Ha! I wrote that whole post yesterday, and then remember that Joy Nash says it all better than I could, while looking fabulous:
If you like that, check out Joy's blog.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Big Girls Shouldn't Cry, especially on the subway.
So, I guess I have to face the fact that my life is NOT BORING. It's busy and expensive and complicated and amazing and hard, but it is never boring. So this blog will happen when it happens, and when I have something to share. Which I do.
I'm reading a book right now - Lessons from the Fat-O-Sphere by Kate Harding and Marianne Kirby - and it's one of those potentially life-changing books. Like, I'm reading it and thinking "if I can do this, if I can be okay in my own skin, my life might become something else, something better." It's a book about Fat Acceptance, and more than that it's a book about learning how to stop hating yourself, how to stop judging people around you, how to let go of guilt and stop making unattainable promises to yourself. It's about learning to be critical of medical and media reports about health and body size - who is funding them? Has something pretty benign been sensationalized? Has there been any fact-checking at all? (For example - what is the percentage growth in obesity rates among women since 1999? Answer, according to many medical sources: ZERO. Bet your Marie Claire cover story on how to lose those extra 10 pounds doesn't let you know that, though.)
Here's a story about me and this book:
I live in New York City. NYC has a lot of skinny girls in it, at least on TV. I read on the subway, mainly because I spend a good deal of my time there, and it's easy and fun and keeps me entertained. (I try not to read books that make me cry, but sometimes, like with this one, I do anyway.) When I started reading this book, I did that thing that book lovers hate, and folded the paperback cover over so no one could see the cover. Or I held the book in my lap, so no one would guess what I was reading. I was ASHAMED to be reading a book about Fat Acceptance. I was GUILTY, thinking that someone, one of these NYC Beautiful People I see on TV, or hanging out at NYU in the latest H&M clothes that would never fit me, would look at me, standing there in my size 18 glory, and look at the cover of this book, and think to themselves "of course you want to stop dieting, you Fatty Fatson. You just don't have the willpower, you're lazy, you can't do it and you want someone to tell you that you don't have to." And you know what? No one was thinking that. No one gives a good god damn what I read on the subway. I was the one who thought that. I was the one who was hating on myself for reading this book in public, where other people could see. Guess what? Those other people could see me without the book. They weren't going to magically look at the cover of a book and then realize I was fat. I'm fat. Any sighted person would know that.
About three chapters in, I sort of... stopped folding the cover over. And when I glanced up, no one was looking. But I was. I was seeing all sorts of lovely people of all sorts of sizes and genders and ethnicities all over the place. And none of them cared about my fat book. No one was judging me but me, and man. That was a startling thought.
This book is not crazy. But sometimes the things it says are radical in their simplicity, like:
My biggest worry as I tackle the things Kate and Marianne are teaching me is that I am a) going to be accused of using this as an excuse for not being healthy and b) that those people will be right. I'm not a dieter. I don't own a scale. I tend to take a "it's not going to work anyway" attitude about weightloss because I knew it would be hard and probably wouldn't work and I don't like to do things I'm not good at. That doesn't mean I don't judge myself, and my weight, every day. That just means that I put up a facade of "Take me as I am", when really I believe that this is all I will ever be, and not in the good way. I am fat, and that is that, but without the empowerment of "SO WHAT?" that this book is screaming at me. I'm a woman who believes my body is my own, end of story, and what I do with it is my business. Somehow, these women have (RADICALLY!) expanded this idea to include what I eat, where I do, what I wear. I'm fat, SO WHAT? What does that say about me as a person?
Answer: Not very much. It doesn't come close to describing me, or describing ANYONE. My weight has no morality attached to it. It doesn't make me lazy or stupid or unmotivated or sexless. In fact, I am most certainly NONE of those things. And I would be who I am at whatever weight I was. Being fat doesn't define me, but it is part of who I am in this society, and if I can find a way to balance that... who boy, look out!
I need to take a long, hard look at myself (not in the mirror, just metaphorically) and know that in order to stop the cycle of "why even bother" that has always existed in my (non-)weight-loss thoughts, I need to know that I SHOULD bother to eat right for me, whatever that means. I SHOULD bother to find some physical activity that makes me happy. I SHOULD go dancing and lift weights and eat potato chips when I get the urge or take the night off and watch White Collar because it makes me clap with glee. I should listen to my body because it's MY BODY and we should be best friends forever. I should bother because I should love myself enough - not to lose weight, but to be healthy and happy at whatever pants size I may be.
It's a great book, and an easy read, and a hard thing to really internalize. I might read it twice.
Then, it's on to Health At Every Size, the foundation of the HAES movement.
And maybe I'll buy some free weights. They won't make me thin, but man, they might make me happy.
I'm reading a book right now - Lessons from the Fat-O-Sphere by Kate Harding and Marianne Kirby - and it's one of those potentially life-changing books. Like, I'm reading it and thinking "if I can do this, if I can be okay in my own skin, my life might become something else, something better." It's a book about Fat Acceptance, and more than that it's a book about learning how to stop hating yourself, how to stop judging people around you, how to let go of guilt and stop making unattainable promises to yourself. It's about learning to be critical of medical and media reports about health and body size - who is funding them? Has something pretty benign been sensationalized? Has there been any fact-checking at all? (For example - what is the percentage growth in obesity rates among women since 1999? Answer, according to many medical sources: ZERO. Bet your Marie Claire cover story on how to lose those extra 10 pounds doesn't let you know that, though.)
Here's a story about me and this book:
I live in New York City. NYC has a lot of skinny girls in it, at least on TV. I read on the subway, mainly because I spend a good deal of my time there, and it's easy and fun and keeps me entertained. (I try not to read books that make me cry, but sometimes, like with this one, I do anyway.) When I started reading this book, I did that thing that book lovers hate, and folded the paperback cover over so no one could see the cover. Or I held the book in my lap, so no one would guess what I was reading. I was ASHAMED to be reading a book about Fat Acceptance. I was GUILTY, thinking that someone, one of these NYC Beautiful People I see on TV, or hanging out at NYU in the latest H&M clothes that would never fit me, would look at me, standing there in my size 18 glory, and look at the cover of this book, and think to themselves "of course you want to stop dieting, you Fatty Fatson. You just don't have the willpower, you're lazy, you can't do it and you want someone to tell you that you don't have to." And you know what? No one was thinking that. No one gives a good god damn what I read on the subway. I was the one who thought that. I was the one who was hating on myself for reading this book in public, where other people could see. Guess what? Those other people could see me without the book. They weren't going to magically look at the cover of a book and then realize I was fat. I'm fat. Any sighted person would know that.
About three chapters in, I sort of... stopped folding the cover over. And when I glanced up, no one was looking. But I was. I was seeing all sorts of lovely people of all sorts of sizes and genders and ethnicities all over the place. And none of them cared about my fat book. No one was judging me but me, and man. That was a startling thought.
This book is not crazy. But sometimes the things it says are radical in their simplicity, like:
- If you want to eat a cookie right now, eat a cookie. If you want a salad for dinner, have a salad. Listen to your body, eat when you're hungry, stop when you're full.
- There is no such thing as "bad food". Food is food is food and has no morality attached to it.
- Don't give money to stores that don't deign to carry your size.
- If clothes don't fit right, it's the clothes fault, not yours.
- Don't be friends with people who criticize your weight, or make you feel belittled because of it.
My biggest worry as I tackle the things Kate and Marianne are teaching me is that I am a) going to be accused of using this as an excuse for not being healthy and b) that those people will be right. I'm not a dieter. I don't own a scale. I tend to take a "it's not going to work anyway" attitude about weightloss because I knew it would be hard and probably wouldn't work and I don't like to do things I'm not good at. That doesn't mean I don't judge myself, and my weight, every day. That just means that I put up a facade of "Take me as I am", when really I believe that this is all I will ever be, and not in the good way. I am fat, and that is that, but without the empowerment of "SO WHAT?" that this book is screaming at me. I'm a woman who believes my body is my own, end of story, and what I do with it is my business. Somehow, these women have (RADICALLY!) expanded this idea to include what I eat, where I do, what I wear. I'm fat, SO WHAT? What does that say about me as a person?
Answer: Not very much. It doesn't come close to describing me, or describing ANYONE. My weight has no morality attached to it. It doesn't make me lazy or stupid or unmotivated or sexless. In fact, I am most certainly NONE of those things. And I would be who I am at whatever weight I was. Being fat doesn't define me, but it is part of who I am in this society, and if I can find a way to balance that... who boy, look out!
I need to take a long, hard look at myself (not in the mirror, just metaphorically) and know that in order to stop the cycle of "why even bother" that has always existed in my (non-)weight-loss thoughts, I need to know that I SHOULD bother to eat right for me, whatever that means. I SHOULD bother to find some physical activity that makes me happy. I SHOULD go dancing and lift weights and eat potato chips when I get the urge or take the night off and watch White Collar because it makes me clap with glee. I should listen to my body because it's MY BODY and we should be best friends forever. I should bother because I should love myself enough - not to lose weight, but to be healthy and happy at whatever pants size I may be.
It's a great book, and an easy read, and a hard thing to really internalize. I might read it twice.
Then, it's on to Health At Every Size, the foundation of the HAES movement.
And maybe I'll buy some free weights. They won't make me thin, but man, they might make me happy.
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