Fill ‘er up
If you’ve spent any time at all in a dieting environment — professional or amateur — you’ve definitely heard that “food is fuel.” It is not entertainment, damn it! This strikes me as just as dreary as the idea that sex is solely for procreation. Heck, even the Catholic Church allows another reason for sex: to strengthen the bond between wife and husband.
So I’d been advised in my former dieting days to view food for my body like gas for a car. Er, okay. I accepted this blindly as “great advice!” (Except I enjoy mouth-feels of food almost as much as tastes, sometimes more.) It sounded like a useful thing to keep in mind. But like so much diet advice clunking around in my head — like “eat and exercise like a thin person” — it just doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. (Like, uh, there are many thin people who overeat and are sedentary.)
I began to ruminate on the food/body-gas/car analogy. Fuel, huh? Well, the dieting maestros swear that losing weight’s all about burning more calories than you take in.
Well, what happens if a car uses more gas than it’s been filled with? If your car runs out of gas, it breaks down, and you’re going nowhere. Supposedly even letting the gas tank get below 1/4 full is bad for the car.
I don’t think the human body is designed to ever burn more calories than it took in. That makes no sense. It’ll either use what it has or save any extra energy for later use/emergencies.
I’d rather have a car with just enough gas in the tank to get me to my destination. Actually, having extra fuel in reserve sounds like an even better plan. Running on empty doesn’t interest me at all and actually sounds quite dangerous.
[My blogging here has been -- well, sporadic doesn't begin to cover it. A real-life project has eaten up most of the time I used to spend blogging, and this will continue the rest of this year and possibly several more. So this could be my last post. I'd love to be able to come back. I'm just not sure when. But I thank you from my cockles for reading/commenting. You make the Fatosphere a hell of a community, and I'm grateful for your contributions and how you've informed my belief in fat acceptance.]
LOLfat 5
In this case, “LOL” stands for living out loud and getting the last laugh. LOLfats attempt to reclaim our decapitated (or, in this case, faceless) images.
The caption is my FA take on an old dieting/pro-ana canard (”Nothing tastes as good as thin feels”).
The gift of fat acceptance
Worth Your Weight hit the one-year mark last week. Whoa. Like some FA bloggers have said, my own blog grew out of the desire to stop spamming other FA blogs with tome-like comments. Blogging takes more dedication than commenting, though, and I have a whole new appreciation for bloggers who update frequently. It takes a lot of time and effort. Unfortunately, I’m not able to comment and update as much as I’d like to, but it’s still nice to feel like part of an FA community. I must thank Fat Fu for that.
I am very thankful for all of you. Yep, even those I debated with — even when we couldn’t agree, even when we couldn’t persuade the other, you made me refine my argument and for that I am grateful. Readers and commenters here … well, you make this place what it is. You keep me coming back myself, and I’m really honored by our interaction. Thank you for visiting, sharing, lurking. You make me smile and further my journey.
My own FA progress is coming along nicely. Not perfect by any means. I still have at least one “I hate being fat” moment a day. Yet, resisting the urge/imperative to diet is getting easier. I actually shudder to think if I’d never stumbled across FA. But I wish I had done so earlier, like back in college or even high school.
Fat acceptance is truly a gift. It’s given me my life back to some extent. Before FA, no matter what accomplishments I had elsewhere — no matter what successes I imagined/hoped for/fantasized about — there was always the glaring “failure” of still being fat. I sometimes avoided going out because of being fat. I’m sometimes still tempted to hide, on a low or blue day.
This may be naive, but I think if fat haters/concern trolls could exist in the mind of a fat person for a day and truly experience the loneliness, guilt, self-hatred, shame, self-esteem suicide, and pain fat people deal with every day and have dealt with every day, every hour, day in, day out, year after year … just maybe they’d let up. I feel all this stuff on a regular basis, and I’m actively pursuing being a fat-positive woman! Sometimes I just think the anti-fat people believe fat shaming and hatred is no big whoop. Like a paper cut or something. Rolls off the back rolls. Erm, no. It’s more like being stabbed in the back, through the heart — and then twist.
Here’s something that sounds completely bonkers. My school friends knew I was fat. I was fat in school. Yet, years later I avoided meeting up because I hadn’t succeeded in losing any weight. Madness. It made complete sense to me at the time, and now I’m just like, “Huh?” They knew you were fat! Why would they have expected you to become perfect in the interim?
There are many paths I shunned because I thought fat stood in the way. (That includes romantic avenues. Yes, s/he is interested in you! Yes! Go for it. Even if you’re wrong, rejection is less painful than regret, IMO.) No more. It’s little acts of standing up for myself, but there are bigger things in the works, too.
I wear sleeveless shirts again. I used to whenever I wanted but then got self-conscious about my upper arms. Heh, guess what? Thin women have the water wings o’ flesh that undulate when they wave goodbye, too. Mine are larger. So what?
Another little thing is that I’ve allowed myself to wear watches and wrist cuff/bands again. I had been taught that they aren’t for larger arms. That bracelets and the like should gracefully slide halfway towards the elbow. Forget that noise. Mine may stay firmly at wrist, depending on the selection for that day. And that’s just fine. I like knowing the time, and I enjoy jewelry I’ve acquired over the years.
For years, I’ve put off a return to Japan until I’ve lost weight. (I grew up there as “The Fattest Girl in the World,” but strangely photographs of me at the time contradict how I was treated and how I felt — a common experience, post-FA.) At least now the only thing standing in my way is money.
The crux of fat acceptance, in my view, is that fat is a natural variation that’s been unjustly vilified, and the high-pressure attempts to correct it actually make one fatter. It’s not that the default human is thin and fat people are rebelling against the norm. We’re part of the norm. There’s short and tall. There’s black hair, brown hair, red hair, and blond hair. There’s brown eyes, green eyes, and blue eyes. (Not to mention the myriad combinations.) Why is it at all logical to assume thin is the only size humans are supposed to be and fat is a deviation? It’s really not.
Basically, the gift that is fat acceptance (including HAES) is enabling me to learn how to be (more) myself … not wanting to be anybody else, including thin. It’s a rough ride at times. Sometimes it’s like a summer drive at dusk with my favorite song on the radio. But at least I’m on it, you know. I feel lucky to have accidentally made my way aboard. Roll on.
LOLfat 4
In this case, “LOL” stands for living out loud and getting the last laugh. LOLfats attempt to reclaim our decapitated images.
The caption was inspired by the description of a living book, Fat Person, from the extremely cool Living Library project, Aussie version:
I think one of the biggest “light bulb” moments in my life was when I realised that I am not a broken thin person. I’m a person with feelings, dreams and aspirations – and those don’t all revolve around the size or shape of my body.
I learned about the project from Big Fat Blog’s guest post by rainalee. If you haven’t read the series on her experience as a living book, I highly recommend it.
I also remember hearing somewhere that “men are failed women at birth.” Whether that is true or not, it’s wildly offensive and negating. Akin to saying a lesbian is a “failed straight person.” Just no.
Real quick: one last thing
If you’ve seen this already or if something similar has been discussed in the Fatosphere recently, forgive me. But this is what I was trying to get at in my last post. Replace “feminist” with “fat acceptor.”
We need our own Big Tent:
In the middle of the lawn is a big blue tent with a sign saying, “The New Agenda.” This is the tent where women from all the different booths and kiosks gather to work on the issues they agree on — which, as we all know, is not every issue. They don’t stop being themselves when they go to The New Agenda tent, and they don’t abandon their beliefs. They just put aside their differences long enough to talk about the things they do agree on.
Pro-choice women will never agree with pro-life women on abortion, but they do agree on equal pay and healthcare and domestic violence. In The New Agenda tent, those are the things they can work on together. The Hothead Paisan lesbians and the feminists-for-Christ probably won’t be joining each other’s social clubs anytime soon, but in The New Agenda tent they can put their heads together to figure out how to combat sexism in the media.
The idea is to create a place where we can join forces on the many issues that unite us, instead of remaining always divided by the issues that separate us.
[Comments off ... and me, too, for a little while. Take care!]
[ETA a description of the "Big Tent" AKA the New Agenda from the above link to Reclusive Leftist for those who don't want to click through.]
To flounce or not to flounce?
I understand the urge to flounce. I think it’s a very human one. But I’ve known it’s looked down upon since the wild, wild West of Usenet. (”Just leave already! No need to draw attention to yourself with a big melodramatic ‘goodbye, cruel Web’ post.”) While some flouncers are seeking drama/attention, I think there are many who simply want to say goodbye and let others know why they may no longer be seeing them around.
The Fatosphere in-fighting is demoralizing. It used to be an uplifting and inspirational place, for me anyway. I’ve only been involved a little over a year, but now the idea of walking away is relieving some anxiety and feels freeing.
Am I the only one worried that fighting amongst ourselves is preventing us from banding together to advance fat acceptance? I can’t imagine I am. Is this what’s kept FA a fringe movement for over three decades? What a shame. Is there no way to unite behind a common goal despite all our differences — of opinion, experience, politics, religion, etc.? I don’t know.
I still miss Disturbing Brew. It saddens me that Big Fat Kiss has recently left. Now, Fabulously Fat College Student is leaving, too. (I’m not sure why, but I’m curious.) There have been others who have moved on in the past year as well. Every time I wonder if FA just got weaker.
When we spend so much time fighting each other, who’s left to fight for fat acceptance? Maybe some participants in the Fatosphere aren’t interested in furthering the cause. ::shrug:: I just can’t tell anymore. But isn’t FA worth banding together for, even if we can agree on nothing else?
So if I end up closing this blog or making it private, you can always reach me at worthyourweight [at] gmail [dot] com. I’ll be happy to keep in touch and/or grant you access to the posts.
If you do not find God [or good, for you atheists] in the next person you meet, it is a waste of time looking for Him further.
Mahatma Gandhi
In lieu of blogging today…
I’ll be making origami cranes.
Why?
Well, aside from the fact I like doing origami, I also wanted to help out a fun, creative offline FA project. I’m sure you’ve heard of it by now. Marilyn Wann’s 1000 Fat Cranes. I’m Jenny-come-lately here, but I’m going to try to make as many as possible. I’m a bit worried about adjusting my technique so that they end up *fat* cranes, but I’ll do my best.
I’m not sure how many cranes are still needed, if any. But I’m going to start and keep an eye on the updates. If 1000 are made before I get mine sent out, I may just continue for my own wish ^_~
You can learn more about the project here.
Pitch in if you’re interested!
(Comments are off to keep my hands free for folding.)
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More concerned about z’s than lbs
We all know how important sleep is for health. That’s one of many reasons that insomnia can be so maddening. I know I need sleep to function well and repair my body. Being well aware of how essential restorative sleep is compounds my sleeping problem. It makes me worry about it over and above the fatigue and other consequences of not getting enough sleep.
If you’re like me and struggle with long-term insomnia (and I’m guessing a good chunk of us in the Fatosphere do; after all, many conditions we share like depression and fibromyalgia either can cause sleep disorders or can be caused by sleep dysfunction), then I’m sure you are well aware of the recommendations for good sleep hygiene. If not, they include:
–cut out nicotine
–cut out caffeine
–exercise, but not 2 hours before bedtime
–use your bed for sleep and sex only
–try to find some way of relaxing that works for you; have a wind-down bedtime ritual
–reduce light in your bedroom with blackout curtains and/or a sleep mask; reduce noise with earplugs or drown it out with a white noise machine
–keep your bedroom at a good temperature: not too hot, not too cold
I wanted to share some things I’ve discovered in my six years — and counting — of grappling with insomnia. (I could almost cry even reflecting on this and realizing that I’ve only slept six hours straight twice in the past six years. And I was used to sleeping eight hours straight. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to sleep.) Of course, this post is not a substitute for medical advice. Please see your doctor if you are experiencing insomnia. Like I said, these are just my tips after a lot of trial and error, stuff not usually included in “sleep hygiene” advice.
Avoid over-the-counter sleep aids like Sominex and Unisom. I was warned that using them could mimic fibromyalgia. I’ve never been able to corroborate that, but I know that eventually they made my sleep even worse than it was. I also became psychologically dependent on them. It was a real brothertrucker getting myself off of them.
I was eventually prescribed a sleep aid, but I experienced five different side effects after taking it for a short time. So now I’m not on any medication to help me sleep. I sometimes use Bach’s Rescue Sleep to quiet myself down if I’m revved up and it’s bedtime. It’s made from flower essences and is meant to calm. And — ugh — I hate to admit it, but I do keep a box of Unisom on hand for the really bad nights. As a last resort. But I try not to use any because it was really hard to get off of when I was taking two to three a night.
Keep a notebook and pen within reach of your bed. Rather than running through my to-do list for the next day and fretting myself into a tizzy, I can write it down and let it go.
It’s OK if you only get two hours of sleep that day! This was a hard lesson for me to learn, especially since insomniacs aren’t supposed to nap. It would have been easier for me to be carefree about how little sleep I was getting if I knew I could take a nap if I needed it. Well, I finally had no choice one day but to function on two hours of sleep. But that was the turning point. Knowing I could if I had to lessened the stranglehold of fear and worry about “can’t get to sleep/must get some sleep/only have three more hours until I have to be up.” I could stop eyeballing the clock (a huge “don’t” for the sleep-challenged) and relax enough to actually fall asleep. Don’t be afraid to have to start your day on two hours of sleep. If you worry about it, it’s like those gag toy finger cuffs: the more you struggle, the tighter they get.
Hit the reset button on your brain. After I’ve been tossing and turning for a while, I’ll get up and read or watch TV for a half hour or an hour. Nothing stimulating, though. Oftentimes that — or even just a walk to the kitchen/bathroom for a drink of water — seems to be enough to get me out of that repetitive groove of fighting for sleep. It may seem strange to sacrifice an hour of sleep in order to get sleep (because insomniacs are supposed to go to bed and get up at the same times every day, establish a pattern), but it’s worked for me because I can spend hours upon hours just trying to get to sleep.
Maybe good sleep is a topic that can only be dear to an insomniac’s heart. But I think we, as a society, should be spending at least a third of the concern currently wasted on weight loss and maintenance on improving everyone’s sleep. To me, it’s clear that z’s are far more integral to health.
“OMG, you’re such a cow!”
Why, thank you.
I think cows are very pretty.
Also, the term “heifer” hits my ear in a really pleasing way.
Don’t you just love when attempted insults are really just compliments in disguise?
You can hear Velvet D’Amour’s take on being called a whale here.
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