Unexpected Side Effects

As a privileged, university-educated, straight-size, fit, able-bodied, middle class, white woman, I would like to whine that my frequent posting about fat acceptance, body positivity, anti-dieting, feminist, activist, and related topics seems to make some men think I'm insecure and soliciting validation when I'm really just spreading information and ideas.

Logic brain understands that these men are tone-deaf and simply don't understand any of the actual issues I write about and probably cannot without endeavoring to do difficult mental gymnastics. Jerkbrain now worries that I come across as insecure and weak and will make me think twice about all the things I post going forward.

Ironically, it's when others declare themselves the expert on my lived experience by telling me I'm insecure that makes me feel unsure of myself. I never knew I had a poor body image or poor self-esteem until men told me I did and patronizingly lectured me about inner beauty and offered their unsolicited opinions to validate my appearance and self-worth. (The fact that their actions were well-meaning does not change or conflict with the previous statement about them.)

A friend once messaged me privately with a page-long lecture about beauty, acceptance, and self-worth, in response to my many fat acceptance posts on Facebook. I explained to him that:

I’m fueled by a lot of anger at having spent most of my life swallowing the message that I'd have to spend the rest of my life battling my weight in order to be happy, healthy, wealthy, or loved, and so much anger that so many others continue to believe this.

Beyond just posting links on my own page and seemingly yelling a lot, I frequently engage in discussion in private groups about weight, health, and beauty with women who haven’t heard it yet and are grateful when they do. (And am also contributing a chapter to an anthology of perspectives on the fat acceptance movement.) 

Personally, I’m bored to death of being told I’m physically attractive, especially by men who are often clearly expecting my gratitude for their thinking so. I know I’m conventionally attractive; it’s boring. I didn’t earn it and don’t feel complimented. I don’t want to settle for reaping the benefits of my privilege without a though and I don’t want a world in which women of different sizes, abilities, colors, etc., have to accept that bigotry either. 

I can silently work to accept that I will never be a "normal" or a "healthy" weight according to the "experts." Or I can teach and remind everyone that BMI is not an indicator of health and should not be used to make policy, and I can influence the attitudes and opinions around me and ultimately convert everyone I know to the "Yay fitness!" party and not have to hear about diets and weight loss and body shame all around. 

I didn’t always know these things or feel this way; I came to them by reading and learning, and others will, too.

Ultimately, we realized he had meant to ASK about my feelings on the subject but in a strange misfire had ended up TELLING instead. Apologies were made and accepted and life went on.

Months later, I posted a selfie with a sign about setting a distance PR in the pool and completing a "Fit Fatty Virtual Event." I received a comment on the photo from another male friend along the lines of "I know you're insecure, but I don't consider you fat, and the people who know you know you're beautiful. Blah blah blah patronizing validation blah blah."

I responded with:

Alternatively, you could ask me what the Fit Fatty thing is about instead of projecting assumptions onto me. It's the name of forums and a Facebook group that are weight-neutral places to discuss fitness from a Health at Every Size perspective and are hosting a virtual decathlon event this year, which is why I'm posting the pictures. 

It's exceptionally rare to find communities where we can discuss fitness free from weight loss and diet talk.

And he deleted his comments before anyone else could see them.

I question whether my response was appropriate, too harsh, or too soft for the comment and the person and whether I should also have added:

1. I'm not fat. I know this and don't need you to tell me so.

2. There's nothing wrong with being fat and I genuinely look forward to the day that I fulfill my dreams of growing up to be a jolly, round Hobbit. (I come from an overwhelmingly obese family [no value judgment, just a fact]; it's really only a matter of time. But by then my body may be able to support competitive amateur weight lifting, and how cool would that be? /tangent)

As often as we think of the perfect comeback far too late, I think I did alright and managed to hide and overcome the shock and hurt feelings that the original comment triggered so suddenly and strongly.

Regarding this, a woman friend pointed out: 

Many women are insecure. Many women fish for compliments; not necessarily consciously. Men develop certain habits and assumptions in response.  

Mentioning weight, shape, diet or exercise is likely to trigger these habits more often than it triggers actual thought about what you posted.

I can't keep myself from judging people who fail to think before speaking.

Things that might have influenced such a bizarre, presumptive, and invasive comment:

I don't feel like I need to explain posts promoting equality, body positivity, size acceptance, healthy behaviors for all people regardless of body size, not judging people based on appearance including clothing size, etc.

When I complain (often at great length) about the obscene prices of gender-specific underwear required for exercise due to my apparently abnormal and grossly misproportioned body, nothing in that complaint is directed at my body. I'm angry at apparel makers for only catering to a paper-thin range of body types and I'm angry at the patriarchy for the fact that good sports bra designs don't even exist and I'm angry at both that I have to spend a minimum of $70 on an essential piece of clothing to support my running and fitness endeavors that only works because I happen to run slowly anyway.

My body is just lovely, but I could write a book about issues of access to safe, enjoyable forms of fitness and even finding exercise clothing in the necessary size, much less being able to afford it. (I wish I had time to write a book. That would be a good book.)

I said this about a photo taken immediately after running a fast mile:

"I fucking hate photos of myself working out and am this close to quitting the challenge because of the photo requirement."

When I complain about photos of my running and post-running because my hair is disheveled, my face flushed, and my body pouring sweat, it's really not a cry for validation and definitely not part of an overall trend of complaining about my appearance. Even as an advocate for body-positivity, surely I am allowed to despise gym and fitness selfies? Or do I have to love and brag about my appearance ceaselessly? I'm certainly capable, but it wouldn't be real and I'd probably lose a lot of friends.

I wish I had some snappy way to wrap this up: Think before you speak, learn to recognize a request for help or reassurance when there is one instead of reading it into random statements and offering help unsolicited, and just fucking Google it.

Fueled By Anger

In response to a private message that seemed somewhat concern-trolling and presumptuous from a generally well-meaning friend:

I’m fueled by a lot of anger at having spent most of my life swallowing the message that I'd have to spend the rest of my life battling my weight in order to be happy, healthy, wealthy, or loved, and so much anger that so many others continue to believe this. I’m really glad to hear that you think I’m preaching to the choir, but I receive enough other feedback to indicate the contrary. There are still men who prove the point of these articles when they comment on them.

Beyond just posting links on my own page and seemingly yelling a lot, I frequently engage in discussion in private groups about weight, health, and beauty with women who haven’t heard it yet and are grateful when they do. (And am also contributing a chapter to an anthology of perspectives on the fat acceptance movement.)

Personally, I’m bored to death of being told I’m physically attractive, especially by men who are often clearly expecting my gratitude for their thinking so. (This is not actually directed at you.) I know I’m conventionally attractive; it’s boring. I didn’t earn it and don’t feel complimented. I don’t want to settle for reaping the benefits of my privilege without a though and I don’t want a world in which women of different sizes, abilities, colors, etc., have to accept that bigotry either.

I can silently work to accept that I will never be a "normal" or a "healthy" weight according to the "experts." Or I can teach and remind everyone that BMI is not an indicator of health and should not be used to make policy, and I can influence the attitudes and opinions around me and ultimately convert everyone I know to the "Yay fitness!" party and not have to hear about diets and weight loss and body shame all around.

I didn’t always know these things or feel this way; I came to them by reading and learning, and others will, too.

Demonization of the Flesh

You might have considered taking up residence in a cave to escape the daily bombardment from TV shows and commercials, movies, magazine covers and ads, and ads on the most innocuous websites (news and even grammar blogs?) lecturing about what’s wrong with your body and appearance and clothes and shoes and diet and even the way you make love, and how to fix it all in 10 easy steps. Or at least I have.

Home isn’t safe either when families, too, are critical of bodies. Maybe not yours directly, but we’ve all heard them going on about their own weight and their diet, their weight loss, and moralizing about food and size, directly preaching the insidious and preposterous notion that thin = good and fat = bad.

The Church, with a romantic history as a supposed sanctuary from persecution, is one place you can be sure of God’s infinite love for all his children. Except for you, Obvious Gluttonous Sinner. We learn from a very early age that gluttony, overindulgence in food and drink characterized (and often caricatured) as slovenly obesity, is one of the 7 Deadly Sins. (I’m speaking from the experience of being raised Catholic, but the concepts may be familiar.)

Maybe your faith community didn’t focus on it so much, but the message was taught nonetheless and accepted as an understood and easy to follow truth. It starts as a small drop in the deluge of body negativity indoctrination and justifies those who believe that obesity is proof of gluttony, immorality, personal weakness, and failing in order to prop themselves up as righteous in their ability to control their own bodies.

There will always be people invested in reaping unearned advantages from the seeds sowed by oppression. It’s much easier than actually trying to be a good person, cultivate talents, or do anything productive with their lives. 

Let them think their ‘hard work’ spent chasing after thin privilege is the same as working hard to overcome prejudice, or raise a family, or pursue greater or higher knowledge, or survive in the face of challenges. 

It’s easier to pant on a treadmill and think yourself better than someone else than actually do something that makes you a better person, friend, partner, or member of the community.  -Arte to life on Thin privilege tumblr

Supposedly Gluttony is wasteful and withholds from the poor. How can one’s eating habits affect his or her ability to donate money or canned goods to charity or volunteer at a food pantry or free cafeteria? This is a “sin” that doesn’t actually affect or hurt anyone else in the world at all (like most sins, really) and doesn’t matter unless you’re fat. That is to say, no one will question a thin person’s eating habits on the basis of looking at his or her body, although “everyone knows” that overeating leads to obesity is a myth. And that there’s a strong relationship between food insecurity and overweight. So it’s pretty far from charitable to use values (the 7 Deadly Sins) made up by a man in the 4th Century as the basis for concern trolling or shaming people of size.

On the one hand, food is a spiritual experience, bringing people together in celebration and worship in the sacrament of Communion, where one literally consumes the body and blood of Christ, who fed 4 or 5 thousand people by multiplying a few loaves of bread and fish for a hungry crowd and turned water to wine to celebrate a wedding. Food is a celebration of life and the gifts given by the Creator . . . but only to a point? How much can we eat and how much are we allowed to enjoy it without committing sin? The Church sanctions feast days and holidays celebrated by feasting until we feel we’re about to burst. But eating arbitrarily “too much” and gaining weight warrants Confession.

Enjoying food, even lots of it, isn’t inherently immoral (nor for that matter are other things that make your body feel good, such as masturbation, sex, and blended fabrics). Consider the narrative, “I ate SO much! I feel like such a pig!” Pfft. I ate SO much because that food was freaking delicious and we were having such a great time. Food has important emotional, social, and cultural meanings and value outside of nutritional value alone that are necessary to recognize.

“Normal eating is trusting your body to make up for your mistakes in eating.” -Ellyn Satter

You need food to live, and your body, too. Your body is not a weak, traitorous lump of flesh divorced from the mind and designed to tempt you to evil. You are one being, you are whole, finely tuned over thousands of years to be the best human you can be.

And, frankly, spending a lifetime at war with yourself is no way live.

Why I talk about weight and health and Fat Acceptance so much

I’m privileged: I’m a 26-year-old, college-educated, middle class, straight-sized, cis-presenting, pretty, white woman. But I have been the victim of body shaming and mocking and direct insults from strangers and from family. I was told flat out last year by a brand new doctor who asked nothing of my food and exercise habits to lose weight. I had just run 3 miles that morning and was devastated and, of course, fired her.

Health at Every Size (HAES) and FA are important to me because every female member of my family (and most of the men, too) is obese and has been for the vast majority of their adult lives, excepting only me and my sister, probably because we’re the youngest and in our mid-twenties. I spent 25 years swallowing and dwelling on and obsessing over the message that I will spend the entirety of my life—DECADES—battling my weight, battling my genetics, waging war against my weak and traitorous body, and spent too much time blaming my family for their weight and my inevitable fate, before finding HAES.

I gave up calorie counting after college because it made me neurotic and obsessive and cranky and a miserable person and it probably qualified as disordered eating. And I was one of the “lucky” few who could easily manipulate my weight through exercise alone and enjoyed doing it. Weight loss has always come easily for me; maintenance has not. Since college, I’ve been bouncing back and forth within a 20 pound range and thinking that was normal. It’s not. It’s normal in that it aligns with most (95%) people’s  experiences with weight loss and gain, but it is not healthy or natural. Weight cycling does one more harm than being heavy.

I gave up restricted eating last year after reading a blog post from The Fat Nutritionist that outlined the exact cycle of just thinking about restricting a food triggering a binge response. The concepts of permission and intuitive eating allow me to eat better overall and enjoy every minute of it. Would you believe that I quickly dropped 5 or 6 pounds going into the holidays when I quit working out and began eating all the goodies I wanted after having maintained a steady weight for a few months? Having a healthy relationship with food means appreciating not only its nutritional value, but its emotional, social, cultural, and comfort values too and trusting your body to normalize fluctuations, such as partaking wholly of a holiday feast with people you love.

There is no science—NONE—to support intentional weight loss as a healthy behavior. It is NOT evidence-based medicine. And it IS, in fact, harmful. As a feminist, humanist, and skeptic, I am appalled at the cultural myths about thinness, the conflation of weight with health, and the rampant casual concern-trolling and discrimination against fat people.

And I am sick and tired of hearing everyone, especially people I care for, hate on their bodies and their weight, and of seeing their submission to the LIE that thin = happy/healthy/good/worthy.

Seriously,
Fuck You.
You’re wonderful.