As an adult I have tried not to hide my fatness behind sugary words to make them more pleasing to the people around me or the strangers that see me. Fluffy. “Curvy”. Fun Size. Party Size.
Nah. I am fat.
The words out there designed to make my body more accepted and marketable to potential lovers, bosses, friends, or whoever has the misfortune of getting caught in my personal magnetic field are not my words. They are not the words I choose to define me. I do not care about someone’s discomfort with the word fat or the preoccupation society has with it. I move and giggle and take up space in a world that thinks being fat is the worst thing you can be. I live every day trying to balance the self-loathing coded in what seems to be every cell, every fiber, every particle in me with the urge to love myself and my stretched out skin and my flesh. Most days the balance tips in the direction of self-loathing, all of my progress sliding to the floor and shattering only to make the next day harder; each time asking myself do you need to radically change yourself to love yourself.
The Husband had bariatric surgery about a year and a half ago. He has done phenomenally, sticking to his medical program and shedding weight. He moves better. He feels better. Medical issues he had have cleared up. I went with him to the information session for surgery. I went to the consultation and follow ups for my own potential surgery - a gastric bypass to help with the weight, pain, and medical issues that can sometimes accompany being fat. Everyone, the medical practitioners as well as myself, agreed I needed to work on my mental health and bring down my A1C before we could really moved forward. I never went back. Not because my process was delayed but because I can’t decide if it is right for me.
I don’t know if I have ever taken a diet seriously when I have tried to lose weight so a step like this seems drastic. I don’t exercise really. I gained back every pound I lost while working with doctors and then some. I am not happy with myself most of the time. But is something like this going to change that for me? Or will I just continue this balancing act at another size?
And then the internal argument bombards me with mixed messages that weigh me down further and make my heart ache. How can you feed into diet culture? How can you go outside when you look like this? Why let society dictate your appearance? How can you be a feminist if you think like this? Why did someone marry you, you cow? Why can’t you just practice what you preach and be stronger when it comes to body image? No one really loves you. No one really likes you, they just tolerate your existence because they feel bad for you. WHEN THE HUSBAND LEAVES YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE SO DISGUSTING, NO ONE WILL EVER WANT TO BE WITH YOU. YOU WILL DIE ALONE.
Let me tell you, this shit is exhausting. But I get it. I get why I fight this fight in my head. I preach the gospel of accepting yourself and your body to everyone yet at the end of the day I have nothing nice to say about myself or my body - other than I think my eyes are nice because they are so dark you can see through them to the depths of hell and that I am doing a-ok in the breast department. I try to reconcile this drift between who I am to myself and who I am to others. How can I continue writing as my authentic self if my self is in what seems like a lifelong civil war?
So I simmer, letting these thoughts marry until over and over the same thought bubbles to the surface gasping for oxygen: is thinness the key to happiness?
I can’t believe it is. That is one thought I can reject even if it fights its way to the top continually. Rearranging my organs can’t cause happiness. Starving myself can’t cause happiness. Fighting myself can’t cause happiness. Could this be the moment where I let go of the years of bullshit? The diet culture and shame that seem to be bred into me? Is this where I lean in to the wind and let my weight, for once, work in my favor - letting it tip me over so I can fall in love with myself?
** Hey Friends. Apologies for my lack of posts. Some personal stuff came up and took me out of the game for a bit. But, I am back! **
Canadian actress/comedian Nicole Arbour put out a YouTube video that is breaking the internet. Dear Fat Peopleis her open letter to fat people in which she uses outdated, juvenile humor veiled as satire to shame and criticize fat people. Having a laugh at the expense of those who are fat is nothing new, so why is there been such an uproar about this video? People are making response videos. People of all body types. There has been an incredible amount of support for the fat community. The video and channel were flagged to YouTube and all content was taken off the channel for a few days. Some people are arguing this was a publicity stunt by Arbour (she tweeted out that she broke the internet with comedy and that satire is being censored) as everything, including Dear Fat People, has been restored and the number of views has skyrocketed.
I have watched this video twice, once out of curiosity and once to decide how I wanted to talk about it. While I don’t agree with her point of view, I don’t agree it should be taken down when there is MUCH worse out there. That being said, I won’t link the video because I don’t feel like the video deserves the viral attention it is receiving. Later in this post, I will post Whitney Way Thore’s response which includes clips of the original.
But let’s get back to what this video says and why it’s an issue.
It isn’t Arbour’s use of juvenile humor that is offensive, it is her insistence that she is doing fat people a favor by telling them this and that fat shaming is non-existent. Anyone who doesn’t fit into an “ideal” size gets shit for their body at some point. Whether it is looks or comments, it happens far more than it should. Since “fat” is considered one of the worst things you can call someone due to fatphobia and increasingly unattainable body ideals, the term fat is used to shame people of all body sizes. I have friends that are thin and hour glassed shaped who have men call them “fat bitches” (or worse) when they deny advances. If fat is the go to word to demean someone or shame them for something you do not agree with/want/do/whatever, then perhaps it isn’t something fat people just made up so others would feel sorry for us. She goes on to say that fat shaming is a great idea: we (fat people) should be shamed until we have better habits. BITCH, YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE. It doesn’t matter if you start the video off by saying if someone is fat because of a medical condition this isn’t aimed at them. That is the equivalent of telling someone off by starting with “with all due respect.” You can’t tell by looking at someone if they have a medical condition or are on a medication that has caused them to gain weight. Spoiler Alert, Nicole: It’s invisible. The kid you made fun of in your video could have a condition but you still feel the need to be unnecessarily cruel to and about them. I, for one, have PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) which in addition to making it 100 times harder to get pregnant and makes me grow in a full beard (watch out No Shave November office battle, I am kicking your ass this year), makes gaining weight as easy as breathing but losing it nigh impossible. Outwardly, other than the occasional five o’clock shadow, I look like everything is in fine working condition. The assumption that fat people are ticking time bombs of premature death is archaic at best. Yes, for some people there can be health complications but those same complications exist for everyone depending on their health and family history. Plus size doesn’t necessarily mean plus heart disease or plus diabetes as Arbour will happily tell you. She also likens the thought that obesity is a disease to someone being a shopaholic, and the idea of being body positive to being pro-meth use or smoking.
The problem with fat shaming, other than the obvious, is the lasting effect it has on people. There are numerous studies that prove an approach like that doesn’t work. Pretending to care about someone’s health to shame them into losing weight often has the opposite effect. It causes depression, further body dysmorphia, and in some cases can lead to self harm or suicide. Comments, however funny they are supposed to be (like Arbour’s suggestion that the natural aroma of fat people is sausage and that Crisco comes out of our pores or that our friends should be telling us what she is), matter. It isn’t a matter of needing to acquire thicker skin or more self confidence. When you are the punch line to everyone’s joke and made to feel less than, how are you supposed to gain confidence? Isn’t fat shaming (and similar tactics) meant to bring down confidence and keep things in a mythical state of status quo? Why are people so afraid to see fatties happy?
Fat happiness is a slap in the face to everything society tells us is correct. Much like women or poc (people of color for those who were unsure) or any other group that is seen as “lesser” being successful and strong or happy is seen as defiant. When so much time is devoted to making whole populations feel like something is wrong with them solely because of appearance, gender, race, what have you - to move past that and live life on your own terms is seen as a threat, a reason to tighten the reigns and inflict further tactics of oppression or ridicule. Fat is seen as acceptable in certain areas, as Arbour points out. She loves church going “big, black women” who can sing (...really? You had to go there?). That, to her and many others, is an acceptable type of fat. Older folks are ok too. Just about everyone else falls into the “YOU ARE A TERRIBLE HUMAN, IF I CAN EVEN CALL YOU THAT, YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED. MY EYESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS” category.
Whatever “bombs of truth” Nicole Arbour felt like she was dropping, fatties and non-fatties alike came out of the woodwork to discuss why this mentality is upsetting, unnecessary, and in some cases dangerous. Whitney Way Thore, star of the TV show My Big, Fat, Fabulous Life put out a response video as well. She was even on CNN about it. Which is phenomenal. A leap for all fat(and human)kind. Whitney also has PCOS (what up, Cyster?) and gets judged for things she can’t control. Her response:
Preach, Boo, Preach.
The biggest issue with Arbour's video, at least to me, isn't touched upon in Whitney's response. Nicole Arbour makes it a point to say that being fat is selfish as it takes you away from those that love you earlier than if nature took its course. If that kind of twisted guilt trip isn't enough, she ices this shit-cake with saying that she, our friends, our loved ones should be able to enjoy us as human beings. Direct quote "...enjoy you as human beings." DAFUQ?
Her message essentially is: Fat shaming isn't real. I, and my fellow fatties, smell of sausage and sweat Crisco. Being comfortable in my own body should be frowned upon. My friends are lying to me if they aren't telling me what a hideous blubber monster I am. And to top it all off, I am not human because of my size.
To discount my feelings to the point that I, and those like me, should feel inhuman for something like body shape/size is, honestly, fucking disgusting. This is the line of the video that I wish everyone was attacking. Forget her awful humor, terrible effects, and the fact that this a piss poor excuse for satire. People are jumping to her defense as well, agreeing with her message as if it were gospel. Those people are hearing that fat people are less than human. People who already have terrible self-esteem and depression are hearing that they are less than human. LESS THAN HUMAN. Let that sink in. No one tells you they could enjoy you as a human if you were a brunette instead of a blonde. We all deserve to be treated like we matter. All of us. Even assholes like Nicole Arbour. I have been pretty open about depression and anxiety here, and in the interest of keeping it 100% real, let me drop this bomb on you:
Most days, I feel less than human. Not just because I am fat, my size is something I have come to terms with for the most part, even if I lapse on feeling body positive sometimes. But because I feel unworthy of existence. For a variety of reasons. There are days I wish I could stop existing. Days I pray, hope, wish to just not be. Not to actually take my life (which I have thought of before) but just to vanish. To simply not be. While I do not act on it, there are others who do. And if they feel like I do, like I have, like I am sure I will continue to, a video like Nicole Arbour's might be the thing that they interpret as a sign that proves every negative thing to cross their mind.
This kind of trash is what pulls people into dark places they may never get out of. This is the kind of trash we need to defend our selves and our loved ones against. Because it isn't just fat people - it is just more acceptable to direct it at fat people. It is people of other races, other genders, gay people, trans people, it is everyone who has been held down because they disrupt a social "norm."
The Husband was enlisted to help me name this game. Fat Freedom bingo was what he came up with. And I love it. But I hemmed and hawed about it being too exclusionary. My main issue was that so many people have issues with their bodies and many of the items on the list are "trouble areas" to them. My goal here is to give a large middle finger to society here. So I changed it. Effyastandahds (can you tell where I am from?) seemed to sum up my feelings on this completely bananas idea that we should police each other's bodies and clothing and actions.
Rules, ways to get extra points, prize info, and bingo card are below. I hope those of you participating have fun and those who aren't enjoy the photos as they are posted! Here's to a happy summer spent breaking barriers and smashing the patriarchy.
-MPA
#effyastandahdsbingo
Rules: -You don't have to be fat or identify as female to play! Join your fat friends in standing up to some truly stupid ideals and take some really cute selfies in the process. -Take a photo of yourself doing or wearing some of the "Forbidden" things listed on the bingo card. -Traditional bingo rules apply. To achieve bingo, you need all 5 items in a horizontal line, vertical line, or diagonal line. -Multiple entries are allowed. -When posting photos: if you have an app of collaging, it will totally make your life easier. If not, post all pictures that apply. They can be posted here in the comments, on Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, or Facebook. Please post once all five at once. -Photos should be tagged with your name as well having me tagged in the comments (so I can easily find them): Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/cupcakesandcrossbows /Tumblr- tfdmelissa / Twitter- cupcakesnxbows / and Insta- whofavorsfire. Please also use the following tags: #ccacb #effyastandahdsbingo -Winners will be selected at my discretion with no preference given to those I know personally. If the decision gets tough, I may rope The Husband in to help. -All submissions must be posted by Labor Day (The last real summer weekend! September 7.)
Extra Credit Extra points will be awarded for: -Incorporating donuts into a picture for the free space (No picture necessary as it is the free space). -Wearing the Target trophy t-shirt OR making a #takingbackTROPHY shirt (please tag these with #takingbackTROPHY as well!). -Following me on Facebook or subscribing to the blog.
Prizes: -There will be 5 prizes awarded, one of which will be the Grand Prize. -What they are, or monetary value, is currently TBA. But I promise it will be fun and not expensive. -Winners will be notified by private message as well as announced on the blog. I will not use photos without the permission of those that submit them.
For those of you who do not know: Tess Holliday is a beautiful, majestic creature that we mere mortals are not worthy of.
For those of you who still do not know: Tess Holliday is a size 22 model who recently was on the cover of people magazine. THE COVER. She has also done Vogue Italia. And did a look book for Torrid. This is a big (ba dum tssss) (see what I did there?) deal.
People on the left, Vogue Italia on the right. MAJECTIC CREATURE AMIRITE?!?!?!
This lady has brought plus-size to the plus-size modeling game. Traditionally, plus-size models were in the size 10-12 range. In my brain, anything over a 16 is plus-size as that is where you typically stop finding availability in stores. A lot of plus-sized retailers are pushing their size brackets further down - Torrid now starting at 12 and Lane Bryant at 14 for example. While I would love to argue what actually *is* plus, that is not for today.
With Tess' media visibility, we have a new plus-size icon. One that models plus-size cloths on a plus-size body. I truly mean no offense to the models in the 10-12 range that model the smaller end of plus-size clothes. Keep on, keepin' on. Y'all are beautiful. It is just nice to see what an item would look like on a body similar to mine. It's humbling, inspiring, refreshing, and a little bit revolutionary. Something that had myself and many of my fat peers had access to growing up could have helped with body dysmorphia, self esteem, and a lot of other issues in a major way.
Unfortunately, we live in a society where making fun of or criticizing fat people (and yes, it is ok to say fat. I promise.) is still considered funny, valid, and completely acceptable. It is one of the last bastions assholes can hold on to and not get called out for when expressing their opinions. A sub-cockle of the internet where perceived anonymity and distance fuels self-righteous indignation that someone dare to be different than their perceived norm.
I understand fat people are not the only ones attacked online or in real life for their appearance. What I am saying is that it is still considered acceptable to do it. THAT is the problem.
Having someone like Tess, who is fearlessly and unapologetically herself, is something we (please understand this we as the fat folks of the universe) desperately need. People need to see those that mirror themselves in a positive light from an early age. We need role models of all shapes, sizes, races, religions, sexualities, genders - You name it, we (this time, I mean all of us, not just my fat folks) need it. But more than anything, we need role models that look like us. Strong people, trail blazing for those to follow.
Recently, the crop top has been a heated debate. Fearless fat babe and feminist Virgie Tovar wrote a Buzzfeed article about fat people in crop tops. Regardless of size, we shouldn't police women's bodies. Clothing is an expression of self and should not be mocked or ridiculed. Tess posted a totally adorable photo set of her in a crop top. The backlash on both Virgie's article and Tess' photo as well as anything that is close to fat-positive is met with so much vitriol it is nauseating to read. And I always read the comments. Because I am a glutton for punishment and terrific at making myself feel bad. Here is a tame example of the shit slinging people do:
Tess in all her adorable glory.
Sadly, this truly is tame when it comes to the backlash fat people get for posting pictures on the internet. Especially if they look like they are enjoying themselves or consuming food/beverage. Even if as a fat person you live a healthy lifestyle, eat well/balanced, exercise, and/or have a great bill of health from your doctor people assume the worst and lecture you for your choices. And health is always the reason they do it. Looking out for your health, because you are promoting an unhealthy lifestyle, possible health issues in the future, etc. No one looks at the socio-economic ties. Or that some medications and conditions make you gain weight rapidly and make it almost impossible to lose said weight (look! a health reason that is legit!). While they may only be words, when younger people read these comments the linger effect can be devastating. Shit, it can be devastating to anyone...myself included.
Reading the comments, for me, is always a terrible idea. The negativity is consuming and crushing. Growing up fat without role models in the media was tough. I didn't feel right or normal or that I had worth. As an adult I still grapple with that daily. I may understand they are only words and opinions of people I will most likely never meet, the knowledge that this is how people could potentially feel about me breaks my spirit. I used to like the beach. I spent almost every day of the summer there or quite a few years. Now? Twice a year tops: the Fourth of July and our nephews' family birthday party. Why? Because I am fat. People don't want to see fat people at the beach.
To fear being in public at a place that was once a source of joy is the worst kind of mindfuck you can ask for. When a place of atonement (and one that made me feel connected to my family and roots) becomes a place of fear and anxiety, you lose a sacred thing. You lose a part of yourself and with that a great deal of dignity. For me, it doesn't end at the beach. It has carried over into most aspects of my life. The idea of being considered repulsive does not motivate me to lose weight. It makes me retreat into the darkest corners of my mind where I point everything wrong with me and let the weight (I did it again! ba dum tsss) of other people's opinions crush me.
If you have followed this blog, you may say "hold up, MPA. Aren't you in Rocky Horror? Don't you run around in very little in front of an audience?" Yes, I do. I play two of the less dressed roles (Janet and Dr. Frank-N-Furter) as well as one of the most covered (Magenta). I freak out about it before every show, right up until I am on stage. And then sometimes for the whole show. But I do it. As weird as Rocky Horror is, the community is often welcoming and hold the core belief of "Don't Dream it, Be it." I am still paralyzed with fright that I am too fat or ugly or terrible or repulsive to go out there. I push myself to help reclaim parts of my dignity and pride.
Me, doing the thing. Trying to be brave. Hilariously blocking out my cast mates' faces
So, why am I talking about this? I wanted to cosplay The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl for Boston Comic Con. I was so down for this. But I read the comments. I let people's issues and negativity get the best of me. I retreated, allowing myself to be swallowed up in the storm of my own darkness and decided maybe it isn't the best choice. Even though she has on leggings/tights, she is still wearing a bathing suit. I know I could pull it off - For Christ's sake, I prance around in a corset on stage for 2 hours after a small breakdown...I got this - but my infantile confidence falters when I realize there will be pictures. And not ones I have consented to. I may become a punching bag for the internet and I just don't know if I am strong enough to handle that. I shouldn't have to fear this. No one should, yet this is the reality of being fat (and a woman) in our world.
Perhaps we need to sit back and really think about why we feel we can comment so negatively on others when we know nothing about them. Perhaps we need to think about how our actions and words, written or spoken, effect those they are aimed at as well as those reading or listening.
Until then, I am going to continue trying to be (unapologetically) my authentic self. And try to live by some of Tess' words:
**This post will, toward the end, discuss a sexual encounter with The Husband. It is fairly detail-less and not at all porn-y but the disclaimer is there.** I follow some body positive blogs on the internet and tumblr. While I identify with those that lean on the more fat positive (duh.), I feel strongly that it is just as hard to be “too” skinny as well. Lately, a lot of the blogs I have looked at are focusing on larger women wearing whatever they damn well please(Fatkinis, crop tops and leggings, etc)regardless of our fatphobic culture. The idea is to own your largeness instead of being afraid of it. To find what makes you the whole motherfucking package to someone. But mostly, to see the beauty others seen in you and feel sexy(so scandalous for a fattie!) in your skin.
How does one feel sexy while fat while living in the good ol’ USofA? Is it lingerie? Is it walking around the house naked as a jaybird while telling yourself you are sexy? Is it wearing whatever you please, whenever you please and not internalizing the stares or comments?
Clearly, I have no idea. I never have. Sexy is not something I feel. There are days why the jiggle of my thighs or the swaying of my arms/wings doesn’t bother me. Days when my double chin doesn’t disgust me to some degree. For years I stopped going to the beach on the premise that I was doing others a favor-they didn’t have to see me in a bathing suit. In all actuality, it was my deepest fear thatpeople would stare and make comments-or mistaken me for a very white, beached whale that had this misfortune of eating a plus-sized swimmer before getting tangled in her tragically ugly clearance one-piece.I mean, Jeezey Creezey, I have been in a Rocky Horror cast on and off since high school and two weeks ago wore the least I have ever worn in a show (It was a bitchin’ Eve costume I made for an Epic Rap Battle pre-show). Even then all I kept saying to The Husband and anyone who listened was hownaked I felt. But the subtext there was not that I was showing a lot-I wore a tunic length tank top with a garter belt, two pairs of underwear, and fishnet thigh highs (in the RHPS that is pretty damn covered!)-but more that I felt like I looked… Fat.
Now, Iam fully aware of my size. I 100% am fat. There is no sugar coating that. The word fat doesn’t bother me. If anything, the only term that bothers me is the hushed way people describe you as “a bigger girl.” Just grow a pair, say fat, and move on. Obviously I looked fat. You can’t hide what you are. My concern wasn’t that I hoped I somehow looked less large than usual… but that I looked fat in a way that makes thinner people look at me with pity. The look that toes the line between feeling bad that I look the way I do and being disgusted that I have the audacity to dress in so little in front of them. This look is what has made me take a back seat in the show since high school. I can count one hand the times I have played a major role in the show. Each one had options for remaining fully clothed. Each pre-show I was in kept with that trend. I spent most of my time doing tech work or stage managing.
Recently, I lost a little weight. I am not trying to diet. I am trying to eat better: less take out, less meat, and more veggies. I am trying to limit gluten so I don’t spend hours in pain. Exercise and I have a very limited relationship. Will that change? Yes. Not because I feel like I need to be a size 2 but because I want the next big adventure in my life to involve children and I need to take care of myself before I can take care of others. This weight loss isn’t major. It’s a step in feeling more comfortable in my skin. Comfortable but not sexy. I give far fewer fucks about my thighs jiggling or touching or the inevitable chub-rub I get when wearing skirts and dresses. In an effort to embrace this new-ish me, I decided to leave the lights on during sexy-time with The Husband. *Please note, this incident took place at the height of my weight loss a few months ago* Lights on. All jiggly parts visible. Not cowering in the dark or hiding under a blanket. I, for the first time in recent memory, attempted to own my largess. Things were going quite well, until I looked at my shadow.
What possessed me to look to the side where the wall was is unknown.But there, where myback should be was a tsunami of back fat that rippled and threatened to break on my head, drowning me in an eddy of shame.I could feel it move but it wasn’t until I saw it that everything came crashing (da dum tsss) down.If I can see this, how terrible must it be for him? The current is moving away from him, so I guess it is ok? How disgusting am I? How grossed out must he be that this is what he married?I have waves of back fat that could devastate a small island nation.And then I started crying. Uncontrollably. And then weeping. Unable to breath, weeping, panic attacking, nauseated, nose running, hot mess crying. Nothing gets you a one way ticket out of boner-ville like the above stated trauma. Naturally, The Husband handled it like a champ assuring me he did not feel that way and that I was beautiful, etc. It didn’t help. If anything, it made me feel worse. This is when I really jumped off the better eating wagon. Which naturally made me feel even more terrible about myself.
What have I learned from this? I have no idea how to feel sexy. Wearing next to nothing: Epic Fail. Losing weight and lights on sexy time: Epic Fail. Maybe the answer is to get a crop top and some (more) leggings. Maybe the answer is using RHPS to put myself out there more in front of others. Until then, I will rock my graphic tees, jeans, and cardigans while lamenting it isn’t cool enough out for tent-like sweatshirts.
