FatGirl vs World

For a while I've been using the #WTFOkCupid hash tag to document some of my frustration with the kind of guys that I attract via online dating. (I thought about consolidating my experiences with Match as well as OkCupid under the #FGvWDates hashtag, but then other people started using #WTFOkCupid to share some of their interesting messages.  Hilarity ensued.)

At first, I was considerate -- blurring out the faces and/or screennames of the offenders, and then I figured that if they didn't care about how they presented themselves to me, I wouldn't care about protecting their reputations.  I should be careful to note, that I don't need anyone to defend me or attack the men.  I can take care of myself, but I just want to defend myself that I'm not the only reason that I'm single.
The other day I got into a Twitter conversation with Ms. Plus Size Princess herself and Deepinky about how some men fetishize having sex with larger women, and how others think that they're "tossing a bone" when they offer to have sex with us (what charity!).   And it got me thinking in general....

I've gotten lots of dating advice lately about my standards (the things I need or want out of a partner, and how flexible I am regarding those needs/wants) my expectations (how a man presents himself, how he reveals himself to either meet or not meet certain standards), and how to present myself (apparently I'm intimidating).  My expectations are pretty low and generally are about etiquette -- (1) don't be a jerk, (2) respect me and my time, and (3) be who you say you are.  I've discussed my standards before, and by-in-large I think I'm pretty flexible (except re smoking cause it's gross).  Most of them have to do with a man's character.  I do have some aesthetic preferences, but there's one I'm particularly inflexible about -- height.  I like a guy that's taller than I am.

These jerkwads (yep, there's more than one) aren't the only ones that are telling me that I need to manage my expectations (um, they're as low as they get) and reconsider my standards (which again, are pretty flexible and are pretty understandable, imho).  To this I say

I'm always dubious when magazines claim "Must Read!" on the cover, but in Cosmopolitan--June 2013, the "Must Read" turned out to be something worth sharing:

I've posted a few links on Facebook and Twitter regarding Mika Brzezinski's new book, "Obsessed: America's Food Addiction and My Own."  I think that the book and all the interviews (check out this one) surrounding the book point out a really important issue, not just for our weight loss/health gain community, but a larger issue that addresses the biases and prejudices we have towards how we view other people.  I will state here that I have not had a chance to read the book. 

To look at Mika, you'd see a thin, beautiful, successful woman (she's a co-host on the TV show "Morning Joe") and mother.  You would never guess that she is a disordered eater (Mika is a binge eater, bulimic, food restrictor, and an exercise bulimic).  She makes a good point that "Eating disorders affect women of all shapes and sizes.  I think that's important to talk about because so many women need help." [men too!]

In other words, you could look at someone (a friend, a family member, a stranger) and be jealous of the body (thin, toned, etc.) they have and have no clue as to their daily struggles. (For instance -- time when I asked this very thin woman in a store how she stayed so thin and she smiled, revealing some of the most medieval-looking braces you've ever seen.  She said it was because it hurt to eat.)  You could look at someone who is overweight/obese and assume that they're doing nothing to take care of themselves (*makes stink eye at the random guy who once told me to "put down the Twinkies."). 

And because we make these assumptions, we don't ask people how they are doing.  We assume they're okay, or aware of their own problems and are addressing them.  We assume they are getting adequate support.  The book was born out of one friend (Mika) telling her friend (Diane Smith) that she was worried about her weight (Diane was 75-100lbs overweight).  But the other half of the conversation was a confession that Mika was miserable, that she was slowly dying in her war against her body.

Mika and Diane realized that though they were on different sides of the spectrum, they had many of the same issues regarding balancing the need to eat and the terror of food, issues regarding body image and societal pressures/perceptions.  Together, Diane lost weight and Mika is learning how to be okay with having gained 15 pounds or so. 

The weight loss/health gain community is wonderful, but I must admit that I see some people that choose to put on a sunshiney veneer when they're actually having trouble.  I worry that some people write one thing and do another.  Then they go radio silent because they're ashamed for not being perfect all the time instead of reaching out for help.  Or deep down they know that what they're doing isn't healthy, and so they try to hide it.

Supporting someone is easy when you're applauding their successes. But I think true friendship and love is when you're willing to risk that friendship/love to say "Talk to me.  I'm worried about how you are treating yourself" instead of choosing to look away. 

The whole point of this post is just to remind you (yes, YOU) that even if you feel like you're alone and no one understand your particular struggles, that every single human being understands what it is like to struggle.  Struggle is the pathway to empathy.  And the more we talk about this with each other, the more we bring into focus what it truly means to be healthy both physically, emotionally, mentally as individuals, as a community, as a society. 

I've been reading Veronica Monet's Sex Secrets of Escorts and while most of it isn't particularly great writing or things i never knew before -- she does make a few good points, among which are a few I want to share with you:

Escorts, by virtue of their profession, must love their bodies. The common woman often does not. They take the time to pamper and primp their body because it's an expression of love and care for themselves.

. . .

Throughout history, courtesans weren't paid only to be beautiful, but to be witty, smart, engaging and often had access to a world of learning that other women did not. They were allowed to challenge men in ways that other women often could not.  Some would even go to say that the women who were courtesans by choice (not by lineage or force) were the early feminists -- embracing knowledge and regaining control of their sexual pleasure.

Thoughts? 

Once upon a time (7/12/2010), I posted a blog entry named "More of that Journalistic Integrity BS" in which, much like the Great Oz, I stepped out from behind the curtain to reveal myself:


I broke New Rule #3 ("I will not think badly about myself when I look in the mirror.") a gazillion times.
Heck, it's the rule I break most often, without fail. No only do I have an adversarial relationship with the mirror, I have an adversarial relationship with my body.  (For all the bravado of FGvW, Robby is pretty insecure).

For as much as I scrutinized the photo above, I don't have the traditional type of body dysmorphic disorder where I think I'm larger than I truly am.  I am quite the opposite.  When I close my eyes and run my hands over my body, I see and feel the person underneath the fat suit.  When I open my eyes, I'm disappointed with what I see--a body that doesn't represent who I am at this moment, but is the legacy of all the bad decisions that I've made and all the past pain in my life. I look at myself and don't see me. I see a prisoner.

This ties in to how many people say to me "but you aren't fat..." and how I feel bad calling myself FatGirlvsWorld when I know many women (and men) who are larger than I am.  It's the fat brain (the one that fears gaining it all back).  No matter how much weight I lose, how fast I run, how strong I am, or how much I truly love myself, I still think that my body just doesn't represent who I truly am on the inside.  In other words, there's a cognitive dissonance between who I think I am (mentally, physically, etc.) and the physical reality of who I am.  The result is frustration and scrutinizing.

Yesterday, I got a new bikini from H&M (as well as a dress and a light jacket).  When in the dressing room, I was utterly horrified by the way the lighting made me look, but I closed my eyes and tried to let my inner vixen make the decision about whether or not I wanted the bikini. Inner vixen said yes, I do want this bikini.

I put it on when I got home and wanted to show the world my purchase, but my old nemesis, the mirror started playing tricks on me:


But in the end, I posted the picture (at 2 am... hours after I took the photo):


Nota bene:  I'm not giving you the finger, I'm giving the fat the finger.  Why?

oh typos...

I feel like such a hypocrite when I am all "RAWR, YOU MUST LOVE YOUR BODY" and at the same time I'm deeply insecure -- but the truth of the matter is that perception sometimes feels truthier than the truth.  Who among us hasn't had the misalignment where your heart and mind completely love you, but your eyes betray that progress? 

So yes, I think too much.  I intellectualize things that should be visceral and natural.  But holding up that mirror to myself to understand why I think the way I do about my own body is the foundation work that I need in order to make a permanent change. Eventually the way I perceive myself/my body will match how I see myself/my body.  Make sense?

In other news, RAWR -- I look pretty hot in the new bikini, eh? It's a great color on my pale ass, Irish skin.

BTW, I love all the tweets and blog posts that are flying in the face of magazines' "Bikini Ready Body" -- all you really need to wear a bikini is SPF and chutzpah.

I've written before, in passing, about psychologist/Buddhist practitioner Tara Brach and her book, Radical Acceptance.  I just wanted to take an opportunity, on this Mother's Day eve, to talk a little about it in the context of how we care for ourselves.

The book starts out with an anecdote about how her friend was learning to be "her own best friend." Tara had a visceral reaction to this: 

A huge wave of sadness came over me, and I broke down sobbing.  I was the furthest thing from my own best friend.  I was continually harassed by an inner judge who was merciless, relentless, nit-picking, driving, often invisible but always on the job.  I knew I would never treat a friend the way I treated myself, without mercy or kindness.  My guiding assumption was "Something is fundamentally wrong with me," and I struggled to control and fix what felt like a basically flawed self.

 Strikes a cord, right?

When we experience our lives through this lens of personal insufficiency, we are imprisoned in what I call the trance of unworthiness.  Trapped in this trance, we are unable to perceive the truth of who we really are.  [ . . . ]

[B]ecause our habits of feeling insufficient are so strong, awakening from the trance involves not only inner resolve, but active training of the heart and mind.  Through Buddhist awareness practices, we free ourselves from the suffering of trance by learning to recognize what is true in the present moment, and by embracing whatever we see with an open heart.  This cultivation of mindfulness and compassion is what I call Radical Acceptance.

[Radical Acceptance] is the necessary antidote to years of neglecting ourselves, years of judging and treating ourselves harshly, years of rejecting this moment's experience and our life as it is.  A moment of Radical Acceptance is a moment of genuine freedom. 

(1) I'm not trying to sell you Buddhism, and (2) I didn't mean to quote half of the prologue;  however, I do think that each and every one of us have had moments where we feel that "something is fundamentally wrong with me" and if you've ever picked up a magazine or watched TV, that message has been reinforced with a bit of "something is fundamentally wrong with you."

Marketers LOVE to prey on this insecurity.  I love the story of how Listerine made halitosis a household word, and not the other way around.  Think about how many other products prey on the insecurity of "ZOMG my breath must smell bad and offend everyone around me!"  Cosmetics companies sell the paranoia that we are being scrutinized (oh noes! fine lines! blackheads!), so we must use harsh chemicals to strip the natural, protective oils on our skin and hair, and then cover it up with some unnatural oils, and then, in the case of women, put on a mask or dye (there's a big difference between "enhance" and "cover").  Our natural scents are offensive and so we must prevent and/or neutralize it (antiperspirant/deodorant), or completely mask it with a perfume, cologne or body spray.

We're sold apparel to make us look taller, thinner, younger, fitter, with bigger/anti-gravity boobs, bigger butts, bigger packages, etc.  How could we possibly attract a mate if we showed up looking like our natural selves?!  How could you possibly feel good about yourself leaving the house looking like that?

The food industry sells us this idea as well as the exercise/gym world.  Not only are they homogenizing our food resources (corn! soy! fake sugars!), but they sell the idea of one vision of health -- the thin, flexible, young (usually white) woman, and the beefy, unnaturally muscled/tanned/oiled man with the perfect head of hair.  Until we look like mirror images of them, something is wrong with our bodies -- we should seek improvement immediately!  We are told that our insides are toxic and so we must detox and cleanse them.  We're told (ahem, Biggest Loser/Bob Harper) that we should restrict calories and increase activity to achieve aesthetic ideals, which is very different than educating people on how to make a healthy choice for themselves.  Just scare the bejeebus out of them by telling them something's wrong with them and that you have the cure.

I remember getting a pamphlet when I was 10/11 telling me that this magical thing was going to happen to my body, and that it would be marked by "secondary sex characteristics" (i.e., not just the joy of my "monthly friend"):  arrival of body and pubic hair; boobs and hips would get bigger; etc.  But from the onset, I was taught to be ashamed of these things:  my mother insisted on a bra that would compress my breasts; and though leg and underarm hair was a sign that I was becoming a woman, I was to remove all traces of it.  As an adult, I'm aware of a whole industry surrounding the insecurities that women feel towards their own vaginas and pubic hair (and shame on you men and lesbians for compounding this insecurity by asking/insisting that your lover be shaven/waxed -- it's up to her and her alone, just be happy that you were invited to the party).  

**deep breath**  I'm rambling, aren't I?

The whole point of what I'm trying to get at is that whatever it is that anyone of us may or may not be doing to improve our health should (1) be an expression of the love that we have for ourselves at this very moment, (2) not a result of fear, insecurity, or perceived unworthiness, (3) not come at the expense of our whole self.  We should not introduce behaviors, people, or products in our lives that seek to undermine that love with fear or insecurity.


I was talking with a friend the other day about our shared anxiety disorder, dermatillomania and said:  The hardest part of the work, for me, is trying to get it through my thick skull that black heads, white heads, ingrown hairs... etc... all have a way of working themselves out -- that if I just wash with soap and water, my body will take care of the rest -- that I don't need to play doctor and fix it.

What an amazing concept -- I'm not something broken that needs to be fixed.

I am loveable, worthy, and beautiful just the way I am, even if that's moments after stepping out of the shower, without makeup, without my contacts, without clothing that reverses the effects of gravity, or even without brushing my teeth.  Even if I didn't go to the gym that day, even if I split a donut with a friend, even if I popped a pimple, even if I just farted, I'm still worthy of loving my beautiful self.

In a shot heard 'round the world, Abercrombie & Fitch's CEO doesn't want fat chicks wearing their clothing.

I feel you and all of your righteous indignation when clothing makers decide to cut-off their sizes at a certain point and that just so happens to not include you.  I empathize to a degree.  I hear all of your love for brands that decide to include larger sizes.  I see your pom-poms.

But the truth is that even if they did go up to size 16, there would still be people left out.  Even if they went up to size 20, there would still be people that can't shop there.  And that's okay.  That's their choice.  Producing clothing over a certain size requires the patterns to change, which requires different factory setups.  At some point, they just do a cost-benefit analysis and decide that they aren't going to expand the sizes.

What people are mad at is that this CEO decided to paint a very bleak picture about size and acceptance.  Are we mad because he's a jerkface and pointed out the disparity about how differently people are treated because of their size, or are we mad because he's making money off of it?

That's for y'all to debate if you wish.  I just want to remind you that, as consumers, we yield not just a lot of power with our dollars and how we spend them, we also have a voice. And in this case, I choose to believe that Abercrombie & Fitch just wants to see me naked.  I mean, I don't blame them.  I'm pretty hot naked.

So wouldn't that be the best kind of protest?  A naked flash mob of people they're unwilling to clothe.  I don't like flash mobs in general (the kind that sing and dance) but heck, if you're going to flash someone, might as well bring friends.

---

Yesterday, I also took the time to cause a little trouble:

1. For me to be "skinny," I'd have to lose a lot of muscle.  And well muscle is sexy, so that isn't happening.  I'd rather be healthy, strong, fast, confident.  Skinny is for the birds.  (That isn't to say that I know plenty of people who are healthy and slim, but "skinny" seems to be a status symbol, not an indicator of actual health and happiness).
2.  from what I've heard (and the BL history supports this) -- he's recommending women eat a diet of 800 calories (for 2 weeks).  That type of calorie restricting (no matter how long) IS NOT HEALTHY and promotes disordered eating habits.
3. If you've been reading my blog (thank you) or following me on Twitter (thank you), we're probably like-minded (i.e., don't have our heads up our asses) in that we know that exercise requires fuel. 800 calories is barely enough to support someone in a coma, let alone someone leading an active, physically fit life.
4. He's teaching people how to live 2 weeks of their life -- not how to live the rest of their life.  If you can't do it every day for the rest of your life, then it's a gimmick (right up there with his diet pills).  And slapping the word "skinny" on it just panders to all the insecurities we have.  And because it's Bob Fucking Harper (or Jillian Fucking Michaels), people buy into it. 

---

So... please take a stand with me and show the world (see where I get the whole "vs World" bit from?) that HEALTH and HAPPINESS are more important than labels ('fashionable' or 'skinny').  That's the club you want to belong to.

So Martha Stewart joined Match.com. 
And well, if it's good enough for her, it's good enough for me.. 

Brief history:
-- I used to have a love.aol.com profile when I was 18, mainly because I had low self confidence.  Guys would talk to me, but it was mainly because they wanted to meet my friends.

-- I've joined PlentyOfFish (cesspool, deleted), OkCupid (some friends were on it, and I've made some friends using it), Match, Eharmony (they didn't really want me), as well as SeekingArrangement (purely to research why guys want that kind of arrangement, yielded interesting results).  Heck, I even met people off of Craigslist (back when it wasn't sketchy... okay, it was always sketchy).


-- as compared to some women I personally know or have read about, I don't go on as many dates as they do.  Don't get me wrong, if a guy asks me, I'm usually pretty game.  But I dislike it if I give a guy my phone number and all he does is text me when he's horny. 

-- I've had mixed results:  guys who would look at me and bail, guys who were clearly only interested in sex, and guys who were plenty nice, but there was no chemistry.

-- and well...  ugh....


So why did I get a 3-month subscription to Match.com?  Well, I was listening to a Jillian Michaels podcast from a while ago called "Making Friends is Hard to Do" and she talks about it in terms of how your life changes when you get out of unhealthy environments and relationships and need to rebuild, but she also fields a call about a woman who is timid about dating.

I've blogged in the past about how I'm perceived as "Intimi-dating"  and how people have always advised me to tone it down, when I meet guys. Jillian said something to the tune of "eventually people will figure out who you are...so why not be authentic? You have nothing to lose by being who you truly are." That really struck a nerve.  I think part of the reason why I'm gunshy about dating is (1) I don't want to disappoint and (2) I'm too worried about the image I'm crafting for the guy to see that I don't enjoy myself.

Jillian makes the good point that you should be who you are, and if someone doesn't like that (and has the balls to be honest with you) then they are doing you a favor by just eliminating one more person from the dating pool.  I don't need validation from some stranger that I'm worthy of (their) love.  I already know that because of how I treat myself. But I also know that I am my best person when I'm loving on someone that deserves my love.  So I also am worthy of giving myself my best chance.

I'll let you know how it all goes :)

On August 8, 1994, I turned 13.  I shared that birthday with my then-best friend of 2 years C (whose birthday was August 5).  I asked my mom to put both of our names on the cake, and my mom got two nearly-identical amethyst geodes with silver horse figurines on top of them for each of us.

Less than a month later (around Sept. 5), mom would get sick in the middle of the night (vomiting, headache, disorentation).  A little over a week later we took her to the hospital where the doctors figured out that her "sinus infection"/"severe sinus infection" was really a cerebral aneurysm only after she had a seizure and went into a coma. 22 days after that, she would be declared brain dead. 

It's hard for one 13-year-old to comfort and understand another 13-year-old that just lost her parent.  I get that.  But it's not the time to tell the person that just lost her mother that you were no longer interested in being friends (I remember her exact words, but I don't want to repeat them here).  Maybe my mom dying cut too close (C's mom died when C was 3 months old).  Maybe she couldn't deal with it.  (It was around this time that I met Nancy--and I've been friends with her ever since).  

For a long time, I walked on eggshells around people/acquaintances/friends fearing that I would alienate them -- I didn't understand that true friends and family should be able to lean on each other when needed. It took many years to learn that there's an element of grace in both asking for help and giving help.  The bottom line is that I had a fear of abandonment:  if I told someone I needed or wanted them in my life, would they consider that too much of a burden? Would they consider me too needy?

(...Food will never leave me or consider me a burden.  Food will never consider me too needy.  Food is happy to comfort me when I'm home alone after school and miss my mom.  Food will help me miss her less...) 

I find that even as a 31 y/o, it's a delicate balance.  With friends, I often try not to ask too much of them.  If I'm dating someone, I need small reassurances that they're still there (a text saying "Hi, thinking about you" goes a very long way). I can have all the confidence in the world, but this is something that still shakes me.  I'm like a rock climber that is constantly checking to see that the rope is there. It doesn't need to catch me if I fall, I just need to know that it is there.

Also in the category of "things that unnerve me" -- I'm 31 now.  My mom had me when she was 31 and died when she was 44.  I have spent a great deal of this past year thinking along the lines of "if I were to have a kid right now, how long would I be around for him/her?"  It breaks my effing heart to think about things like that.  It's hard to live joyfully if you think you're racing against a clock.

I'm going to leave you with a story and a song.  After my mom's funeral (it was on a Saturday), I came back to school the next week.  Auditions for Select Choir had already taken place (while my mom was sick, but I was spending so much time at the hospital or at my grandparent's house...), but the teacher let me in without one (I'm kind of awesome).  The first song that they had rehearsed in my absence was Billy Joel's Lullabye.  Every single word of that song rang true.  Before it was even over, I ran out of the room crying...sometimes I still do.  

Ortho Resident, my x-ray, my Doctor

It's so very disheartening to see DietBet's ability to infiltrate the weight loss/health gain community.  People like the idea of getting a cut of the proceeds when they host, people like the idea of splitting the pot, of being in competition.  I understand the psychology behind that.  But I would beg of you to really ask yourself whether weight loss is the only way you could consider yourself succeeding -- or if your success can be measured by other means.

If your success can only be measured by pounds lost, I would then ask "Where is the finish line? Are you sure you'd be happy there?" 

If your success can be measured by other means -- I'd love to hear what metric gets you most excited.