Art and Body Love

for the last three years, i have been fortunate enough to take part in a few photography projects with local artist Girl Crimson. last year the theme was "Radical Bodies", and when asked "what makes your body radical?" this is what I wrote:

"What makes my body radical? The fact that everywhere I go, everywhere I've gone, I've been told that my body is not beautiful, not normal, not okay, not the right size, not the right shape. The only time I've been told that my body was "right" was when I started going to Weight Watchers about 6 years ago to change it. There, because I was trying to make my body different, smaller, "better", I was told that I was a good person, that what I was doing was good for me and would make me more dateable, employable, normal. What they didn't tell me was that I would also be more unhappy and unhealthy than I've ever been. Sure, my body would get smaller and perhaps more "normal", but I'd be miserable, I'd hate myself, I'd hate everyone else, and I'd hate the fact that my brain and my body didn't match up. When I learned to live outside the norm, to not desire thinness and a typical definition of "beauty", I finally felt beautiful for the first time. Did people stop telling me that I was abnormal, ugly, too big, the wrong shape? No. I just stopped caring and started learning that my body, my radical body, is fine and healthy and happy and beautiful just the way it is. So maybe what makes my body radical is my attitude towards it. I'm not sure. I just know that I am happy to give out big and friendly "fuck yous" to all of the people and media images and societal norms that tell me that my body is not acceptable"

working with Girl Crimson is an experience in beauty and body love, no matter what your body looks like or what history you have with your body. she finds and creates beauty and this year she's at it again with her new project: On The Body. i HIGHLY recommend that you check this shit out:

http://girlcrimson.blogspot.com/2011/12/on-body-revolution.html

have an amazing experience, support a local artist, find, create, and share beauty. GO.

"suddenly, my body"

i've been sick, so i've been watching a lot of TED talks.

this is worth your time, i promise.

go, watch.

on gyms and weight loss

weight is a funny thing. it always astounds me that it's considered socially acceptable (and even polite) to comment on the size and a person's body. TO THEIR FACE. more specifically, it is deemed a-okay to say to someone "wow, you've lost weight! you look great!" or to ask them "have you lost weight?", or better yet, to congratulate them - "you look like you've lost a ton of weight! good for you!". why is this okay? if i put on 10 or 20 pounds (or a "ton", as the case may be), why doesn't anyone ask about that publicly (aside from my mother, bless her heart)? it seems as though this intrusion into my physical history only goes one way - if i've lost weight. and believe me, i know that people mean well and they are genuinely happy for me and blah, blah, blah, but i still don't get it. my response when someone asks if i've lost weight is usually "i don't know, i don't weigh myself". my impulse is usually to say something along the lines of "why, would that make you feel better about me?" but i'm not into alienating friends and burning bridges with well-wishers (mostly). i'm curious to know how others, regardless of body shape or size, respond to these comments, particularly folks who tend towards anti-dieting and size acceptance. what's the appropriate response?

you see, i am interested because i've been getting these comments a heck of a lot lately. i recently joined a gym. let's talk about that. i've always loved cardio, particularly high intensity. i played soccer for years, i've always cycled (when my bike isn't being stolen - don't even get met started on bike theft, we could be here all night), i'm generally an active person and always have been. i've joined a gym in the past, but at that point in my life it was a very different experience. i was not in any way comfortable with my body or my appearance. i was trying to heal emotional and psychological wounds by dieting (weight watchers, specifically) and exercise. in doing this, i didn't learn anything about living a "healthy lifestyle" or making "better choices" (the official party lines of dieters). instead, i learned how to make self-loathing look like fun and optimism. i was never entirely comfortable at the gym, i always felt like i didn't belong, i was even too damn self conscious to run on a treadmill. i wanted to (i would even have dreams about running) and i knew that i was physically able, but i was still a large person and felt that it would just be too embarrassing. i felt like everyone was already looking at me, so i needed to just do my work out and get the hell out of there (so i could go home and tally how many extra "points" i was allowed to eat now that i'd sweat for an hour). all that to say, my last experience with a gym wasn't great.

recently, however, i joined a gym again, this time with a much different perspective. i'm in a different place in my life. i'm perfectly okay with my body and its size. now that cycling season is almost over and my summer yoga pass ended, the gym is a good way to keep moving through the winter, and moving is important to me. even with this perspective, though, it took me quite some time before i was comfortable running at the gym. all of those old fears of everyone looking at me, thinking "why does she bother?" came right back and it took some time before i said fuck it and started running. i did it though, and it's really fucking awesome. as a side effect of running (and cycling pretty intensely) at the gym, however, my body is changing. new muscles are developing, and i'm sure that i've lost some weight. and that feels strange (not physically, but socially). just like i love my body when it's bigger and stronger in different ways, i love my body now that it is changing. on the other hand, i am getting asked more and more "have you lost weight?!?" like i said, i am at a loss for how to respond to this question. yes, i probably have lost weight, but who the fuck cares? how is that in any way relevant to our current interaction? unless we are getting ready to go sky diving or rock climbing or something, why do you need to know if i've lost (or gained) weight? i don't want to go directly into a ranting fatty mode when people ask me this, but i also don't want to accept congratulations based on the size and shape of my body. i don't want to accept all of the value judgments that go long with congratulations (as if i'm doing an inherently "good" thing that i, and everyone else, should want to do, and if my body changes again, which it inevitably will, and i get bigger, i am doing an inherently "bad" thing).

i feel just as proud of my physical appearance now as i did 3 months ago. and i will feel just as proud 6 months from now. i don't want attention based on the size and shape of my body. just like i don't want the negative attention of little fuckers yelling "fat dyke" from passing cars, i don't want the (apparently) positive attention of comments such as "you look great! have you lost weight?". because then i just wonder - how bad did you think i looked before? if i get bigger, will you say "you look bad! have you gained weight?" of course, i really don't mind the "you look great!" part, but why is that always tied to my size? can we just agree to not comment on the size of each others' bodies?

i have hang ups, too. we all do.

i have had two recent experiences while getting ready to go somewhere that have left me feeling crazy, insecure, and less-than comfortable (one of these literally happened moments ago/is still happening). i put on an outfit and decide that it is too tight/loose/short/long/clingy/whatever. i just put on a t-shirt that i've had for literally 7 years and have worn maybe twice. it is an awesome t-shirt. why don't i wear it? it's clingy and the material is thin. i just looked in the mirror and thought to myself (out loud, because that's how i roll) "ugh, this makes me look fat and you can totally see my rolls. oh wait. i AM fat. i DO have rolls." it's about 40 degrees celsius outside and i was going to wear a 3/4 length button up shirt over this clingy t-shirt because, heaven forbid, people would see my rolls. luckily, i caught myself and have decided that i am going to wear this shirt to dinner because i like it, it is actually very comfortable, and i need to get over myself.

my mantra this evening is:
SO WHAT IF I LOOK FAT?
I AM FAT!

zombie, stutters, and moccasins

And now for something a little different: Some excerpts from a series of play by play emails I sent to a friend this morning. A little background: Her ceiling has been leaking, she is out of town, a plumber had to come today, so I came by to sit while they worked.


9:14am
i think i hear them coming down the stairs now.....
nope, just someone doing laundry. possibly the hippie from upstairs.
wait...ya it's the guy and the plumber. man, this guy is so awkward.
it's the same plumber from last week and he is still just as personable as before. pretty sure he's gonna try to murder me.
oh, the landlord guy just came back with a broom and plastic. definitely not enough plastic to be useful, but at least he's trying? he definitely had no friends in high school.
expect more uncomfortable email updates from the homefront

9:18am
plumber breathes like a zombie.
i am scared.

9:22am
you're definitely gonna want to wash your bath tub.
the plumber is swearing and grunting. looks like this'll be an all day kinda job

9:36am
now there's another man here.
he is wearing plaid shorts and moccasins and looks concerned.
he says "hmm. it's hard to tell where it's leakin' from"
uh. duh buddy.
now there are three of them in your bathroom scratching their heads
they gave me phone numbers:
plumber (a.k.a. zombie mouth breather) ### ### ####
landlord guy 1 (a.k.a. awkward mc stutters): ### ### ####
landlord guy 2: ### ### #### (in italy for the next two weeks, so he is useless apparently)

9:38am
i think awkward mc stutters and zombie mouth breather might fight. okay, maybe not fight but between the stuttering and the mumbling, neither has a clue what the other is saying and it *could* result in fisticuffs.
good thing i brought my camera. this shit's youtube gold.

9:52am
what kind of a plumber doesn't have WD40? i mean, really.
stutters is trying to clean around the zombie and he is RIGHT in his way. i really hope they fight.
apparently the guy upstairs doesn't have a shower curtain? i think that's what stutters said but who the fuck knows.
sorry about all of the emails. well, i'm not sorry because this should be a fucking sit com. not the situation because that's not funny, but this scenario. fucking awesome.

9:56am
so the zombie doesn't have an answering machine or a car.
he wants you to call if it starts leaking, but you can't leave a message and he can't get here to look at it.
stutters is going to pick the zombie up monday so he can finish the work.
then moccasins will redo the dry wall to fix the hole int he ceiling.
they are gone now, so this will be my last email. you're welcome for the minute by minute updates.

when friends diet

i've been thinking a lot lately about dieting. (absolutely) not about going on a diet myself, but about all of the people around me who seem to be perpetually on a diet, trying to lose weight. i find it very difficult to balance my role as a supportive friend with my anti-dieting beliefs. if a friend is engaged in an endeavor about which they feel proud and passionate, who am i to point out the flaws that i see in their endeavor? at the same time, the idea of dieting as a prescription for fat folks (and non-fat folks, and everyone in between) has implications for me and makes value judgments and assumptions about the way i choose to live my life (those assumptions being: fat is bad. fat is unhealthy. you are fat, therefore, you should be trying to change this fact about yourself just like i am). in that respect, i feel that i have every right to feel and express disagreement. it's a tricky subject to approach and i still haven't figured out how to do it in a kind and supportive way that also feels good for me.

generally, when a friend is dieting, the conversation at a get-together goes something like this:
me: hey, did you try these (insert name of delicious food here)? they are really yummy.
friend: i know, they look so, so good. i'd love one, but i can't eat them
me: why? you're not feeling well? do you have an allergy?
friend: no, i'm on a diet. that food isn't on my plan (and/or) i've eaten all of the food i'm allowed to eat for today.
me: oh. uh....so what happens if you eat more food?
friend: that would be cheating. i don't want to do that after i've worked so hard not cheating all week.
me: oh. well, uh congratulations on your achievement. hey look! cheesecake! ....oh. sorry.

when someone tells me that they want to eat something but they are not allowed to (specifically if the food in question isn't even something deep-fried or full of salt, MSG, aspartame, and other shit) i have a strong negative reaction. and usually the conversation continues to the dieting friend saying something along the lines of "yeah, i haven't had (insert name of other delicious and even sometimes nutritious food here) in months". if you are hungry, you should eat. that's your body telling you it needs something. if you choose not to eat, sure, you may lose weight, you may even feel better about yourself, but that doesn't change the fact that you are denying something that your body wants. i certainly agree that we should all avoid loading up on only deep-fried snickers bars, but we're not talking about those types of extremes here.

and then when i get beyond the you-are-depriving-yourself thoughts, i go to the WHY-are-you-depriving-yourself thoughts. what is the ultimate goal here? to lose weight. to get smaller. to be healthier. to become more desirable. to fit in. to feel better. to look different. why? why not eat what you want, when you want it and learn to listen to your body and what it wants? why not think critically about the types of foods we eat, why we eat them, and what types of foods our bodies desire? i can guarantee you that if you do this, you will find yourself eating more whole, healthful foods. you will, over time, find yourself avoiding repulsive, pre-packaged, imitation foods. you will also find yourself indulging in a friday night bowl (or pint) of ice cream from time to time and you will be damn happy that you did so. your body will find its own balance and you will feel better, stronger, healthier, and happier. and guess what? you may also still be fat. and that's okay. i do know how this whole crazy cycle feels. i dieted for years and i was that person who didn't have enough points left to enjoy a piece of birthday cake at a friend's party (and if i indulged anyway, felt the feelings of guilt and shame that went along with it). i know how i felt then (even after losing 60 pounds) and i know how i feel now (after gaining some of that weight back now, years later). i can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that i am a healthier, happier, stronger, more stable person without the crazy dieting cycle in my life.

of course, i don't say all of these things in that moment at a party or in a one-on-one interaction when a friend tells me that they are not allowed to eat because they are dieting. i haven't found a way to say all of this and not sound like a mega-bitch. how does one act as a supportive friend and at the same time refuse to capitulate on firmly held beliefs?

Sexting about Food

I always thought that cell phones were obnoxious and unnecessary. Text messaging, to me, was one of the primary problems with our world, or at least with our modes of communication. I was adamantly against getting a cell phone and you could be damn sure that if I *did* get a cell phone, it would be used for emergency phone calls only.

Well, last summer I was traveling out east to visit a friend and because I was traveling through Toronto during the G20 protests, I thought it would be important to have a way of contacting folks, particularly my brother, who was meeting me downtown. Shortly after obtaining my phone, I reluctantly began text messaging as a way to convey short, but important thoughts, opinions, and plans. And you know what? I don't regret it. Below is a text message conversation I had just moments ago that proves, for me, the necessity of this mode of communication.

friend: you know what would be good right now? fried veggie bologna sandwich with mustard, and plain lays or dill pickle chips...drooool

me: I'm not a huge fan of veg bologna, but with some cheese and tomoato and some chips and a pickle...mmmm

friend: Mmmm...i know what you mean about the veg bologna, but nothing else is quite right....except real bologna, but that's not going to happen lol

me: true. mmmm....or some old cheddar and provolone...mmmm

friend: with tomato...

me: of course. and on spelt sourdough

friend: Haha...are we sexting about food?

me: i think so

friend: let's cook dinner next time i'm in town.

And this, folks is undeniable PROOF that text messaging is an important and noble practice.

Don't be fancy, just get dancey

Don't judge.

Happy Friday.

Hey look, a fat dyke!

When I walk down the street (particularly in the vicinity of the universities), I let music shoot through my tiny plastic ear buds and directly into my brain.  It used to be to drown them out because their words hurt.  Their words were, to me, a realistic appraisal of my self worth.  The words they yelled confirmed for me that the world did, indeed, notice that I was fat.  Until they yelled it, it was something I thought I could (and should) conceal.  I thought that if I could just prevent others from noticing my fatness, I could prevent them from experiencing some sort of negative reaction based on the size of my body.  Then the music protected me from feeling the hurt that resulted from their inane, self-righteous, to-loud words, shouted from the cowardly confines of their mommy and daddy's brand-fucking=spanking new minivan.  Now, however, the music serves a different purpose.  It blocks the yelling still, but the purpose of this blockage has changed - now it is to prevent me from wasting the time and energy it takes to get pissed off.  Yes, the world has noticed that I'm fat; there's no hiding that fact.  What bothers me is that their words imply a twisted ownership over my body and my identity.  The songs don't block the possibility of emotional hurt - I'm really, really over that.  The music simply saves me time because, hell, getting pissed off, wound up, irritated - these things are exhausting.


One particular day I was walking home from a meeting at the university.  As always, I left campus, turned on my ipod, untangled my headphones, did the standard keys-wallet-bus pass check, and plugged my ears with the music.  While I walked, I sang along (in my head, of course) and thought about what I would make for lunch.  Lily Allen's words "fuck you, fuck you very, very much" rang through my ears and over the blare of this very appropriate song, I heard the words "FAT DYKE" emerge from a passing vehicle that was driving too fast and was filled with more testosterone and self-righteousness than anyone knew what to do with.  My first reaction was "well, you got it half-right, you fucking little shit. I sure am fat, but dyke? You're slightly off the mark there". As the van drove away filled with the fervent laughter of barely-out-of-adolescence-and-too-much-free-time, I had the desire to sit down with these young douchenozzles and have a conversation.


I know, it would probably take every ounce of my energy and self control to not kick them squarely in the nuts, but upon overcoming that desire, I'd like to talk to them.  What made them think I'm a dyke? My awesome hair? My entirely not weather-appropriate high tops? I mean, the fat thing I get.  By their standards (which are based mostly, if not entirely, on the standards they see on whatever dumb-fuck T.V. shows they watch or the dip-shit gossip magazines they buy "for their girlfriends"), I am not worthy.  I'm fat, and rather than a simple description like short or tall, fat means something entirely different to these little pricks.  Far means greedy, slovenly, disgusting, ugly, unhealthy, and sure-as-shit not attractive.  i'm really, really okay with the fact that these young men are not attracted to me sexually because, fuck, not only would I break them in half, I'd likely blow their stunted, closed, little fucked-up minds all to hell.  Let's face it - their mothers would hate me.  But really, I'd like to ask these boys some questions.  Why did they feel that it was important to announce to the entire street filled with noon hour traffic that there was what they thought to be a fat dyke walking down the street?  Is this breaking news? Is this not a normal occurrence? I mean, if you see a panda bear waltzing down the street in the middle of the day, you might want to notify someone, but a fat dyke? I just don't get it.


I don't think I ever will.

Fuck.That.Noise.

First off: introductions.

My name is Katie.  I've been blogging for years, but have been doing so without much purpose.  You know the blog, young person talks about daily life in a mildly humorous manner, friends read, some folks even comment.  The thing is, when a blog is entirely personal (that is, a semi-daily journal), it can become difficult to write about real things.  You know, like things that go beyond "today I missed the bus and then my cat SHIT ON THE FLOOR".  Those things have their place and they'll certainly creep on into this blog as well.  The thing is, there is so much that I want to write about that just doesn't *fit* anywhere.

What will I be writing about? Well, still not entirely clear.  This blog will be 100% fat positive, that's for damn sure.  In much of my life, I feel the need to censor myself, to not disturb the flow of conversation and the comfort of familiar relationships.  But sometimes? Sometimes I want to say more.  Sometimes I want to yell. Sometimes I want to take a friend by the shoulders, shake them, and scream "YOU DON'T NEED TO HATE YOURSELF".  This self-loathing is part of our experience, our shared existence.  Women in particular are told that there is an ideal and if you don't fit that ideal, you don't fit anywhere.  Even people who recognize that this ideal is sheer bullshit tend to make self deprecating comments ("I know I shouldn't wear these jeans, but..."), or worse, hurtful and unnecessary comments about others ("Did you see that shirt she was wearing?").  Then there are the comments directed right at me.  You know the lines, the lines that exist to make other people more comfortable with you.  Lines like "You're not THAT fat" and "But you still look good!" and "It's fine for you to be fat, but I need to be x, y, z".  To all of this I say Fuck.That.Noise.  You are who you are and your worth is not defined by your weight, the size of your jeans, or even the fucking length of your goddamn toenails.  I don't want you to tell me what you had for lunch, what you're going to have for dinner, how many kilometers you walked, or what new fucking diet you are on.  I want you to tell me about you.  I want you to be happy, to love yourself, and to GET THE FUCK OVER IT.

I'm going to end this rant there because there is so much more to say.  Suffice it to say that topics related to fat positivity, body love, fatphobia, and sizeism will be discussed here on a regular basis.  Other topics that might crop up include: gender, sexuality, my cat, feminism (gasp! the other F word!), heterosexism, and possibly a sprinkling of book/article reviews. Oh, and cupcakes.