Apparently, even losers can’t win. February 17, 2009

Tonight I was at a friend’s house hanging out with her 8 month old son. After he went to bed I started flipping channels and found a show on one of those entertainment/ music channels about “skinniest celebs”. I found it a little ironic, how the same people who dish out criticism of the Jennifer Love Hewitts and Kate Winsletts of the world for being too fat were now talking about how unhealthy all these celebrities are for being too thin, and how all the media coverage was about people being concerned for their health, blah, blah blah. There were even a few people who they talked about on the show who had been “overweight” (in Hollywood terms, of course) who decided to be “healthy” and then “took healthy too far”.

What the bloody hell?

So, let me get this straight, oh great music/ entertainment peoples. This person was somehow not ok before, because they didn’t have what you deem a perfect body, and then in their quest to get that so-called perfect body they went too far and now they don’t again? Did they ever meet with your approval? Was there a magic five minutes where no one was “concerned” about these celebrities?

Um, no.

This is the problem when a culture decides that bodies, anyone’s bodies, are public domain. If it is ok to dehumanize fatties by putting their headless torsos above stories on the OMG OBEEEZITY EPUHDEMIC, then it is ok to dehumanize anyone whose body does not meet with public approval. NEver mind that no one ever really does, because there is a multi-billion dollar industry out there that exists solely to convince people they are unacceptable. Nevermind that the root of the issue lies in the pressure to have that perfect, culturally acceptable body. Not thin enough? The media, the diet and cosmetic companies, even random people in the grocery store will harass you about it, so you do crazy things to defy your own body and force it to bend to someone else’s standards, at which point those same people criticize you for doing they very thing they wanted you to do in the first place. It’s a crazy carousel of death, and there is only one way off. Ready for this? Have the courage to accept your body the way it is. Have the courage to be yourself and do what YOU want to do, anyone else’s opinion be damned. Recognize all those media messages for the bullshit that they are, and remember that it isn’t ok to dehumanize anyone, no matter the color of their skin or their physical abilities or the size of their ass or how many wrinkles they have. Get off the carousel. It’s nice out here.

Thoughts on love. February 13, 2009

So, it’s Valentine’s Day.   I spent most of my high school years wearing black and being passionately anti-valentine, all the while desperately secretly hoping that the next year I would be one of the ones getting flowers and big hideous teddy bears.  In college I wore less black, but I was no less disdainful and fervent and secret.  There was one memorable Valentine’s day when I helped the man I was desperately, hopelessly infatuated with, the man I would have dropped everything, including all morals and standards for, plan the perfect Valentine’s day for his girlfriend.  Even worse were the weeks afterward when I had to hear her gush about all the wonderful things he had done, all those wonderful things I had come up with and could not take credit for.   What can I say, I was pretty bloody stupid, particularly when it came to boys.

I’ve spent my life hearing variations on “just wait, it will happen when…” In the residential summer Governers’ school before my junior year of High School (yeah, I was that kid) I had a conversation about my frustration at being the perpetual singleton and was told to “just wait until your junior year, everything happens in your junior year”  Then there was just wait until you are a senior/start college/finish college/ get a job/ blah blah bitty blah.

Here’s the truth — I am 32 years old and I have never kissed anyone.  I have never dated.  And I am happy about it.

I won’t lie and say I have always been happy about it.  Sitting in my best friend’s bedroom in high school while she counted the guys she had made out with (the number wasn’t small) or in the bathroom lounge at church on Sunday morning discussing my friends’ exploits the night before (in code, no less) caused no small jealousy on my part.  It hasn’t been easy over the past several years watching my friends get married, and I have on more than one occasion struggled to force smiles at showers and rehearsal dinners and weddings and parties, and I would be lying if I denied coming home from those events and crying alone in my house.  Hell, sometimes I didn’t even make it home.  A few times I didn’t even make it to the car.

Here’s the thing — we are all taught from preschool on up that we can have anything we want if we just work hard enough.  It’s not true, but it is an integral part of the puritans, pilgrims, and pioneers pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps mentality that is so present in our culture.  So it is natural to think that you can find love the same way — by working at it, and it’s easy to think that if it doesn’t happen you just aren’t working hard enough, and then if it still doesn’t work, then there must clearly be something wrong with you to make you inherently unloveable, you big hideous freak.   It’s worse when you are fat, since you have a whole cultural norm telling you that you are, in fact, a hideous freak, and it’s OMG all your fault and you just need to eat less andexercisemoreandthenyou’dbeperfectandyouhaveSUCHaprettyface!

I would like to celebrate this Valentine’s Day by calling bullshit.

Being thin and/ or conventionally beautiful is no more a guarantee to finding real love than anything else.  In fact, I would venture to say it might be a little but of a hindrance, because there are plenty of guys who want to date hot girls just to date hot girls and aren’t at all interested in the girl herself, just her body.

Today I reread Kate’s brilliant post on finding love and dumb luck.  I think this is my favorite bit:

Single folks, here’s what I know: you are exactly what someone is looking for, and that someone is exactly what you’re looking for. You just don’t have a damned bit of control over when or where you’ll stumble across each other. That sucks a hundred kinds of ass. But you don’t have to be prettier. You don’t have to be better. You don’t even have to be patient, if you don’t feel like it. You just have to be.

I’m 32.  I can’t do one damn thing about whether I ever date, get married, have kids, whatever.  I can’t make anyone be attracted to me, and I am not willing to try and change myself into something I am not in an attempt to attain those things, because if I get them but lose myself, what’s the point?

The other day I ran into a friend I had not seen in a while and she asked if I was ever going to get married, and asked if I was dating anyone.  I was a little shocked at my reaction, which was pretty much”hunh, I hadn’t really thought about it”.  It was in the moment that I realized that all my angst was a thig of the past, and I have reached a place where I am genuinely content where I am and could not care less about “finding someone”.  If it happens, it happens, and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t, and either way my life is good. It’s a pretty damn brilliant place to be.

In which I learn a vital, if painful, lesson. February 1, 2009

I recently spent some time engaged in what I will politely call a discussion in the comment thread for an article in a British Magazine.   The article was about a recent finding in obesity research, and the comment thread was, to quote Motormouth Maybelle, “a whole lotta ugly comin’ at you from a never-ending parade of stupid”.

Actually, it was more than that.  It was raw, undiluted hate.  And it made me sick.

I guess I have lived in a bubble.  I am white, middle class, and college educated.  I have lived a life of privilege, and I can’t pretend that it has been anything else.  I have encountered my fair share of people who dislike me, and endured the same asshattery as any other person on the planet, plus I live in the South, so I have seen more than my share of racism, but I had never experienced anything quite like this.

I am not going to go into details, and I am not going to link to the article, because I would hate for any of my readers to get a concussion banging their head against their desk.  I will just tell you that people said, over and over again, in a variety of words that all mean the same thing, that fat people are stupid.  ALL fat people are stupid.  And they are liars.  ALL liars.  That they are delusional, that they are lazy, that they are a plague on society.  One guy said that if he ever had kids he would not allow them to play with fat kids.  One guy said twice that the person who wrote the article could not be believed because “she’s on of the obese” and that no matter what one of “the obese” writes about or what she says, it is wrong.  Once I actually got involved in the conversation those insults went from the general to the specific.   Strangers, people who have never met me or spoken to me, told me over and over and over that I was stupid, and deluded, and lying, simply because I am fat.   When it became clear that I refused to buy into their bullshit and that I was not a good little self-hating fatty, things got even more vicious.  I won’t lie, I was not always pleasant myself, I can throw around some serious sarcasm when I want to.  But I was responding to individual asshats — they had judged me to be inferior before I even stepped on the scene.

Hate is a strange thing.  It’s so completely irrational.  It is a waste of time to try to reason with it, and yet that very fact makes me want to try.  I can’t understand its blindness.  I can’t understand how some one can look at an individual and see only one characteristic about them and hate them for it.  The ratio of adipose to muscle tissue in my body has no bearing whatsoever on my intelligence, or my ability to reason, or on my value as a human being, but to those people, it didn’t matter who I was orwhat I did, all that mattered was that particular characteristic.

I don’t regret the experience I had.  It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t fun, but it was important.  I learned that I am stronger and more resilient than I thought I was.  I learned that what I claim to believe really is what I believe, even in the face of violent opposition.  I gained some empathy for those who have to deal with this irrational hate every day, directed at skin color or sexual orientation or religion or any of the million other things people find to blindly despise.  But I  have to grieve a little for lost innocence.  Naivete is never a good thing, but it’s loss is painful.

So thanks, all you who participated in that thread.  I have taken your hate and turned it into good, and I will pray that sometime you can do the same.