:
Anyone that says fat women aren't treated differently by society in general can go fuck themselves too.
But I digress - le sigh - from the main reason I'm writing this post. I've spent most of this morning reading articles that the wonderful people on twitter have linked and/or posted. The amount of money that's going into all these scientific studies only for the results to be corrupted and twisted to fit a biased, and downright prejudiced, view is insane. Seriously, it's insane. Instead of spending all this bloody money on why are fat people so disgusting? shouldn't they - the founders, CEO's, managers, scientists, others - be spending that money on something actually beneficial? Like say all forms of cancer research or mental health programs or perhaps better equipment in hospitals and increasing staff levels?
Perhaps I'm being unfair since I am apparently the stereotypical fat chick. You know the kind, childhood abuse leading to obesity blah blah blah. However, putting that stereotypical crap aside, I still fail to see why being fat must be such a big deal.
Now let's take a little look at the study, exactly how many people were surveyed? Oh only 150 you say? I don't claim to be of a science background or mind, but isn't only 150 people a bit small to gather real evidence or proof or results? And aren't the parameters of the study a bit too narrow - fat people with no surgery vs. fat people after having surgery? Have they taken into consideration the medications the people were on, if any? I know from personal experience that some medications make me as dumb as fuck.
Now wait a minute that article/study is actually discriminating and there's a link to discrimination making our waist circumference incline. So on one hand we're being told that we're fat and therefore - obviously - stupid and on the other hand we're being told that discrimination is adding to our fatness. For fuck sake, could you all just go meet someplace and spend twenty years, or more, debating all your stupid hypothesis and once you've finally agreed on the majority of your bullshit, come back and explain it to us dumb fat people? kthanxbai.
Hey man - fuck you - fat people are not lazy.
Okay, let's move right along before I have a panic attack from all this discrimination, which could result in social anxiety because of my weight. Oh, that's just another little study called Obese individuals can suffer from social anxiety disorder from weight alone. I won't rant about this one because I'm not entirely sure why it pisses me off so much. Maybe it's because I have anxiety and largely based on social situations? Maybe because I don't like the way they talk about fat people? Or maybe because I have a strange love/hate relationship with the DSM IV and, shortly, 5? Whatever it is, it bugs me.
That leaves me with one final article. This one got my attention because I was shocked to learn this:
Jenny Craig is owned by Nestle, and Weight Watchers is owned by the same multinational conglomerate that owns Keebler Foods. So who is really in denial here?
Are you fucking kidding me? These weight loss bastards are actually owned by the very companies and conglomerates that advertise the unhealthy shit we're not supposed to eat?! Are you fucking kidding me?
Oh right, link to the article Behind the Anti-Obesity Veil: Fat Bashing as 'Science' by Liz Snyder.
Despite this being aimed for American readers and talking about stuff in America, this article still applies to those of us Down Under or anywhere really. I mean just look at this:
Acknowledging the emotional harm caused to real people by our words and beliefs is not denial. Acknowledging that the focus on fatness does NOT help anyone get healthier – and that this has been quantified over and over again – is not denial.
Because of course showing counter arguments against their "science" is always met with the comment "you're in denial". * Insert eye rolling here * And, of course, there is absolutely no proof of science supporting us.
Nope.
None.
Not one single study.
Oh, except for those mentioned in Liz Snyder's article - smacks head - but that's just denial! My stupid fat addled brain keeps forgetting that anything remotely true can't actually be true!
So I'm stupid for being fat and fat because I'm discriminated and I suffer from social anxiety because I'm fat and discriminated and after all that I learn that the weight loss companies that people pay more moolah than it's worth are actually owned by the companies that make the "bad" food that I supposedly eat too much of. Does that about cover it?
Phew!
After that amazing discovery I think I need some chocolate cake, deep fried food stuffs and potato chips to deal with the shock. Or not.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Please Allow Me To Introduce Myself
Other than my blog title being the first line to one of my favourite songs*, I figure I should take the time to say a little bit about me since I'm new here - by here I mean the realm of the Fat Acceptance blog.
Offline I am not nearly as "outspoken" and not nearly as much fun! My writing style is quite a bit different from the vast majority of wonderful Fat Acceptance blog writers and I'm awful at remembering proper scientific terms and the numbers associated with them actually terrify me. Instead all I can offer is my opinion and my thoughts and feelings regarding what it's like living as a fat chick. This is probably the best time to also note that I am rather sarcastic and will add little sarcastic remarks to many of my paragraphs.
The absolute details of my real form and self are probably not necessary at this time since I'll no doubt talk about them in future blog posts. Of course, if you're positively dying to know a little more about me you can look at my profile and see my picture. God forbid I actually uploaded a real picture of me, complete with six bottles of coca cola in the background. But, of course, we won't pay attention to the soft drink and will instead gaze upon my gorgeousness. (See what I mean about the sarcasm!?)
I should probably also note that I am terribly sensitive and, being such, I will most likely take the negative comments I may receive (haha! it's not likely trolls will bother with my humble little blog) to heart. However, this won't discourage me from speaking my mind regarding Fat Acceptance and the torrents of abuse I - we - receive because of the body I - we - have.
Also, I'd like to state that my body is mine and how I choose to treat it is of no concern to you. I appreciate your attempts at caring, which are no more than thinly veiled prejudice. Just because you say "I'm only looking out for your well being" doesn't give you the right to demoralise me and/or treat me as if I'm less than a human being. However, if you're going to spew forth that kind of verbal diarrhea I suggest you find someone else. If I want to eat that piece of chocolate - or the whole damn block - I will as it's my body and my decision. Back off bitch.
If you'd like to follow my blog there's an email option as well as the standard blogspot "follow" button somewhere to the right of this post. Please note: if you do follow this blog the author will be so deliriously happy she will break out in a spontaneous condition known as "happiness" And on that note, I shall end this little introduction of me and hope to hear from you and you and, yes, you too.
*10 points to the person who can name the title of the song. Of course, there are no prizes, just universal points to prove how awesome you are.
Offline I am not nearly as "outspoken" and not nearly as much fun! My writing style is quite a bit different from the vast majority of wonderful Fat Acceptance blog writers and I'm awful at remembering proper scientific terms and the numbers associated with them actually terrify me. Instead all I can offer is my opinion and my thoughts and feelings regarding what it's like living as a fat chick. This is probably the best time to also note that I am rather sarcastic and will add little sarcastic remarks to many of my paragraphs.
The absolute details of my real form and self are probably not necessary at this time since I'll no doubt talk about them in future blog posts. Of course, if you're positively dying to know a little more about me you can look at my profile and see my picture. God forbid I actually uploaded a real picture of me, complete with six bottles of coca cola in the background. But, of course, we won't pay attention to the soft drink and will instead gaze upon my gorgeousness. (See what I mean about the sarcasm!?)
I should probably also note that I am terribly sensitive and, being such, I will most likely take the negative comments I may receive (haha! it's not likely trolls will bother with my humble little blog) to heart. However, this won't discourage me from speaking my mind regarding Fat Acceptance and the torrents of abuse I - we - receive because of the body I - we - have.
Also, I'd like to state that my body is mine and how I choose to treat it is of no concern to you. I appreciate your attempts at caring, which are no more than thinly veiled prejudice. Just because you say "I'm only looking out for your well being" doesn't give you the right to demoralise me and/or treat me as if I'm less than a human being. However, if you're going to spew forth that kind of verbal diarrhea I suggest you find someone else. If I want to eat that piece of chocolate - or the whole damn block - I will as it's my body and my decision. Back off bitch.
If you'd like to follow my blog there's an email option as well as the standard blogspot "follow" button somewhere to the right of this post. Please note: if you do follow this blog the author will be so deliriously happy she will break out in a spontaneous condition known as "happiness" And on that note, I shall end this little introduction of me and hope to hear from you and you and, yes, you too.
*10 points to the person who can name the title of the song. Of course, there are no prizes, just universal points to prove how awesome you are.
You Wouldn't Believe This Even If You Read It
So there I was minding my own business in this crazy world, when I get an email saying that one of my favourite bloggers has written a new post. My heart skips a beat as I hurriedly open my email client and ravenously run my eyes through the post. A little shiver of dread and excitement slides along my spine when I discover there is a link to a hash tag on twitter. It must be brilliant or eye opening for it to inspire a post on Big Liberty's blog so I clicked #thingsfatpeoplearetold and my life was immediately changed.
The sheer volume of tweets by other fat people stunned me into awed silence. There are so many people, like me, who have been treated appallingly just because they don't look like a socially acceptable stereotype. As I kept reading I realised that 95% of the tweets posted have been said to me and this was a huge shock. For so very long I have ignored the comments and somehow put them out of my mind because no one else understood that what was said was not only hurtful but rude and generally disgusting. The bubble I have hidden inside for so long was burst and there, in it's place, was the blunt, heartfelt truth. Holy shit, batman.
That brings us up to right now, this minute, as I type these very words and the next. I was inspired by all these wonderful people and their stories, I was inspired by all the blog posts I've read in the last 48 hours and decided it is time for me to add my voice to the thousands of voices already calling for Fat Acceptance. So here I am.
It wasn't an easy decision for me as I have spent more time avoiding any kind of waves that would bring attention to me and my non "normal" flabby person. It was almost a case of if I don't talk about my fatness they won't even notice it and so I became the apologetic fat chick.
What do I mean by "apologetic fat chick"? Melissa from Shakesville explains:
I may have had my head in the sand for a long while but now it's time to be honest with myself, and with you, about what it is really like to be a fat woman living in a skinny world.
The sheer volume of tweets by other fat people stunned me into awed silence. There are so many people, like me, who have been treated appallingly just because they don't look like a socially acceptable stereotype. As I kept reading I realised that 95% of the tweets posted have been said to me and this was a huge shock. For so very long I have ignored the comments and somehow put them out of my mind because no one else understood that what was said was not only hurtful but rude and generally disgusting. The bubble I have hidden inside for so long was burst and there, in it's place, was the blunt, heartfelt truth. Holy shit, batman.
That brings us up to right now, this minute, as I type these very words and the next. I was inspired by all these wonderful people and their stories, I was inspired by all the blog posts I've read in the last 48 hours and decided it is time for me to add my voice to the thousands of voices already calling for Fat Acceptance. So here I am.
It wasn't an easy decision for me as I have spent more time avoiding any kind of waves that would bring attention to me and my non "normal" flabby person. It was almost a case of if I don't talk about my fatness they won't even notice it and so I became the apologetic fat chick.
What do I mean by "apologetic fat chick"? Melissa from Shakesville explains:
I've said it before and I'll say it once again: It remains a radical act to be fat and happy. If you're fat, you're not only meant to be unhappy, but deeply ashamed of yourself, projecting at all times an apologetic nature, indicative of your everlasting remorse for having wrought your monstrous self upon the world. You are certainly not meant to be bold, or assertive, or confident—and should you manage to overcome the constant drumbeat of messages that you are ugly and unsexy and have earned equally society's disdain and your own self-hatred, should you forget your place and walk into the world one day with your head held high, you are to be reminded by the cow-calls and contemptuous looks of perfect strangers that you are not supposed to have self-esteem; you don't deserve it. Being publicly fat and happy is hard; being publicly, shamelessly, unshakably fat and happy is an act of both will and bravery.
Instead of remaining apologetic I'm moving towards true self love and therefore have this insatiable need to voice my opinion on how fucked up and discouraging it is to be ridiculed for being who you are. No more will I sit passively and let others dictate how I should act, what I should eat, how to dress my flabby body and other such nonsense. See this post, it's my big FUCK YOU to the world that says I am unhealthy for being a size AU22-24 and that I am "diseased" for being who I am.
But it goes deeper than that as Fat Heffalump explains On Expressions of Dismay and Disbelief...
So I want to say this to all of the people who are horrified at the things they read in these tweets. Don’t just shake your head, gasp in horror, and cluck your tongue at how terrible people are to the poor fatties. Stand the fuck up. Say something when you hear fat hate. Speak up when you see someone being treated badly because of the size of their body. Challenge those articles you see in magazines, newspapers and on television that perpetuate myths about fat people. Ask questions of the “facts” you see spouted that shame fat people, think about who might just benefit from fat phobia. After all, fat activists have been doing just this for decades.
I may have had my head in the sand for a long while but now it's time to be honest with myself, and with you, about what it is really like to be a fat woman living in a skinny world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)