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.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
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.
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