I recently graduated college, and am now back in my childhood home for the summer. As I was clearing out old clutter in my room, I came across a ripped, marbled piece of paper tacked to my bulletin board. I knew it wasn’t there for no reason. When I turned it over, I felt the immediate sharp pang of heartbreak for my younger self.
On that piece of paper were written the words, I WILL NOT BE FAT ANYMORE.
I had made a pact with myself, sometime in my teens. Written it as a secret goal. I wouldn’t be fat anymore, the implication being that in achieving that, I would unlock all the happiness that seemed so desperately unattainable at the time.
Now, however many years later, seeing the note makes me feel slightly ashamed and deeply saddened. I had so genuinely believed the necessity of that goal, as well as the necessity of keeping it both nearby and hidden. Holding the slip of paper made me feel a little ill, and I almost immediately threw it in the trashcan.
Only to dig it back out a minute later.
That girl’s experience was real. And rather than throw it away, it felt important to take a moment to really acknowledge, for myself, how far I’ve come. To cross out those words, and write myself a better note. Remind myself that even though I still struggle everyday, I now know where the real struggle is. It is not to get thin (or more accurately, non-fat), but rather to stay positive in the face of a deeply misogynistic and body-phobic culture. To hold my head high, knowing that I love myself, and that that matters more than anything anyone else can say or do.
I want to say that it gets better, but that feels disingenuous, a denial of our own lived realities. I don’t think it gets better quickly enough for the countless people who struggle not to hate themselves because of their size or skin or heart. But what I do know is that we get stronger. And by getting stronger, we make it better.
My Fat, Beautiful Body, published at RoleReboot
Without fail at noon on every Friday, 30 minutes before my beginning ballet class starts, a mixture of fear and dread ooze into my mind. It starts when I think of getting dressed for class. Despite a well-stocked closet, I am never content with my choices. I spend 20 minutes scouring my closet for a garment that doesn’t exist—I am looking for something that will make me invincible. Exasperated, I leave wearing the same men’s gym shorts and oversized t-shirt. My nerves don’t get any better once I get to class. I am scared to look at my body in a mirror; I am scared to compare my body to my peers. I try to stand in the back rows as far away from the mirrors as possible, and I still occasionally catch a glimpse of my double chin. Or my belly escaping the drapery of my shirt. I am scared that even after working at accepting my body and fighting tooth and nail to get those around me to change their actions and opinions, I will see something repulsive. I can’t get through a weekly dance class without having to give myself pep talks. It takes all that I can muster to remind myself that I am beautiful and, more importantly, worthy of being in that class. It takes all that I have to remind myself that I love my body and that I can take pleasure in moving it. I can take pleasure and find beauty in my body.
I loathe classifying these problems (yes, I acknowledge that they’re problems) as “body image” problems. “Body image” isn’t really about the image of bodies. It’s about the holistic relationships we have with our bodies. It’s about how bodies look, how they move, what they feel like, and how we treat them. Even if we ignore semantics, conversations about body image almost always come down to health. Most conversations I’ve had about body image blame the media and advertising for exposing young girls to impossible standards in order to sell products. But more than selling products, these images drive people to unhealthy habits—crash diets, disordered eating, and sometimes even more dramatic actions like diet pills and self-harm.
And yet many of these behaviors have been recommended to me by health professionals. You see, I’m fat. Not “does this dress make me look fat?” fat, but eligible-for-weight-loss-surgery
morbidly obesedeathfat. I’ve been fat for as long as I can remember, but the first time I remember my size being an issue was at a check-up. I was 8 years old, and after plotting my height and weight in one of those grids, my pediatrician had one of those “talks” with my parents and me. I was too heavy for my height and age, so he presented me with a Xeroxed list of 10 “helpful tips” for eating.It was meant to be innocuous, but I became obsessed with that sheet of paper. It was the first time I saw my body as a personal failing, and that list was the way to redeem myself. I followed the rules to a tee, and yet I didn’t get any smaller. That simple piece of paper was only the beginning. My adolescence was filled with appointments with doctors and nutritionists, medically facilitated crash diets, and crying fits in dressing rooms. My doctors pathologzied my body, and I believed them. I believed that my fat body meant that I was overeating, even when I would leave the dinner table hungry. I believed that I was lazy, unkempt, untrustworthy. I couldn’t trust myself.
I can’t rely on a conventional understanding of health to fix my body image issues because my body image issues stem from those conventional understandings of health. To find peace with my body I’ve had to reject mainstream medical wisdom. I screen my health care professionals, and I set firm boundaries. I am not interested in weight loss, and I will not step on a scale. I don’t care about a new diet regimen; I care about eating. I’ve learned to love my body—I love the look of my body; I love the way my squishy, soft flesh feels. I have embraced my fat. I do this because I care about my body. I care less about the image of my body, and I care more about my relationship to my body.
When I stand at the barre to begin my weekly ballet class, I am reminded that loving my body is both difficult and important. As we go through the usual warm-up routine I feel my muscles stretch and flex. I am present in my body, and I appreciate the grace and flow of movements. As we transition into leaps and jumps, I am reminded of that power in my body. My hearty legs can push my body in the air again and again in rapid succession. I land easily each time.
I am still scared that even after working to accept my body I will catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and find something ugly. So far, I’ve only seen my body. My fat, beautiful body.
Photos by Liz Naiden
READ THIS. I relate so utterly to this entire post. A wonderful writer speaking truth.
(via heyfatchick)
Source: rolereboot.org
“You have the right to eat, because you are a human being. You also need to eat, because you are a human being. There is no person out there, fat or thin, who can live a healthy, functional life without eating a reasonable amount of food. There is a misconception that somehow being fat beyond a certain arbitrary line drawn in imaginary BMI sand means you have the superhuman ability, and the moral obligation, to live without food. Which is total bullshit. Quick nutrition interlude: your body, every cell in your body but particularly your brain, runs on sugar. Glucose is the preferred day-to-day gasoline that makes you go. And, believe it or not, our body only has a short-term store (usually measured in hours) of glucose to draw on. Which means? You need to eat. Regularly. You’re not going to be able to think clearly for very long without it, and you’re going to feel like ass, physically.”—
Michelle, aka The Fat Nutritionist, “How to eat, in a nutshell”
Go read the whole thing. *shoos*
(via drst)
The Fat Nutritionist was the first person I read who laid out the (in retrospect totally logical) argument that all this talk about how sugar or fat or carbs are “addicting” and all this talk about “cravings” etc. was just our culture’s bizarre interpretation of the messages people’s bodies send them when they need food.
(via galesofnovember)
News Flash Folks: Fat people who stop eating when / before they’re full Do, in fact, exist. Conversely, there are also a lot of ‘normal weight’ people out there with totally disordered eating habits. Some of them screwing themselves up because a supposed expert told them ‘I know your body better than YOU do’. This is seen as logical and healthy.
(via Bilt2tumble)
(via sharkyteeth)
Source: drst
The Stand 4 Kids campaign now has it’s own tumblr!
Source: istandagainstweightbullying
hey, fat chick!: A note about compassion towards fat people.
Compassion or coming from a place of love does not mean you get to judge, shame, or otherwise tell anyone what to do.
That is wanting to be bossy and/or right.
Being compassionate or loving towards people does not mean you get to talk to them any way you please.
For reference…
Source: nudiemuse
First, remember that style comes in all sizes, so the bigger you are, the more style you have. And second, draw attention to your best features by pointing at them, and conceal your flaws by sucker punching anyone who mentions them.
(via hello-mcee)
Source: timeoutnewyork
HALLOWEENSPIRATION
Polianarchy reminds me why fat wonderwoman is one of my favourite blogs. Given my love of primaries, classic superheroes and fat looking awesome, I can’t think why I’ve never linked to it before. Cheers poli!
Cool!
(via thirstforsalt)
Source: fatwonderwoman.blogspot.com
Fatphobic ads target children in ATL—street art reclaims it.
this is a defaced ad sponsored by children’s healthcare of atlanta. this specific ad said something along the lines of, “stocky, chubby, chunky. you’re still fat.” other ads said things like, “it’s hard to be a little girl when you’re not,” “fat kids become fat adults,” and “big bones didn’t make me this way, big meals did.”
these ads are horrific for numerous reasons, but the thing that startles me the most is the public targeting and shaming of children. i can’t even imagine how much self hatred these ads created.
choa defended itself by stating that obesity is a health problem. this tired defense of fatphobia is completely ridiculous. choa is basically saying that body hate, eating disorders like bulemia and anorexia, depression, and suicide are better than being fat.
fuck them. if you see one of these signs, please deface it if you can. fat kids rule!
LOVE this edit and LOVE the look on this kids face. They’re just like “yeah, I know I’m awesome.”
<3
to add some more perspective on this campaign and how it’s playing out: the only places i’ve seen these ads has been on atlanta’s public transit system (in stations and bus shelters mostly), which is overwhelmingly used by lower-income people of color - it’s always given me this gross feeling that CHoA, like, feels that it’s really necessary to tell this population of kids and parents/caregivers in specific that FAT IS BAD which def feels to me linked to all sorts of racist and classist notions about food and child-rearing
wow
Horrifying. And I was just reading about the latest influence of Big Food on school lunches, which is very much related. If we want to help children be healthier (and let’s state once again that size or body type is not indicative of health), we don’t need to shame and harm them, we need to HELP THEM EAT WELL. And that’s true of ALL children, and in fact, all people. Instead of shaming children (which, again, it boggles the mind how incredibly harmful and irresponsible this ad campaign is), let’s work against the corporations that have absolutely zero concern for our health.
Source: grrlyman
