if you feel compelled to tell me "you're not THAT fat", you are totally missing the point. xo.
Fat – Any of a large number of oily compounds that are widely found in plant and animal tissues and serve mainly as a reserve source of energy. In mammals, fat, or adipose tissue, is deposited beneath the skin and around the internal organs, where it also protects and insulates against heat loss. Fat is a necessary, efficient source of energy. An ounce of fat contains more than twice as much stored energy as does an ounce of protein or carbohydrates and is digested more slowly, resulting in the sensation of satiety after eating. It also enhances the taste, aroma, and texture of food.
The American Heritage® Science Dictionary Copyright © 2005 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company.
Fat. It is insulation. A source of energy. Tastes good in food. Ooooh, scary.
However, if you listen to the way people alternately bandy about and shy away from this word, it is also apparently an epidemic (pandemic?) in North America. To most people, “fat” is short hand for low self-esteem, moral failing, lack of discipline, and/or being poor, smelly, greedy, lazy, unattractive (the list goes on). Fat means you are killing yourself softly with that cake. It means you’re costing the tax-payers money. It means you wear oversized t-shirts and granny panties. It means that no one could ever, ever want to date you or see you naked. It means you don’t even want to see yourself naked.
Bah.
I’m fat. I am also beautiful, intelligent, fashionable, creative, well-educated, a good mama, a reasonably good friend, generous, a decorating dynamo and a great kisser. I have no shortage of suitors. In fact, you might say that I’m fat with talent and attention. Lucky me!
I also worry continuously about whether I will be accepted by this person or that person or if someone is judging me by my weight.
That, my darlings, is a heavy weight to bear.
For women, appearance still, and sadly, signals our value in society. The feminist revolution has been far, far outshadowed by the sexual revolution which, it seems to me, says to woman that you can do what you want with your sexuality – have orgasms, kiss girls, give head, have threesomes – as long as the male gaze finds it pleasing. So even though we are now supposedly living in post-feminist times, studies still tell us that the thinner we are, the more money we will make, the richer mates we will attract, and the longer we will live. Being fat means that we are worth less. It even allows people to call into question our worth as mothers. My sister, I kid you not, was once accused of being an unfit mother because she is “overweight”. She, in turn, suffocated the offender with a double-cream donut. I wish.
But, oh yes, fat is unhealthy. I’ll concede the point. Diabetes, heart disease, yadda yadda yadda. But does anyone besides me every wonder if people use health risks as an excuse to bash fat people? Does anyone remember phrenology? I’m sorry (I’m not) but all the ‘for your health’ angles are killing me. You’ve just found a medical basis to shame the fatties – as if the world hadn’t already taken on that task with the glee and consistency of schoolyard bully.
Honestly. When I worry about being fat, I don’t worry about my health. I am ridiculously healthy (thanks Mom and Dad). I worry about my appearance and I worry that people are misperceiving my character. I worry that people think I am undisciplined, unintelligent, unattractive, lazy, and make love to cupcakes all day, every day, when in fact that only happens on Sundays.
In fact, the only person I know who really, truly, madly, deeply loves food, fantasizes about food, and relishes food to the point of obsession is also one of the teeny-tiniest people I know. Honest to god, I have never met anyone who loves, and I mean really, really loves food the way she does. It is an actual relationship. She refers to poutine as her lover. She had a serious falling out with her mother who had the temerity to criticize her cheese budget – yet her size two body defies gravity and basic metabolic theory.
I asked her about it once, and she said “It is just good genes.” At that moment, I fell in love.
This is who I emphatically don’t love: people who are self-righteous about being thin and act like they have discovered the Holy Fucking Anti-Fat Grail. People who do all kinds of horrificly unhealthy things to their bodies, and then talk to me about my health. The issue isn’t health. You just don’t like looking at my big, fat, fabulous ass. I have the solution: either look away, or go look in a mirror and say these words: I am a bigot.
Let me tell you my word of the day: sizeist. Yes, there is an actual word for it. I laughed my ass off (oops, no I didn’t) when I discovered this fact. Kate Harding, and all the fat acceptance bloggers out there, you rock.
Hey fat girl
Yeah, I called you fat
Look at me, I’m skinny
Never stopped me from getting busy
- Digital Underground “The Humpty Dance”
In a previous post, I surveyed some of my girlfriends, big, small, and in-between, to find out if they asked the men in their lives the question that strikes fear in male hearts: Does My Ass Look Fat in These Jeans?
The thin women in my survey all admitted to asking if they looked fat and sought reassurance that they were not; the more generously proportioned knew the answer and thought it unwise or pointless to ask for confirmation.
And you know what? I don’t think any of my skinny friends have body dysmorphia. I don’t think they think that they are bigger than they are, or less attractive than they are, or even that their weight is the bottom line for all that they are. I just think that we all – fat, skinny, and in-between, male, female and in-between – have absorbed the cruel, soul-crushing message that fat is absolutely unattractive and a moral failing.
So my skinny friends probably don’t have body dysmorphia. I, on the other hand, have sexy dysmorphia. I think that I am sexier and more luscious than the world will acknowledge. Sigh.
Still, I’m not going to lie to you and pretend that I am okay with being fat. I’m struggling with it. But whether or not I’m comfortable is beside the more important point that being fat does not mean that you are a useless waste of (a lot) of space. Nearly half of the population of North America is “overweight” or “obese”, and presumably a good chunk of that chunky demographic are paying taxes and getting laid and failing to frighten small children with the sheer force of their unattractiveness. .
So here is my humble suggestion: let’s get over our fat-phobia and our sizeism and just accept ourselves and others the way we are.
Yes, you, fat girl. Love yourself the way you are. I’ll try if you will.
You are wonderful, attractive, smart, great with puppies, superb at shelving books, a dynamo in the sack, and a killer poker player, right this minute, just as you are, and you should stop abusing yourself with the idea that you are somehow ‘less’ than all you could be if you were thin*.
Just love yourself the way you are, right now. You don’t even have to feel the love. Let’s take the approach that love is a verb, so it is what you do. If love is what you do, then feed yourself food that is good for your body, and enjoy it. Dress hot. Don’t disparage yourself or complain about your life. And don’t be scared of the word fat. Claim it. Use it. Ask your loved ones to use it, too, because it is just an adjective. Let’s make it so.
While I preach fat-acceptance, I’m not going to promise to be fat forever. I am going to be completely honest and admit that I am not necessarily happy to have arrived at this destination, but hey, I booked the tickets and I am determined to enjoy the trip.
While we’re on the topic of tickets and air travel (we weren’t), I do think that if you need two seats on a plane that you should pay extra. Airlines should definitely pro-rate airfares to the amount of space you take up. Skinny people ought to get discounts for only taking up half a seat. It is only fair.
Please feel free to address your emails and comments to Fat Girl. I’ll love you long time. Be nice to fat people.
* You must, you absolutely must, read Kate Harding’s “The Fantasy of Being Thin“
Who are we talking about with the poutine? I have seen both Sol and Heather with it, borderline erotic! haha
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The Good Girl Confessions
I’ve been thinking about sex.Hey. You were too, so just keep that judgment in check.[Note: if you are my mother, you should probably stop reading right about now. Two lines ago would have been even better.]I’ve been thinking about feminism, the sexual revolution, rainbow parties, love, Girls Gone Wild, sexual empowerment, and who I am, really.It suddenly occurred to me – and pardon me if this should have been patently obvious by now – that an important part of being a sexually liberated, empowered woman who truly owns her sexuality is the freedom to be non-sexual. …
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I’ve been thinking about sex.Hey. You were too, so just keep that judgment in check.[Note: if you are my mother, you should probably stop reading right about now. Two lines ago would have been even better.]I’ve been thinking about feminism, the sexual revolution, rainbow parties, love, Girls Gone Wild, sexual empowerment, and who I am, really.It suddenly occurred to me – and pardon me if this should have been patently obvious by now – that an important part of being a sexually liberated, empowered woman who truly owns her sexuality is the freedom to be non-sexual. …
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I’ve been thinking about sex.Hey. You were too, so just keep that judgment in check.[Note: if you are my mother, you should probably stop reading right about now. Two lines ago would have been even better.]I’ve been thinking about feminism, the sexual revolution, rainbow parties, love, Girls Gone Wild, sexual empowerment, and who I am, really.It suddenly occurred to me – and pardon me if this should have been patently obvious by now – that an important part of being a sexually liberated, empowered woman who truly owns her sexuality is the freedom to be non-sexual. …
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On Risk, Relationships and GD Patriarchy. A Polemic.
I am a risk-taker in relationships. In addition to being a risk-taker, I’m doggedly committed and don’t give up on a teetering romance until I’m well and truly and certainly done with it. As a result, my friends, family – and, I’m sure, more than one potential suitor – sigh and shudder and worry and are not-so-secretly convinced that I put myself on the line because I’m lonely, fat, a single mom and therefore should be lacking in self-esteem due to my apparent unfuckability (oh, if only y’all knew) and desperation for the security of a relationship. …
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