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.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
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.
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