untitled post that's not really about anything

i really do wish that i were better at posting here. i mostly think of posting when i'm sitting at work, avoiding the things i should be doing (which is what i'm doing right now). but then i start to think and my posts become too general, too over-analyzed, so i just don't post anything.

lately, i have been feeling the lack of fat community in my life. well, this has been salient and pretty consuming since july, when i returned from nolose. when i think about that space, that time, those people, i just cry because i don't have it in my regular life and when i re-create that space in my head, my heart aches. it's so damn hard not to have folks in my daily life who GET IT. i have amazing friends and some of them are amazing allies. sometimes my friends say and do things that are so supportive, so encouraging, and i appreciate those instances so, so much. there are other times when things come up and i realize in a flash that no, they just can't get parts of it. and that's okay, we have different experiences, we are different people. it has taken years for me to allow myself to reflect on and understand things about my past, things that i am still trying to understand. not having a space to bring those thoughts and experiences is so hard. it is so isolating. i'm working on reaching out to community, while also fully engaging in my current relationships because when it comes down to it, although relationships are hard and sometimes they don't work out and when they don't work out it is so fucking hard, i am damn lucky. most of the time, on a really bad day, i have someone to turn to. and when i don't, i have books and my bed and a pretty flexible job(s).

i've also been exploring phd opportunities. my path just seems to be leading that way, and i can't ignore that. so many things seem to be coming together and leading me towards pursuing a phd. the path isn't clear - for example, there are no fat studies programs around here. but i am doing everything in my power to make a clearer path, to make space for myself, my ideas, and addressing fat oppression in academia. i have been so fortunate to find a couple of academics willing to work with me, and if things continue to go well, and if i can figure out the money end of things, this might just happen.

in the mean time, i am continuing to work a lot, continuing to have a hard time turning down work opportunities, and trying my best to take care of my body in a way that makes sense and feels good. this is quite a challenge at times. i'm working on it, though. i'm quite certain that no one reads here, so maybe i should start keeping this as a journal to myself. i've considered framing this space as letters to myself, as i've been prone to do in personal journals and writing in the past. maybe i'll start doing that.

dear katie:

just keep trying.

love,

me/you

on dresses and tailoring

a few weeks ago, i finally made my first eshakti order. i was SO happy to go online and order some new dresses from a company that carries my size and doesn't charge me extra for being fat. i got three dresses as part of a sale and used a first-time customer coupon, so all three dresses were around $100 with shipping. on monday evening, i had a knock at my door, and it was a delivery person with my dresses. i was so fucking excited, i signed for them, paid the customs charge, and ripped open the box. i pulled out the first dress and thought "hm, that looks a bit on the small side", then i pulled out the other two dresses and started to cry. there was NO way they were going to fit on my body. 

of course, i should have waited to try them on. i had company coming for dinner any minute, i was in the middle of vacuuming up cat hair, i was sweaty and hot and flustered and hadn't started making dinner. but i couldn't wait. i tried them all on in a hurry, tried to wedge myself into three dresses that were clearly too small. the material was hot and scratchy, my arms were marked with red from trying to shove them in the too-small arm holes, i almost ripped the seam on one of them trying to get it off. it was terrible. i was in tears, sweaty, and upset. 

see, trying on clothes is always a crap shoot. generally, though, i am really good at looking at something on a hanger and knowing if it will go on my body. if not, i don't bother. and even when i do try things on that don't fit, it doesn't matter, i'm just there to try it, if it doesn't fit, i just put it back or grab a bigger size (which normally they don't have - i am about an 18, so i can *sometimes* shop in stores that go up to a size 18, but their largest size is usually too small and there's no going up from there). for some reason, though, having these dresses in my home, trying them on in my room where i get dressed every day - dressed in clothes that i searched out and tried on and know fit on my body - and having them not even almost fit? it fucked me up. i've been thinking about it for days and this is what i've come up with for reasons why:

1) i was just disappointed. i was excited about these new dresses - i NEVER find dresses that fit me in stores - and then they just didn't fit. i was SO looking forward to wearing one to work the next day, after being home from work for days, sick with terrible allergies. i rarely get to explore my femme-y side because dresses never fit me properly and i have little patience for shopping.

2) it reminded me of all those years i spent forcing myself into clothes that just didn't fit. particularly my high school uniforms, which i had no control over (my parents bought them and they were expensive, so i couldn't get new things as my body changed. i was also too afraid to communicate or even find out my actual size, so nothing ever fit). every day i had to wear either pants or a kilt that were so tight they ripped into my waist and left hot, red marks that are now scars. it's been many years since then, many years of becoming okay with my size and not denying when my body changes or when i need a bigger size. for so many years i had no idea what size i was and NOTHING fit - the uniform i wore all day was always too small and the clothes i wore in my off time were way too big.

3) i was just hot and rushed and anxious about having people over. even though they were close friends, having people in my home just ignites social anxiety and i can't always control it.

so then i turned to solving this problem. sending the dresses back isn't really an option. as a canadian customer, it's just too expensive. i contacted a local tailor. she is a fat woman herself who works out of her home and lives close by. she seems really nice and was recommended to me by another fat queer activist in the community. setting up an appointment with her, though, triggered the same fuckedupedness as before. i realized yesterday that i have been weighed and measured too fucking often in my life, usually against my will. paying someone to measure me feels wrong. i KNOW rationally that she is a safe person, she is there to find a way to make these clothes feel good on my body. she is an ally. she is friendly. but something about setting up an appointment to be measured is fucking with my head. i've never worked with a seamstress/tailor/dressmaker before. it should be an exciting experience, but i am absolutely dreading it. 

my appointment is friday morning. here's hoping i can force myself to actually go to the appointment. i really want these dresses fixed so i can wear them, and i SHOULD be looking forward to meeting with someone who has the skills to make that happen. now i just need to get over my own shit and make it a positive experience. 

when conversations turn fatphobic

last night i met up for dinner with some old-ish friends who i went to grad school with. it's really nice to stay in touch with these women. we have a lot of great conversation filled with humour and critical thought. at the same time, though, it becomes very difficult to stay engaged when our differences in experience and viewpoint are remarkably loud and glaringly bright. i can handle a good difference of opinion - it's what keeps things interesting and makes for interesting conversations. what i can't handle is when that difference has real implications for my perceived worth and therefore, my well-being.

last night, two of us arrived at the same time, and as we were settling into our table, a third member of our group came to join us. as she approached, the person who arrived with me said "hey! you look so skinny! wow!" i actually didn't know how to respond. i mean, it's not MY body she was commenting on, it really didn't involve me at all. but i can't help but wonder. would she ever say "hey katie! you look so fat! wow!" in a similar, positive way? if my body changed (which it frequently does) and i became smaller, would she comment on it in a positive way? if i got fatter again, would she comment in a negative way? likely not. this body commentary tends to happen one way - when someone is perceived as skinnier/smaller than before.

and for the person who "looked so skinny" - what implications might this have had for her? maybe she's been ill. maybe she's felt pressure to be smaller for her upcoming wedding. maybe she is suffering from stress-induced weight loss. maybe she didn't even notice and couldn't care less. the point is that we don't know. i can't fathom commenting on the size of another person's body, and i particularly can't fathom making a non-neutral statement about another person's body size. in a situation like this, i tend not to respond. it's not my body that was commented on, i wasn't asked my opinion, i don't know how that felt for the person at whom the body commentary was directed. so i kept my mouth shut and swallowed my discomfort.

later in the conversation, i was talking a bit about my experiences at NOLOSE and my time in Portland.  we got on the topic of bodies and fatness. i use the word fat to talk about fat bodies, which i know isn't a comfortable term for everyone (the other three women with me are not fat). throughout this conversation, though, the only word they used was "obese". from what i gathered, they were using "obese" to mean superfat most of the time (and therefore not including me in this category). i've been told i'm not fat before (by non-fat folks trying to make me feel better about myself or some shit), but this seems to have been a way for them to exclude me from their negative (healthist) comments while still allowing me to call myself fat. the level of fuckedupedness here is alarming. i made it clear that this word is so fucking medicalized and according to the BMI, i am "morbidly obese", so let's maybe re-think this word, but that didn't seem to make a difference.

i KNOW that this stuff is new and maybe uncomfortable for some folks. i KNOW that they probably mean well. i KNOW that they don't get to have these conversation often, so they don't "practice" this dialogue. but i just can't fucking handle it. i can't be the person to educate them. i can't (always) confront these things in a way that is articulate and also sensitive. i don't know if it's even worth my time to try because at the end of these conversations, i just feel like shit and nothing has changed. and maybe nothing needs to change. maybe i just need to choose my conversations, choose my battles. i have a hard time thinking about walking away from relationships that are unhealthy for me in a fatphobic way. being fat is just one part of who i am, and there are many other ways in which i connect with people. but i do have a fatphobia bullshit threshold that i am constantly trying to navigate in a way that is caring, but also meets my needs.

nolose 2013: messy reflections and re-entry

after tossing it around in my mind and going back and forth on it for months, i decided to go to NOLOSE again this year. i was really leaning towards not going, but decided to give it one more chance. last year, although powerful and enlightening and impactful, was also disappointing. socially speaking, i didn't feel connected with the community last year. i think there are many, many reasons for this - some of them in my control, some of them not - but suffice it to say i was left feeling disconnected and isolated from a community that i thought of as "my people" in many ways. and i left thinking: if i can't even connect with "my people" then who the fuck can i connect with?

long story short, i'm really glad i gave it another chance. socially speaking, this conference was miles better for me. i felt connected to individuals, i felt connected to the community, i had some amazing one-on-one and group conversations outside of the sessions (which didn't really happen at all for me last year), i made what i hope will be lasting connections, and i came home feeling like i had folks who Understood and who i could/can contact if i need support. this was really amazing and also really difficult, which i will explain further.

the positive:
feeling like part of something, feeling connected, feeling held and witnessed in a way that i have never felt and didn't even know was possible. i met lovely people, we connected socially, outside of the more formal conversation that happens inside sessions (which is a format that's much easier for me to engage with. the unstructured social time usually finds me slipping back to my room and not emerging until the next session). i also feel like i came home with a fat army of people who i could contact if i'm having a hard time and who would offer support and understanding in a way that folks in my real life just can't. and in large part, this has been the case - in the couple of weeks after the conference, i have been in contact with a few folks, mostly around the issue of re-entry and the fucked up shit that comes along with it. i can sort of already feel that connection slipping, which is scary, but i know that i also need to put in my end of the relationship in order to keep those conversations happening throughout the year. because, truly, i don't think i can survive and i certainly can't thrive without them.

which brings me to my next point, the negative:
feeling so connected to the community this year allowed me to let a part of my guard down. while i was at the conference, a part of my well-built and comfortable guard began to soften and release and that felt really good but also really scary. it became most scary when the conference came to a close. i actually wasn't even aware of this guard-softening until the day after the conference ended, when i went to leave the hotel for the first time since arriving. i felt so unsafe and unprotected. i wasn't expecting it and it was so intense i didn't know how to navigate it. because i was leaving the hotel to explore Portland with a fellow (awesome) noloser who i'd met that weekend, i was able to put that terrified feeling aside, protect myself, engage further with the nolose community, and have an amazing day. it seemed as though everywhere we went, we ran into folks from nolose and the conversations we'd started continued, new conversations emerged, hugs were given, lunch was consumed, everyone was happy, i felt good. then it ended. then i had to go back to the hotel, grab my stuff, and go to the airport. and i had a proper meltdown.

leaving that hotel for good, going to the airport, and facing the reality of leaving the bubble that i hadn't even realized i was in was and is so fucking hard. i've been home for 2 weeks and i still am struggling. i am having a hell of a time with re-entry, and though i've mostly got to the point where i can function - go to work, do my laundry, take care of myself, meet most deadlines - the off time is still so messy. i've been cocooning since a few days after i got home. i felt like i got hurt, jostled, badly wounded, in those first few days home and reacted by withdrawing, self-protecting, disappearing. i'm not sure how to come back or if i really want to, to be honest. i'm still in the middle of that and i'm not sure where the end of it is or what it might look like. i just have no idea.

in trying to process this for myself, i've put words to what happened sort of like this: i spend most of my time in my head. i think, i over-analyze, i monitor myself and my world, i am hyper-aware and hyper-process-oriented. i spend almost no time outside of that - let's call it my safety zone. at nolose, without realizing it, i started to move from my head to my heart. in those few days, i let myself leave my head and step tentatively into my heart and my gut. i experienced what that feels like and i may have even begun to put both feet inside my heart, rather than just a tentative toe. and then i left the bubble and without realizing it, i was in my heart and everything was raw and painful and confusing and i couldn't manage and needed to get back in my head. while this is happening, i'm recognizing that it isn't "healthy" to be in my head all the time, but it's a place that is usually pretty safe for me. so now i'm standing here, naked, raw, and lost, with one foot in my heart, one foot in my head, off balance and about to fall over and once i fall, i'm not sure that i'll ever stop falling and if i do stop, i'm not sure where i'll land. and what if i land in my heart? and what if i land in my head and can't ever get out again? and what if there's a third option and i land there and everything's not okay? and what if there is no fall? what if i'm just stuck here like this forever? what if i can't handle that? and, and, and?

so, fuck. there's some words.

day 4

day four with no refined sugar is a tough one. last time i did this no sugar thing (just last week), i made it to day 4 and then i had a bunch of sugar. this time, however, i feel better. only marginally so, but still, better is better. at the very least, my face is clearing up and i am sleeping amazingly well, so i can't argue with that. those are my main goals: get rid of acne, and sleep. so far so good.

the sugar i've consumed has been organic cane juice (in some cookies), and a bit of honey (in rice pudding i made). i'm not so concerned with these unrefined sugars, and maybe eventually i will see benefit in removing them from my routine as well. but for now at least, it's the nasty, addictive stuff that i'm concerned about. the stuff that causes me to climb the walls with cravings (though, less so now than a week ago), the stuff that impacts my ability to turn my brain off, lie still, and go to sleep. that's the stuff i need out of my life.

the best part is that this hasn't triggered any nasty body/food/dieting stuff in me (yet?). for that, i am happy. surprised, but happy.

maybe i'm over the worst-of-it jitters and cravings? i can only hope (but won't get those hopes up to high because it could still get worse).

my mantra with myself right now is simply: gentle & patient, gentle & patient, gentle & patient.  

Oh, sugar

I call myself an intuitive eater (funny story: my counsellor recently asked me if that was a religious practice. uh...no, it's not). I didn't invent this term, it doesn't belong to me, it's just something I do. I eat what I feel like, I eat what my body tells me it wants, and I eat what my brain and heart tell me they want (i.e. sometimes I want ice cream for dinner and that's cool). People say to me all the time "oh, I could never do that! I'd eat cookies all day and I'd gain 100 pounds!". No you wouldn't. At first, you may eat a lot of cookies, and that's okay. But eventually, you learn to listen to your body and you realize how foods make you feel (eating only cookies will not make you feel good long term, I promise). Eating a bunch of raw spinach with some toasted sunflower seeds makes my body feel really happy. Eating a turkey sandwich makes my body feel happy. Eating ice cream sometimes makes my body feel happy. For years, this has worked for me and has felt really awesome.

Lately, though, I've come to realize that there are certain things that do not react well with my body. A big one for me is sugar. I have acne as an almost-30-year-old. I didn't have acne all through adolescence, but in my mid-twenties, little by little, I developed an "Acne Problem". There are other things that indicate to me my body's intolerance of things, sugar in particular, but right now acne is the most salient thing. Now, I love me some sugar. Telling myself that I CAN'T eat something, particularly something I like, feels...not good. Not good at all. As someone who was a chronic dieter for years and years, food restrictions trigger all of the negative body shit that came along with my life in the dieting world. Immediately, my brain goes into that space and that makes me want ALL OF THE SUGAR RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I SAID SO.

Now, if I profess to eat intuitively, and something makes my body feel not good (and also makes my face extremely uncomfortable), why would I continue to eat it? It takes so.much.work. to remind myself that this has nothing to do with the size or shape of my body, it has to do with how I feel. It has to do with respecting my body and myself enough to feel good. Just as wearing a bathing suit in public and feeling great about myself for doing it feels like a way to show respect to my body, avoiding foods that make me feel like shit should also be a sign of respect for my body. I need to remember that.

The other fucked up part of this is that sugar is SO addictive. I am 100% addicted to sugar. I experience intense physical withdrawal when I stop eating sugar, and combined with the psychological shit that goes with food restriction, I'm a bit of a hot mess when I try to go off of sugar. By the second day I find myself screaming (inside my head, mostly) HOW IS THIS EVEN WORTH IT GIVE ME SUGAR OH MY GOD WHY WOULD I DEPRIVE MYSELF LIKE THIS WHYYYY?!? It's ugly.

So I'm going to write about it. I'm going to do my best because I deserve that, my body deserves that. I am probably going to misstep, give in to intense cravings, and eat sugar (I've been at this for over a week now and am back to "Day 1 With No Sugar" as of this morning), and that's okay. I will be gentle and patient with myself because that's all I can do. I will not freak out when I have an acne outbreak after not eating sugar, because my body will need time to detox and catch up, and that's okay.

Patience. I need a lot of it.

I am going to try to journal a bit of this process here (reserving the..er...uglier stuff for my own personal journal, you're welcome). Tracking all of this is difficult, but it's important to know what things in my life impact my ability to take care of this shit. If I know the things that make this more difficult for me, I can avoid those things if possible, or manage them more effectively. So, here it goes. Again.

ok, so valentine's day.

until this year, valentine's day has always just passed as another day. nothing notable, nothing special, no mention of any fabricated bullshit holiday. this year, for some reason, it felt like EVERYONE WAS TALKING ABOUT FUCKING VALENTINE'S DAY. and it's no because more of my friends are partnered this year. facebook was filled with mentions of self-love, owning one's singlehood, reminders that we are all special and need to love ourselves today because OMG IT'S LOVE DAY, GUYS.

so here's the thing: it's still bullshit.

i work very hard at self-love. i put a lot of energy into self-love every single goddamn day. someone demanding that i love myself on a day that is made for couples to buy each other shit, go out to eat, and buy each other shitty chocolate has nothing to do with my self-love process. i don't need a reminder that it's okay to be single and that i need to love and take care of myself, as if without this validation i may not realize that my relationship status need not have an impact on my worth or happiness.

i know that this is all well-intentioned, and i know that these public professions of self and friend love have more to do with folks reminding themselves of this as part of their own process. my issue is that this over-the-top lovedayfest (spoiler: calling it 'love day' or 'heart day' doesn't make it less of a fabricated holiday designed to make us want to spend money) belittles this struggle. you know what would be nice? a reminder to take care of myself and love myself on a random day when no one is celebrating anything. it's important to check in with ourselves and our friends/partners about these things all the time. framing this as a demand (a la "LOVE YOURSELF!!!!") doesn't make me more likely to love myself. it frames it as a choice, not a struggle. it frames it as an issue of importance as prescribed by the date on the calendar, not an ongoing process that deserves space and importance throughout the year.

am i bitter about being single on valentine's day? no, not really. but i don't need the calendar to determine when self-love is important. i don't need profound facebook statuses to help me realize that i'm important. i work fucking hard at these things all the time and i don't need a goddamn pat on the back because it's february 14th.

being there

sometimes i have a conversation, an experience, a thought, a whatever and i realize just how far i've come.  realize how far i was, how distant that self hate is. how profound it is that something so distant can bounce back in an instant but how in this instant, it's so far i can't even see it, can't smell it, hear it, taste it, feel it. i need to savour these moments, to be in them and celebrate them. to have a conversation and realize the shit i've been through with my body and how we are one, so in tune, on good terms and hell, even in love. it's kind of incredible.

today i'm in that space and i need to take this space and revel in it. i need to do cartwheels in this space, jumping jacks, i need to rest in this space and yell in this space. i need to take every last bit of it and allow it to expand and take more of me. i need to continue moving with this space, away from the self hate and the body negativity.

it's fucking beautiful.

on body commentary, again.

i'm sure i've ranted about this here before, but here it comes again.

i hate body commentary. why? because it goes hand-in-hand with fat shaming and body policing. telling me i look good because you think i've lost weight DOES NOT FEEL GOOD and it never will. period. i'm not going to rehash the reasons for this or the assumptions implied here - i've done that in another post and am too amped up and angry to go looking for it to link here.

this morning i was out for brunch with two people who are very important to me. i'm not going to say who they are, but they are permanent fixtures in my life. i have really only seen them once this summer, and that was the day i moved, so they asked to see photos from my summer. i took out my phone and gladly let them scroll through my many photos - mostly of food, my cat, friends, and various trips i've taken alone and with friends. after looking through these photos, there was one of me taken by my friend's son, who is four. the person looking at the photos said "wow, it looks like you've lost weight this summer judging by these photos, particularly this one". now, the funny thing is that the particular photo was taken about FOUR DAYS ago, so no, i have not lost weight since that photo was taken. also, what the FUCK does it matter if i've lost weight (or not) this summer?? you say you are interested to know about my life, you see hundreds of photos of me smiling, exploring, camping, swimming, traveling, laughing with friends, and your ONLY comment is "it looks like you've lost weight". not only is this hurtful for me, it makes me sad for you. the fact that you can look at all of these photos of someone you claim to REALLY care about, and all you see is body size is absolutely heart-breaking to me.

but this is what my life seems to boil down to for this person. how big or small i am and how much and what types of food i decide to put in MY body (side note - this person also called me "an oinker" because the breakfast i ordered today was quite large). it just breaks my heart. i don't know HOW to stop this body commentary. i say "i actually prefer if you don't comment on my body and i will not comment on your body, ever", but that doesn't seem to make any difference. it's like hitting my head against a brick wall of judgment and fat-shame and i am so fucking sick of it.

NOLOSE 2012

so, fat camp.

for months i agonized about the decision to go. the expense, the social anxiety, the time off of work, the general oh-my-god-what-if-i-spend-all-this-money-and-it-sucks-and-everyone-hates-me. you know, the usual. eventually, i decided that i NEEDED to attend the nolose conference this year. i'm going to give a summary of my experiences here, but will definitely forget and miss things that happened, things that impacted me, etc.

GETTING THERE
leading up to the conference, i was a hot mess (see above). not only was i concerned about the practical side of getting TO the conference and finding my way from san francisco to oakland with shitty eyes and a barely working knowledge of the bay area transit system, but i was also overcome with social anxiety. i don't make friends easily. i tend to avoid people. on top of that, i have never been in a room with mostly/all queer fat folks before. hell, i don't even KNOW more than a handful of queer fat folks, and i don't have ANY queer, fat-loving folks with whom i am close. so yes, in some ways it felt like these were to be "my people", but i wasn't sure what that meant or how it would feel. i also have a deep, dark fear of summer camp and i was afraid that this conference would feel just like summer camp and by the second night i would end up calling my mom in tears, begging to come home. obviously, i was TOTALLY OPTIMISTIC.

i arrived in oakland with no trouble (unless 17 hours of travel on ZERO sleep counts as "trouble"), got a room at the econolodge, ordered the worst pizza i've ever tasted, and went to bed. that was my first day at the conference.

friday, i woke up and i could hear excitement outside my window. immediately, my heart jumped into my throat and my stomach tightened. it felt like the first day of highschool (i don't know anyone, i don't know my way around and OMG I AM FAT AND SCARED).  could hear fatties greeting each other, splashing in the pool, reminiscing about the past year since the last conference, comparing kick-ass tshirts and fashionable outfits. i immediately felt like the new kid who knows no one, but i put on my brave face, got dressed, and headed out the door.

at this point, i could give a play by play of the sessions and the activities at the conference, but that would be boring and i'm not going to do that. i am going to write some highlights, mostly for my own memory, and some observations on community.

HIGHLIGHT 1: FOOD TRUCKS
oh my god food trucks. dinner the first night was a food truck party and not only was it delicious, it sort of FORCED interaction outside of sitting at a table and having a guided discussion (as the sessions had been). i need this type of forced interaction, lest i sit in my room and order terrible pizza, so this was a great experience. oh so yummy.

HIGHLIGHT 2: THE SESSIONS
so, the sessions felt a great deal like group therapy. i mean, i've never gone to group therapy, but this is what i imagine it would feel like. and i don't mean this as a negative, it just contrasts my expectations of conferences, which isn't surprising given that part of my job is attending academic conferences. at those, we don't sit in circles and tell our stories/share our feelings. there was a lot of reflection, processing, sharing, and trusting that went on in these sessions. some of which i was not prepared for. there were things that came up for me that i was sort of blindsided by, but happy for. this space was very important for me, and sharing it with so many others who have some common experiences (and some vastly different) was profound.

HIGHLIGHT 3: FATTY SWIMMING
wearing a bathing suit is SUCH A THING. for years, i wore shorts AND a full sized tshirt over my bathing suit AT ALL TIMES. then i moved to shorts and a tank top, then just shorts. this year, for the first time since childhood, i've experimented with bathing suit-only swimming (but that was while camping in the middle of nowhere with one friend). at NOLOSE, swimming is nothing. everyone is fat, everyone is looking gorgeous in their bathing suits - one piece and two pieces, and no one gives a flying fuck that you are fat AND IN A BATHING SUIT. i can't quite describe this experience of freedom after more than 20 years of fear around wearing a bathing suit in public (or, hell, even in private). it may have been the most significant thing i experienced all weekend.

COMMUNITY?
i have a hard time with this. in some ways, getting together with a bunch of people with whom you have at least one thing in common feels like a bit of a forced community. at the same time, there are so many common threads to our stories. there were so many times i heard someone sharing a part of their story and thought "holy fuck that could be me talking". i rarely have that experience and it was very overwhelming. on top of that, i am an introvert, and a hardcore one at that. it really felt like EVERYONE else at this conference was an extrovert, and although i'm sure that's not the case, i didn't come across a single person who said "me too!" when i shared this. this made the community-building/social aspect of the conference very difficult for me, not surprisingly. i really look forward to seeing where this community settles in my life and how i continue (or don't continue) to be a part of/interact with it.

i found this

i am preparing to move (!) and was going through some old papers and photos today, purging and cleaning. i came across something that i wrote and printed eight years ago, while still living with my parents. i wrote this at a very interesting time in my life, when i was right on the cusp of a lot of change.  think it says a lot about me, growth, change, and also what a terrible writer i was (and likely still am - hi me in 8 more years! i bet you're cringing at this writing!). anyway, i'm going to type it here so that i have a digital record of it. also a sidenote: i remember distinctly after i printed this, i accidentally left it sitting on the kitchen table and my dad found it and read it and i was MORTIFIED. here's what i wrote:

Most things in life, you don't notice until they are gone or have changed, and this is true with the passage of time. It is as if one day you look over your shoulder and your life has passed without you being aware of it, how every year on your birthday, people ask you if you feel and different and you respond "no" with a shrug, but then when you actually reflect on the past, you realize how different you are compared to how you once were. You have to remember to look around once in a while, or life will happen without you noticing, or worse, life will pass you by altogether. It is necessary, therefore, to reassess yourself form time to time, not externally, but from within. You must think about the beliefs you hold and how they affect the binding decisions and promises you make, and may or may not keep. This fact is so true, that it is often taken for granted and therefore overlooked, and thus is the irony of human existence. 


When I was four years old, I came to the conclusion that people in general care about others; that in most situations, the average person would help out their fellow human, even if the reward is not great. This belief carried through with me until even now, when I realize that even if perhaps this is not true, I can't simply let it go. I can't give up home that people are generally good, even if on the surface some seem to have no regard for anyone but themselves, and perhaps their offspring, although I am finding more and more often that even this isn't true. It is absurd, but factual that there are people in this world who have no regard for even their own children, the supposed product of their love for another human being. However, even in the face of this dire uncertainty, I find myself clinging to the desperate hope that people are, by nature, generally good. It is necessary to define "good", even if for no other reason than to justify my belief. My belief that people are generally good simply means that human beings have some innate capacity for compassion, honesty and respect even if these same people will rape, murder, and torment their fellow humans given the right amount of provocation. This definition may seem contradictory to some, but it must be observed that the capacity for compassion, honesty and respect is not the same in all people, and is ecen skewed or distorted in some. There are some people who lack these innate capabilities, but they are the exception to the rule. So suited with my belief in the goodness of people and equipped with just the right amount of naivety, I was ready to take on the world, overcoming obstacles and facing uncertainty, all at the tender age of four.


By ten, I had realized that even though all humans have the innate capacity for "goodness", some were not willing to admit to this capacity, and required the unconditional love and acceptance of those around them. The unfortunate thing is that some people do not have the means by which to acquire this love and acceptance, and therefore spend the majority of their lives masking their innate goodness with a veil of hate and anger. These are the people we hear about on the news, who murder, rape, steal and lie. It isn't that these people can't love, it is that they learned at a very early age that showing love will hurt you and is a sign of weakness to predators. So, it became my personal mission to seek out these people and give them what the needed in order to develop and show compassion for their fellow beings. With this belief, I set out on the mission of a lifetime, equipped with my beliefs and the advantage of ten years of experience in the field called life. 


Now, ten years after I set out on my brave mission, I realize that it is not necessarily foolish to believe that people can be changed with only the right amount of love and acceptance, but that it is naive to think that at the tender age of ten, or even now at the age of twenty I am ready to take on such a daring feat. So now I embark on a new journey, one of learning rather than ambition to change the world, with the hope that by educating myself in the ways of the world, I will in some way provide a sliver of light in the perpetual darkness that is human suffering

Right? I want to write a "where I'm at 8 years later in this journey" update, but I'll do that in the next post because this is long enough.

PS - I corrected a few minor typos, but kept all of the spine-tingling run on sentences and comma splices.

camping was fantastic

see?

i've thought about and written (and then deleted) a number of posts since i returned. which means more coming soon, probably.

unplugging

this weekend i'm going on a camping trip that has potential to be rather physically challenging. i went on a similar trip two years ago and that was my first time in a canoe since about 1995 (and that time was a terrible experience, after which i swore i would never get in another canoe). on this trip two years ago, i started out feeling unsure but excited and ended the trip feeling FUCKING peaceful and powerful and happy with my physical strength. as we came to the end of the last lake and pulled our canoe into the pier to return it and end our trip, there were two young men making extremely inappropriate and loud fat jokes directed at me. at first, it was extremely upsetting. here i had just had this amazing trip and my first interaction with human beings (aside from the one friend i was camping with) was fatphobia. awesome. i did my best to not let it impact me, though, and reflected on the trip positively.

we didn't get a chance to go out last year, which was heart-breaking, but this weekend, we are headed out again. except that this year we are going further in the same amount of time. which means more intense travel and portaging. part of me is feeling a bit intimidated and unprepared for this, but there's another part of me screaming FUCKING RIGHT WE'RE GONNA DO THIS. there are just two of us going, so it is sure to be both peaceful and taxing at the same time.

i really wish i could turn off the part of my brain that tells me i'm not strong enough to do this. i wish i didn't have a nagging "what the fuck are you doing?" feeling in my gut.

this should be interesting

happy friday

get yo bake on

(this photo was taken with my phone by a 4-year-old who was standing on a chair and dancing, so please excuse the poor quality)

On inclusion

how do we define oppression? even more complicated, how do we define the boundaries of oppression and privilege? are there boundaries? and how do we do this without playing the Oppression Olympics? i have no idea, but i've been thinking about this a lot, specifically how it relates to experiences of fat phobia and sizeism. let me tell you a story:

every year i go into a second-year university community psychology class and give a lecture on power, oppression, and privilege (next month i'm doing this lecture in a first-year pharmacy program core course. holy crap! nerves!). in the first slide, i display a messy image of all sorts of forms of oppression/privilege. two forms of oppression that are not in the students' textbook are "sizeism" and "cissexism", so when i display this image and ask if there are any terms the students are unfamiliar with, inevitable, someone points out these two terms. i then give a description of what these terms mean, with examples of each. next, i ask students to take a few minutes, think about how privilege and oppression play out in their lives, share with a neighbour (to the extent that they feel safe and comfortable sharing), then we come back to a larger class discussion. every time i give this lecture, when i ask students to share what they discussed with their classmates, a petite woman puts up her hand and says "i experience sizeism because i am short and people always pat me on the head and it's really annoying". huh. i NEVER know how to respond to this.

now, there are many things happening all at the same time here. i imagine this woman's experience would be different if she were a man (almost always, they comment that it is their boyfriend/brother/male friends who pat them on the head). i usually respnd to this and get students to start thinking about intersectionality, which i discuss later in the lecture. BUT - is this an experience of sizeism?  does sizeism include height diversity?

similarly, the other day i posted on facebook something about shopping as a fat person, and a vert petite acquaintance from my past commented about how small her feet are and how hard it is to find shoes. now, i GET this. i can only imagine that it is really frustrating to have size 5 or 6 feet and never be able to find shoes (my feet are size 9, so i don't have this experience). but is it the same as being fat and having a choice of three stores that carry your size? when the average size for women is about 14/16 in north america (that's from memory - i could be slightly off on that), why do stores carry sizes 0 - 12? this is a systemic problem - even the AVERAGE size woman can't shop in some stores, and anyone even *slightly* above average has very few shops to chose from (note: i am a 2x/size 18 and so this is my experience).

now, let's go back to the issue of inclusion. is this short student experiencing sizeism? in my opinion, no. she is not. maybe this is just me being protective of something i experience every damn day, but a slim, short woman does not have the experience of not fitting into seats, being too terrified to fly in case she has to buy two seats, not being able to get clothes that fit and make her feel comfortable, being told by health "professionals" and the media ALL.THE.TIME. that she is going to die an early and painful, self-inflicted death because of her choices, because she is lazy and eats too much. yes, her "friends" who pat her on the head are patronizing douchebags and need to be told that. i would argue that she is experiencing some negative gender-related stereotypes ("oh, you little, dainty woman, you aren't smart enough to understand what we're talking about" *pat, pat, pat*).

in that moment, when this student shares her experiences, i don't correct her. i don't give my opinion about this definition of sizeism. i don't want to invalidate someone's experiences, but at the same time, i have just introduced this group of (about 120) students to this concept moments before, so is it my responsibility to make sure they *get* it? am i an "expert" because i am knowledgeable about this stuff? because i read about it? because i'm fat? i don't know. i haven't come across this discussion before, but it really interests me. i WANT to be able to say "actually, when i say 'sizeism', i mean THIS, not THAT". i want them to understand. i want them to understand that when they look in the mirror and think or say "ugh, i am so FAT", not only are they alienating their fat friends (or just passersby), but they are also experiencing the societal pressure to be thin and reject (abhor, even) fat. THAT'S the core of this. height, in this context, although not TOTALLY irrelevant, is not the core factor. and i don't want the point of this to be lost on them with an off-topic example. i want these students to be allies, not just in terms of fat acceptance, but in other ways, too. i just don't know how to do that without alienating them.

sometimes you can't

in trying to understand some possible food sensitivities and my body's reactions, i decided at the beginning of may to go a month without sugar, gluten, and other inflammatory foods (tomatoes, etc) while increasing my intake of anti-inflammatory foods (organic berries, omega 3s, turmeric, etc). this seemed straight forward enough. i knew it wouldn't be easy - i like bread, i like ice cream, and i like beer - but i also knew it was short term and i felt committed to figuring out what was happening with my body (most notably digestions issues, stomach pain, and acne).

now, let me back up a bit and say (again) that i am firmly anti-dieting. i have a long history with dieting and it is just not a healthy approach. not for me and, i would argue, not for most. i am a strong believer in intuitive eating - eat what you want, when you want it. give your body what it needs and also what it wants when you need to. i've been through all sorts of up and down phases with restricting my food - from extreme food restriction, to obsessing over points on weight watchers. restricting my food makes me very, VERY uncomfortable. BUT (i told myself), this was not a diet (or a "lifestyle change", as the popular euphemism goes). this was necessary. this was a way to give my body what it needed and to feel good - physically and mentally. once i figured things out, i would be more able to make informed food decisions (and i would hopefully FINALLY have a clear-ish face. made it through puberty and my 20s with almost no zits. now, as i approach 30, my face is a fucking mess).  well, here's how that went....

i started on a wednesday, after spending much time reading and understanding the relationship between food - mostly gluten and sugar - and acne (and other things, but mostly acne).  i felt so good about my decision, i felt at peace, and i felt like i was finally going to feel awesome and figure out what was going on. i don't generally eat a WHOLE lot of gluten, and i am generally mindful of the sugar i take in, simply because i'm not a fan of the sugar high and resulting crash. so this should be easy, right? for the first day, it was. i got some gluten free wraps and other than that, my diet didn't really change. the second day was also fine. i felt very hungry, but i snacked all day and told myself that the hunger was just a mask for the sugar cravings.

then friday night hit. almost every friday night, i have a beer. i couldn't have my beer. i was upset, i was hungry all day long no matter how many snacks i ate. i felt irritable and restricted and EXTREMELY insecure about my body. i mentioned this month-long food trial to a friend and she referred to it as "my diet" (that actually happened twice) and i got very upset and defensive. this was NOT A DIET. but man, it sure felt like one.

on saturday, i had a wedding to attend. i had had insomnia the night before and the idea of spending an evening in a social setting was not at all appealing to me. i determined that there was no way i could attend this wedding and not have a glass of wine, so i decided just to enjoy myself and not worry too much about sugar and gluten and everything. i couldn't just NOT eat, and the menu was set, so i wasn't going to obsess over it.

after the wedding, i got sick with a cold. i was miserable, tired, hungry, and sick.  still hadn't quite made the connection with how this food restriction was affecting me psychlogically, but i knew that i just needed to do what i needed to do to get through the day with a cold that was settling in my chest. for the rest of the week, i focused on getting better more than anything else. my up and down mood was explained away by the fact that i wasn't feeling well.  eventually, though, i was able to think critically about it and realized that restricting my food intake, even just for a few days, really fucked me up. it wasn't a big deal, it SHOULDN'T be a big deal. it was a short-term situation and i was doing it for good reason. unfortunately, none of this mattered. mentally, i simply couldn't do it.

what did i learn from all of this? food is serious business. a person's history can really fuck them up. every person is different and something that is no big deal for one person, can cause serious problems for another, and that is TOTALLY OKAY. it is important to listen to my body AND my mind and make decisions that contribute to feelings of overall wellness. yeah, there are still zits on my face and yeah, that still drives me nuts. unfortunately, i am just not in a place where i can restrict my food and be okay with it. i'll take some time with it, try to understand it, and maybe make a decision about trying again in the future, but for now, it's just not an option for me. and that's just fine. i need to give body and food issues the space they deserve in my life while not giving them power over me and my decisions/experiences. this is a near-impossible balance to strike, but so, so important.

want

I WANT TO GO TO THIS.

and maybe i even want to present something. no idea what, but their presentation format seems pretty open and OMG I WANT TO GO.

sunday

soup

sitting 

 sleeping

 sunset strolling

and, unfortunately, sadness at the news of a friend's loss. 

new directions

i really miss blogging.

i realize that this is a blog, and i write here from time to time, but so far it has all had a very specific focus. yes, this is a 'fat' blog, but being fat is not the only (or the most important, central) part of my identity or my life. it's one of those things that impacts a lot of areas of my life, but it doesn't define it.

i used to (and still do, actually) have a personal blog where i just wrote and posted photos, almost daily. that other blog has been on lockdown for a couple of years after some unfortunate bullying and harassment. i miss what the blog used to be and i want to have that again. i know that some day i am going to look back on this period as a really good time in my life. my life is pretty full right now and i want to take more time to document all aspects of this life, not just the ones related to body image and size acceptance.

so, my intent from here on out will be to use this blog in a more general sense. i will still write posts on particular and focused topics, but i will also write general updates, more for my own memory than anything else. i'm not sure that anyone even reads this blog, so maybe i'm just writing this post for myself, as a reminder to actually use this space (and that's okay, i don't need an audience).

i'm not OVERweight

i am fat.
i am large.
i am chubby.
I AM NOT OVERweight.

now, i'm sure that some fat folks identify with this term, and that is totally fine. but i hate it.

what does overweight mean? what weight am i over? this term implies that there is some ideal weight and that being over (or under) it is hazardous. yes, being extremely over or under the 'average' weight CAN be dangerous, but these things are not linked in an essential way. to me, the term overweight implies that until one's weight is no longer "over" something (the ideal), there is a problem, a risk to one's health.

i just spent four days at a conference called "community-campus partnerships for health" and although this conference was fabulous and inclusive, because it was related to health, there was a lot of talk of "the obesity epidemic". in fact, in one session when the presenter asked folks to shout out 'the -isms', there was confusion when i said 'sizeism' (although not nearly as much confusion as when i said 'cissexism', but that's a conversation for another day). being in such an atmosphere had me feeling rather ranty a lot of the time, but it was the use of this term - overweight - that really got me.

i'm not sure if the term overweight is hated by other fatties, but it really rubs me the wrong way.