I have discussed my issues with food before - the resentment of the time and energy it takes, the hatred of how ill it makes me when I haven’t been eating for a while. It makes this article difficult for me in more ways than just the unexpected sadness for a woman who cannot allow herself to, in her words, take part.
And at the same time, I recognize a life of mine that could have been. If I hadn’t found my own stubborn way to fat acceptance, there is no doubt in my mind that I would still be denying myself the world out of some misguided sense that I did not deserve it. I doubt I’d be thin - my body just doesn’t seem cut out for that. But the mind set? Oh, yes.
That manta - “I’d rather be thin than healthy or happy” - would be my watchwords and, from this distance, I feel a sharp pain for the me that might have been, for the other people who are still caught in that, for the people who, like Liz Jones, feel it is too late for them.
There is another anguish right now, too - it is the knowledge that, and I’ve already seen comments and posts to this effect, there are people who will admire her self-restraint, her “healthy” thinness (at 5′8″ and about 114 pounds). Because, you know, all fatties are fat because we live to eat and do nothing but and we’re all going to die after having limbs amputated due to diabetes. *sigh*
This is the world we live in, the world that views as admirably thin and healthy a woman who has clear and precise memories of the first time she refused to eat butter, who VOMITS up food that is not vegan on command and in public, a woman who herself exhorts people to stop being crazed about the beach bikini body. This is the world that ignores Liz’s voice and sees only what it wants to see - a thin woman who eats the way we are supposedly all supposed to be eating, a woman incapable of allowing herself even the indulgence of being happy.
ETA: One of the other things that immediately struck me as I read this article is how similar Liz’s experience with her sister was, in many ways, to experiences Harriet Brown has related, particularly the refeeding process. I have to wonder if Liz’s sister hasn’t read some of Harriet’s work. One can hope.
There is a certain class of guy who, well-intentioned as he might be, thinks that reassuring an individual fat woman that HE likes fat chicks and thinks they are sexy. And, you know, I really do understand that this is supposed to be a compliment.
However.
This is really just another example of “Acceptable Fat is the fat I want to fuck.”
And, lemme tell you: You acceptability and worth as a person is NOT determined by whether or not some random dude would tap that.
I mean, I don’t usually bust out with the feminist polemics but when men try to offer that reassurance - or try to insist that fat is unattractive because of hip-to-waist ratio and that means it is unhealthy and socially unacceptable (while inviting reasoned arguments to the contrary - yes, spammed comment, I am looking at you) - it really grosses me out.
That sort of thing makes too many assumptions. Assumptions like, oh, I don’t know, the value of women being determined by their fuckability. And not their fuckability in general - their perceived fuckability by white, middle class, mainstream guys.
Do I even have to throw the word patriarchy out there?
It also assumes that all women are performing attractiveness for the benefit, specifically, of the mens. Maybe that’s why lesbians are both super attractive and scary to so many straight men? The idea that men are not, strictly speaking, necessary?
In any event, it is not the job of women to be attractive. We have shit to do that does not include providing, for example, entertainment for construction workers as we walk down the road. We have things to accomplish that are more important than being eye/arm candy, than being fantasy objects, than being representations of what the dominant cultural paradigm tells us we should be even if that image is completely unrelated to the reality of our physical being.
And, you know, this is not to say that women need to reject “looking nice”, for whatever value of nice they prefer, out of hand! I mean, I love me the hell out of some makeup, which I may have mentioned a time or two here. And I like pretty dresses and fancy shoes and I spend more time thinking about shoes than I do about, like, calculus.
But I also don’t NEED that stuff to make me acceptable. None of us do.
So if I don’t meet up with some random guy’s notion of fuckable, that’s actually okay.
Because you don’t have to want to have sex with every woman in the world, dude. Women have value that is not tied to your penis.
I’m not offended that you don’t want to pork me. (See what I did there?)
In fact, I probably don’t want to have sex with you either.
And that’s okay - you still have value as a person. I’m not going to harass you or make assumptions about your lifestyle or try to force you into a mold that would make you more sexually attractive to me (I’m just saying, men in black eyeliner = A++). I’m not going to treat you as though you are subhuman or somehow a waste of space and societal resources. Hey, we can even hang out in a friendly fashion and then go back to our respective personal spaces and have sex with people who DO find us each attractive and whom we find attractive in return! Our personal relationship doesn’t have to involve that dynamic - or the desire for that dynamic.
Just… Guys, get it through your heads. Your cock doesn’t determine my worth as a person. Not if you think I’m hot and not if you think I’m disgusting.
Filed under: Discussion, Media — TR June 30, 2009 @ 10:17 am
I feel a certain amount of guilt for this because I know a lot of people think she is amazing - and I’m glad she is enjoying so much popularity and that people are looking up to her as a fat role model.
But I can’t stand Adele’s music.
There, I said it. Also? I don’t like Mika’s music one little bit.
Whew.
I do like the Gossip for the most part, at least. *grin*
Ultimately, I am so so glad that we do not have to all like the same things - I just feel kind of bad that I have the chance to support a fat musician and I can’t do it because the music itself just isn’t working for me on any level.
Are there fat icons that you want to love but just can’t because you don’t enjoy their artistic product?
So, I had a blast in Minneapolis - it’s a really nice city - at least when there’s no snow - and I got to meet some very totally awesome people. The reading was fantastic and there was some great discussion that has sparked some upcoming blog posts, too.
But the reason I was there in the first place was to go to Kate’s reception - which I did, which was great. And on Saturday, as part of getting ready for the evening reception, I went and had a manicure and pedicure.
Now, maybe I’m just more self-indulgent than most, but it always surprises me when someone I know has never had a manicure or pedicure (for reasons other than economic - this is, unfortunately, a self-indulgence that is only accessible at a price). And the reason it surprises me is because it’s kind of totally awesome.
It’s a moment (or a couple of hours) when you have to sit still and let someone do something for you, something specifically to and for your body. For a lot of people, not just fatties, this can be really stressful because how many times are we told we don’t deserve that sort of thing, how often are we grossed out by something as simple as our own feet?
I know I’ve written about this in a massage/spa treatment context before - at least I think I have. And the tips for that sort of thing remain the same: call ahead to inquire about robe sizing and get a sense of the fat-friendliness of the spa, request a specifically gendered massage therapist if that aids your comfort level, rule of thumb: most massage tables are rated to at least 500 pounds and you can ask if you aren’t sure.
Going in for a manicure and pedicure doesn’t even require that kind of pre-req work, as a general thing. If you’re going for a super fancy pedicure, you can always call and inquire about the seat sizing ahead of time, but for most regular spa pedicures, at least as far as research and personal experience have led me to believe, you’ll be just fine. Let the nail tech know if you are nervous or ticklish or particularly sensitive or anything like that.
Getting a mani/pedi is not an imperative. You don’t have to pay someone to polish your nails - or do them yourself or care one whit. But if you’re into this sort of thing, being fat (or being nervous because of inexperience or perceived class differences) shouldn’t stop you. It’s the nail tech’s job to put you at ease. You can get recommendations from friends, you can call and talk to people on the phone beforehand. You can throw caution to the wind and grab a walk-in appointment (which is actually what I generally do).
Though I can totally recommend Juliana at the Ivy Spa Club in Minneapolis, Minnesota as someone who did not make me feel like I was imposing my unshaven legs and tragically neglected cuticles on her. *grin*
I just…. I see so many people walking through the world who think they do not deserve nice things. Often, it is because they are fat. Because a lifetime of abuse has left them with a certain attitude. It’s the sort of thing where we are all too good at policing each other for things Fat People Just Don’t Do - like when we get catty about “well, fat girls just shouldn’t wear skinny jeans” or whatever the latest hot nonsense is.
Let me tell you this: being fat is no good reason not to do something nice for yourself. I’d put together a fatty pedicure party if I were able - a bunch of fatties all hanging out while this little piggy gets polished Russian Navy and this little piggy gets a french manicure.
I has them. And I have a few outfit ideas. But I thought it’d be fun to throw it out there to y’all - especially since, yes, I know some people think they are horrifying (LESLEY, I AM LOOKING AT YOU).
Honestly, that’s half the point.
I like my fatshion to be performative, half whoooo, yay, I like awesome colors, and half Try To Make Me Invisible, Punk. Obviously not everything I own is so… aggressively in people’s face, but I like fashion that is a challenge.
Since it’s the middle of the summer, I’m looking to pair these with some sort of swingy black top and maybe some black gladiator sandals.
What kind of outfit would you build with these? If any at all. *grin*
So, I posted about The Morrissey Dilemma and then I went shopping. Because the universe has a sense of humor, I found two pairs of jeans with no problem for under $60 - not per pair but total (also, Avenue’s sizing is even more wack than usual). I found a fancy dress for a wedding reception this weekend that fit great, a neon yellow shirt, and even a pair of bathing suit separates that should kick butt once my size comes in (already ordered - and on sale, bonus, Torrid is turning into my go-to store).
This is one of those crazy situations where I am finding the stuff I need - and Lane Bryant is even having their annual bra sale. This is the time to strike while the fatshun is hot!
That’s often how it goes - there’s good stuff and then nothing (these waves of plenty vary in timing according to personal taste); it’s one of the major problems with the inconsistent availability of basics. So, if they can, a lot of fats practice fashion hoarding. But if you’ve not got the available funds to stock up, you’re up the proverbial creek without a paddle.
In other words: Poorer fats can’t hoard.
Well, poorer fats can’t hoard as easily - I’ll offer the qualifier because there is always the person who comes in and says “well, they can save up!” as if it’s just that easy.
ETA: I am inserting a note about thrift stores: Fat clothes in thrift stores are like diamonds, dude. Hard to find, hard to recognize, impossible to count on. My personal theory is that because fats tend to hoard their clothes, fewer things get sent to thrift stores to begin with. And the larger you are, the scarcer the thrifting gets. Thrifting is also not a viable option in all areas.
At various points in my life, especially when I was fresh out of college, buying a new bra was an expense that I had to plan for months in advance. I lived in actual fear of my bras wearing out, of underwires breaking, of elastic giving up.
When I hear criticism of fashion choices made by fat people, especially when those criticisms are offered by young, smaller fats with some degree of economic privilege (which is not to dog on young, smaller fats with economic privilege - I’m just talking about my own issue here), I often wind up really angry. Not because there is a difference of taste but because that difference in taste eclipses and obscures the very real differences in available resources.
In the last few years I’ve had more resources at hand. But I remember with perfect clarity digging through big black garbage bags of second hand clothes that people would bring me - stuff their fat family members had dug out of their closets because they didn’t want it anymore. There’s a certain smell to clothes that have been bagged up and brought to you as charity, I tell you what. It isn’t precisely a bad smell but it’s there and it lingers.
It lingers in my outlook, too. I can afford to stock up on bras a bit more now. But that attitude of making do, that sticks around, too, and I think that’s why it can be so frustrating to hit the brick wall of “I need shoes” or whatever it is.
I realize this is kind of rambly, but I think it has to be because there are no easy answers to how to negotiate this. There is no magical source of stylish, well-made clothes that exist at an accessible price point for everyone (hell, sometimes that is true no matter what your price point, it seems). But the style standards for fatties - often enforced with particular stringency inside the fatty fashion community - are even more exacting that standards for straight sizes. I feel like there has to be a way to build our community with the understanding that socio-economics and class are real issues that intersect and complicate the already thorny issue of fatshion. Throw in other intersections of oppression and it gets even MORE complex.
And I think we should not shy away from that complexity. I don’t talk about fashion a lot here because my style is, to borrow a phrase from HGTV, taste-dependent. But also because a lot of my fatshion is built around clearance items and things scrounged from the back of my closet that are 10 years old. I mean, that sort of thing is not really useful to a lot of people.
Maybe it’s time we start talking about that for ourselves.
Another ETA: Unapologetically Fat has been posting a really great Sewing At Any Size series that I wanted to link to. I do want to emphasize, though, that sewing is not a cure-all. I totally recommend that people learn to sew but even gaining a new, resource-intensive skill can tax already stressed finances beyond the breaking point. Sewing used to be a far more economical way to outfit yourself but there’s a lot more emphasis on sewing as an indulgence, as a luxury - and that’s reflected in the cost of supplies. So, totally, if you have the resources, it will make a huge difference but please don’t assume it isn’t something anyone can just pick up.
I’ve been thinking, this morning, about the ways in which being fat has an impact on my daily living.
I mean, it sucks when I’m trying to find a new doctor or when I have to deal with ingrained anxiety about being treated for an actual symptom (because my doctor is great but I still have anxiety). And it sucks when I’m waiting to board the airplane that has obviously been oversold and I’m the fattest person at the gate. And it sucks when I’m trying to negotiate my lingering resentment towards food and my need to, you know, freakin’ just eat something already.
But it mostly sucks when it comes to clothes. In other words, I would go out tonight, but I haven’t got a stitch to wear*. In other other words, I’ve started calling this problem The Morrissey Dilemma.
BuffPuff talks about this a fair amount: if clothes are a form of self-expression and we are denied the means to express ourselves, what then? This topic comes up on the livejournal fatshionista community all the time, too. And the other day I was talking with Lesley about the highly performative nature of my own wardrobe.
See, I have been doing freelance and book promotion stuff for the last month - it means I don’t leave the house except to go do THINGS. And, really, the cats don’t care if I’m wearing the same black yoga pants that I wore yesterday. And the day before yesterday. Don’t you judge me.
The cats don’t need me to make a statement about my identity because they know me - and they have brains the size of walnuts so, you know, there is some debate about whether or not they would even care. *laugh*
So, in many ways, for me, getting dressed is the hardest part of being fat. And that is pretty much the most ridiculous thing ever. I mean, it’s CLOTHES. It’s one of those things we’re all taught is frivolous and a waste of our time and energy (especially when we’re running late or, you know, in high school).
But, in my experience, being fat means your clothes are never just clothes - they’re a political statement even if you don’t want to make one.
My cats don’t care if I wear the same black yoga pants but, you know, I’m not going to leave the house in them. And only part of that is about identity expression. The rest of it is because right now I don’t have the energy to deal with people judging me based solely on that. Sometimes I do and I run my errands dressed however the hell I want. And there’s a lot of political and personal power in that, too, in being able to brush off the looks of “oh, look, a fat person in baggy clothes”. But getting dressed is incessantly a tiptoe through the landmines of what energy I have, where I have to go, and what clothing is available to me.
With more and more plus lines being yanked from stores (most of which never went to a size that I could wear anyway), getting dressed is more and more a battle where a ceasefire is not going to be called.
I think this is why so many fatties pull together true personal style - working hard to find elements that work for them and then making those elements distinctly their own. I love it when people post about the look they have worked to achieve - a blend of personal style and political statement and ingenuity because it is damn hard.
My style? Is not that cohesive. *grin* And sometimes it just doesn’t come together because I don’t have the damn tools. I stopped going dancing entirely at one point because I can really only dance in flat-heeled boots and I couldn’t find any to fit my calves.
And that is the essence of The Morrissey Dilemma. I could go to the coffee shop, but what the hell am I going to wear? I could go out dancing, but what the hell am I going to wear? I could go to the fancy evening event, but what the hell am I going to wear?
It’s not a matter of having choices and discarding them as not good enough. It’s a matter of just not having any choices at all.
The Morrissey Dilemma means accepting invitations based on what’s available in a carefully hoarded closet full of things that almost work, things that don’t work at all, and a few golden objects - if you’re lucky - that are perfect but may not be appropriate.
The Morrissey Dilemma means that I’ve been putting off going jeans shopping for three months because I don’t have time to deal with not finding any options at all. The Morrissey Dilemma means I always pack my clothes in my carry on because if I lose my luggage, I’m left with nothing but the clothes on my back.
The Morrissey Dilemma means compromising between self-expression and just putting something on because it’s what you’ve got.
I would go out tonight, but I haven’t got a stitch to wear.
This is why I haunt etsy looking at clothes even when I have no intention of buying anything just yet - I need a stockpile of resources when it’s time to buy. This is why I haunt Ross looking at dresses that are not seasonally appropriate (in as much as Florida has seasons). This is why being able to sew is a lifeline.
This is all really hard and I know it gets people down. It’s such a fundamental thing - it’s getting dressed. And while I think the new Beth Ditto line and the new stuff from Faith 21 is great and all that? It doesn’t do anything for me .
That isn’t a stylistic complaint. It’s a practical one. None of that stuff comes in my size. Even Target’s new line (which is not available in any of the local stores I have visited in an effort to at least look at it) stops at a 24.
The options are looking kind of grim, y’all. But I’m not staying in. And I hope you won’t either. We can go out tonight and we’ll figure out something to damn well wear. The alternative is just balls and we deserve better than that.
Whether it’s etsy or DIY or vintage, or some option that we don’t know about yet, we’re going to figure this out. No more staying in.
There’s the Bacardi ad. There’s Dance Your Ass Off (which would be awesome if it were just fat chicks dancing but is instead incredibly fit-looking women dancing to the deathlose weight).
But what finally got me today, what finally cut through me being mopey for no good reason, was this snippet that was linked to on the Fatshionista Twitter feed.
The idea that fat women would DARE to feel good about their bodies to the extent that they’d wear fitted clothing…. *GASP* *SHOCK* *THE HORROR*
And then I read the comments. The usual concern trolling, of course, popped right up. And then this: “Fats shouldn’t be pretty.”
That’s when I laughed.
Because, ooooooooooooooooh. It might be cloaked in the guise of “I’m just concerned about their health” but what it really boils down to is that the existence of fat women who look good seriously screws with people’s comfortable paradigms of rigid boxes and categories of who is okay to hate.
It’d be possible to draw parallels between that sort of behavior and lots of other oppressive, hate-filled behavior but I think it’s obvious enough - this is the sort of person who cannot handle anything they perceive as a threat to their own constructed identity.
That’s totally a bit of arm-chair psychology right there. But I think just a bit of critical analysis is useful here. We can even just look at the first two words and know rather a lot. Come on, deconstruction is not really our enemy. *grin*
Fats - we use that term but I don’t get the sense from the context that it’s quite the affection collective noun that we’ve turned it into. No, this is meant to be a negative usage.
Shouldn’t - Should and could are interesting words. I used to have an English teacher, when I was in grade school, who would correct students who asked if they COULD go to the bathroom with “Of course you CAN - the question is, are you allowed?” COULD and COULDN’T indicate ability. SHOULD and SHOULDN’T indicate responsible, one might even go so far as to say moral, courses of actions. It isn’t that fat people lack the ability to be pretty, it’s that they should not as a moral course of action.
I mean, if fat people were to run around feeling good and looking confident, ordinary people might get confused and find them attractive and treat them like actual humans who are autonomous beings! And, well, that would lead to dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria.
Maybe this is the real fear that rests below so much fat hate (and so much hatred of anyone who is “different” - whether it be people of color or transpeople or gay people or people who like show tunes or whatever) - the fear that they might have to question what they thought they knew about themselves, might have to feel their way through unfamiliar territory to be their actual selves instead of relying on media and pop culture to define what is acceptable.
Bah. Screw that.
Fats should be whatever the hell they want to be. They should be pretty or they should reject the very concept - either way, they should know that they don’t owe anyone anything when it comes to aesthetics.
Fats should dress however the hell they want. They should have the brio to wear fitted clothes or trapeze dresses or skinny jeans or phat pants or anything that expresses what they want to express.
Fats should make their own rules. Because fats? Can do anything they damn well want.
Okay, this is too small for me but I feel like someone really needs to buy it.
How cute is that?
Etsy is surprisingly awesome when it comes to clothing the fatties. And it’s especially awesome when it comes to clothing the fatties with custom-made clothing that is not as expensive as you might expect.
Who are your favorite sellers for clothes? There are scads of great jewelry sellers but I’m thinking specifically of clothes this time around.
