(Disclaimer: My last couple of posts have been “Ha ha I’m funny” blogs, at least in my own head. This does not follow the same parameters. I am exploring, after all.)
This is my new favorite blog.
I pride myself on being a somewhat socially conscious person. I say “somewhat”, because I try not to trick myself into believing that somehow I’ve got it all figured out. In fact, the more I learn, the more I realize that really, I don’t know a damn thing. But, despite my small pool of knowledge, there are certain issues that I can get fired up about, and stay fired up about for days and weeks on end. Generally, anything having to do with race, sex, gender, sexual-orientation, class, disability, and any other minority status that induces mass discrimination and prejudice really get my goat.
That being said, the idea of Fat Acceptance (FA) and Health At Every Size (HAES) were fairly new concepts to me when I stumbled across Kate Harding’s inspired and hilarious blog. I was instantly hooked. Now, I’m not a fat person. I would describe myself as fairly average, but have been described by others as thin. (To make no mention of some of my weight-obsessed family members, who would describe me as “omg you’re so skinny have you lost weight!?”).
Ok, so I will make mention of them. As a woman raised in the US, I was raised with the same values as every other US raised woman. Among those values, it is clearly stated that “the skinnier the better,” and “if you are not actively losing weight, you are a fat cow”. The older women in my family, raised in the same environment as I, held the same values. Therefore, I was brought up watching these women (and the entire nation) trying everything possible to get their waists down to the all-powerful Size Six. I mean, seriously, the cabbage soup diet?!? And that’s not even a joke.
As a result of this thin-obsessed culture, it is only natural that, despite my inherently average size, I’ve got issues. I myself have, in the past, dieted to excess, denied my body of precious nutrients, tortured myself with ridiculously un-fun exercise, and on and on. I have done this because it’s what I’ve been taught to do. Femininity and self-worth are intrinsically tied to our body fat percentages and pants sizes, and the only way to undo the damage that has been unapologetically inflicted on us is to get educated and rebel.
And what a sad word that is: rebel. It is a sad word, in this context, because what it means is that in order to love ourselves just the way we are, we must fight, resist, defy, and reject the very society that we are surrounded with at all times. And that, my friends, is not fucking easy.
I like to think that I am, in many ways, moving away from the insane patriarchal idea that skinny=godlike. This is, in part, due to the fact that I really love to eat. Food makes me happy! And since food makes me happy, the idea of restricting and measuring and weighing makes me decidedly unhappy. Most diets do not include ice cream and hoagies and bagel sandwiches and lattes, and these are all things that I am unwilling to give up. But here’s a secret, one that I am ashamed to admit and that I’m not sure I’ve actually spoken aloud before: I feel guilty more often than not, when I “indulge” (please note the sarcasm dripping from that word) in these delicious goodies.
THAT IS TOTALLY AND UTTERLY RIDICULOUS. Here’s the facts: As I have said, I am not a large person. And, quite frankly, even if I was a large person, I still eat a reasonably not-crappy diet most of the time and am fairly active in my day-to-day life. All of these things add up to the fact that if I want to spend my Saturday night eating half a pizza and some Ben and Jerry’s while watching the latest New Release, it’s really not a big deal. And yet, my US Media fed brain tells me that pizza and ice cream = burning in the eternal fire pits of hell.
Unfortunately, I am not alone in this delusion. And fortunately, I am not alone in this delusion. Woman everywhere, in the US and beyond, have to deal with this very same thing. This makes me sad and outraged, and yet, it’s websites like Shapely Prose that give me some serious hope. Here is a group of women who are fat (and average and small), who are actively working toward becoming perfectly okay with whatever shape it is that the Universe saw fit to give them. That’s some serious inspiration right there.
So, despite my insane thought processes surrounding food, I will continue to eat my delicious ice cream, and try to remember, like these amazing women, that the number on the scale does not define me. And, when the subject of the newest lose-thirty-pounds-in-a-day diet plan comes up, I will happily think to myself: “Fuck you, cabbage soup.”
