A question was recently posed on an internet forum that I frequent "Do ugly people know they are ugly". I did not reply there, but in my head my answer was "Yes we do." No I am not saying all fat people are ugly, but I feel like I am. If I were to lose all my weight I am pretty sure I would still not be attractive.
Someone posted that the only truly ugly people they know are ugly on the inside, and that maybe it was just cases of the outside reflecting the inside. I certainly hope that is not true. While I might not be pretty, I would hate to think it was because I was also an awful person!
Showing posts with label who am I. Show all posts
Showing posts with label who am I. Show all posts
Monday, March 15, 2010
Thursday, June 26, 2008
My Entry to the Fat Experience Project
I will never be good enough for my family because I am fat. On the other hand I am learning to live with that.
It is not that anyone in my family is really a "skinny mini", it is just that they are mostly what they consider "normal" and always dieting to get closet to having the same profile as a stick. The fact that I am fat, and worse yes, not changing that fact, makes me an embarrassment.
I remember being six years old and my cousin and I got lollypop in the synagogue. My bubbie opened my cousin's for her then told me that "I really did not need that".
Their thinking coloured my own for a very long time. Growing up I thought it was okay to be a doormat- to be tormented by mean children in my school and I accepted that it was normal for other kids to hurt the fat ones. There was one boy in my class who would come up to me and grab my newly developing breasts and yell "squishi-boobs". I cried, but I told myself that I deserved it. Clearly my family thought it was okay because no matter how much I cried, no one stopped the torture.
In high school I made friends, but by then it was too late. I always tried to give 110%. I was the kid who invited everyone over. Who would organize everything. I figured if I stopped no one would have use for me anymore. I always felt like there was an invisible wall between us. I remember on our grad trip everyone standing with their arms around each other in a group hug and me standing on the side. I could not bring myself to break that wall and touch another person. They were "normal". I was fat. I always wondered what they said about me behind my back. I figured it did not matter so long as they pretended to like me when I was around.
I wore baggy clothes to try to hide as much as I could. No wait. I am lying. There were times where I tried something a little funkier. My parents told me it did not look good on someone my size and ridiculed me. They made me go change and "put on a sweater".
But I am learning.
Some of those people are still my friends and I have realized that it is not only because I organized the parties.
I have moved on with my life. I found a wonderful man who can see beyond the surface to what is in my soul. With him I am building a family and rebuilding a life with my family that has to do with who I am and not what I look like.
I look at my daughter and see the world in her face. I see undisguised love in her face when she kisses me goodnight. She knows I am fat. In her "my family" picture she made at school I am clearly twice the size of her father- but she loves me anyway.
2 years ago I went back to school. It is a school where merit and accomplishment mean a lot more than your Saturday night plans. I now have a business that I love. I have worked hard for it and it is growing nicely. At first I thought it was growing becuase people never needed to see me. You know what? I recently added a photo to my site and business did not stop short. In fact, if anything it has been better since I added the picture.
In fact I have found a bit of a niche market in designing for people like myself. Fat people who are tired of hiding in the shadows. Through their strength mine has continued to grow as well. I have moved from dark and drab to bright and vibrant in more areas than my wardrobe.
The invisible walls are crumbling and I am starting to walk away from the ruins. I can't get enough hugs from my husband or my daughter. I can walk arm and arm with a friend and not worry that everyone is staring at us. Ok, well, sometimes I do still worry, but I walk arm and arm and tell myself it is okay and I am not doing anything wrong.
It has taken a long, long time, but I am starting to learn that I am not the sum of the numbers on a scale. I deserve to be happy. To have friends, and a loving family, and nice clothes. I deserve to have dreams and to have them come true just like everyone else.
And those who are not going to be supportive can go to hell. I am sure there will be lots of "normal" people there to greet them.
It is not that anyone in my family is really a "skinny mini", it is just that they are mostly what they consider "normal" and always dieting to get closet to having the same profile as a stick. The fact that I am fat, and worse yes, not changing that fact, makes me an embarrassment.
I remember being six years old and my cousin and I got lollypop in the synagogue. My bubbie opened my cousin's for her then told me that "I really did not need that".
Their thinking coloured my own for a very long time. Growing up I thought it was okay to be a doormat- to be tormented by mean children in my school and I accepted that it was normal for other kids to hurt the fat ones. There was one boy in my class who would come up to me and grab my newly developing breasts and yell "squishi-boobs". I cried, but I told myself that I deserved it. Clearly my family thought it was okay because no matter how much I cried, no one stopped the torture.
In high school I made friends, but by then it was too late. I always tried to give 110%. I was the kid who invited everyone over. Who would organize everything. I figured if I stopped no one would have use for me anymore. I always felt like there was an invisible wall between us. I remember on our grad trip everyone standing with their arms around each other in a group hug and me standing on the side. I could not bring myself to break that wall and touch another person. They were "normal". I was fat. I always wondered what they said about me behind my back. I figured it did not matter so long as they pretended to like me when I was around.
I wore baggy clothes to try to hide as much as I could. No wait. I am lying. There were times where I tried something a little funkier. My parents told me it did not look good on someone my size and ridiculed me. They made me go change and "put on a sweater".
But I am learning.
Some of those people are still my friends and I have realized that it is not only because I organized the parties.
I have moved on with my life. I found a wonderful man who can see beyond the surface to what is in my soul. With him I am building a family and rebuilding a life with my family that has to do with who I am and not what I look like.
I look at my daughter and see the world in her face. I see undisguised love in her face when she kisses me goodnight. She knows I am fat. In her "my family" picture she made at school I am clearly twice the size of her father- but she loves me anyway.
2 years ago I went back to school. It is a school where merit and accomplishment mean a lot more than your Saturday night plans. I now have a business that I love. I have worked hard for it and it is growing nicely. At first I thought it was growing becuase people never needed to see me. You know what? I recently added a photo to my site and business did not stop short. In fact, if anything it has been better since I added the picture.
In fact I have found a bit of a niche market in designing for people like myself. Fat people who are tired of hiding in the shadows. Through their strength mine has continued to grow as well. I have moved from dark and drab to bright and vibrant in more areas than my wardrobe.
The invisible walls are crumbling and I am starting to walk away from the ruins. I can't get enough hugs from my husband or my daughter. I can walk arm and arm with a friend and not worry that everyone is staring at us. Ok, well, sometimes I do still worry, but I walk arm and arm and tell myself it is okay and I am not doing anything wrong.
It has taken a long, long time, but I am starting to learn that I am not the sum of the numbers on a scale. I deserve to be happy. To have friends, and a loving family, and nice clothes. I deserve to have dreams and to have them come true just like everyone else.
And those who are not going to be supportive can go to hell. I am sure there will be lots of "normal" people there to greet them.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
hats on for me
Ok, so although I have never actually gone in to it on this blog, I have mentioned a few times that I always wear a hat of scarf or something on my head. So someone finally called me on it. Why do I do it?
Have you ever seen Fiddler on the Roof? "We Jews have been kicked out of many, many places. Forced to leave with not'ing but the clothes on our backs. Maybe that's why we always wear our hats!" Ok, so thats not really the real reason, but it is a good a jumping point as any.
I am a Modern Orthodox Jew. This is a huge part of who I am and does effect a lot of what I wear and what I do. Through various biblical reference we learn that a married woman should cover her hair. When and how much are questions that people more learned than I have been struggling with for a very long time, but the base fact, that according to traditional Judaism married women wear something on their heads is not really arguable.
From a modesty point of view it is something that becomes private. One of the parts of us that are designated for our husbands. Just as we teach children that "what is under a bathing suit is yours and yours alone, so to does our hair take on this status when we get married. (Why our hair and not, say, our nose or our pinky? I have no idea.) In essence, we cover our hair as a sign both to ourselves and those around us that we are married, and therefore unavailable. In the religious world it is as common a sign of being married as a wedding ring is to the rest of society (Although thankfully for jewelers like myself we also have wedding rings!)
There are a number of ideas of how this should happen. The more traditional streams of Judaism say that it all must be covered all of the time and often use wigs, snoods, scarves etc, that will cover every last strand of hair at all times. Many even sleep in thair coverings of choice. Less traditional streams believe that you should wear a hat or other headcovering for religious rituals (prayer, ceremonies, etc. Along the ideas of wearing a hat connotes respect).
There are also those who have chosen to leave this idea behind all together.
And then are those like me who fall somewhere in the middle. I am a firm believer that there is a God and he did give us the Torah (Bible), but I believe that over the last 2 thousand years it has been interpreted and reinterpreted by human beings. I try to learn what I can and make my own way in this world according to the precept set down in the Torah in harmony with a modern lifestyle and rational thought.
I used to cover it all with a wig or whatever all of the time, but as I figured out more and more who I was, I realized that doing so was not exactly who I wanted to be. I now cover some of my hair most of the time.
I wear something on my head whenever I leave the house, and most of the time when we have men at our place (family, often close friends from before I was married, etc. not included). Most of the time it is a beret, baseball cap, bandana, or scarf. I do still occasionally wear wigs where a hat would look funny our out of place (formal affairs, etc.), but even then I try to avoid it as it makes me feel hypocritical as it is not something I generally do.
(There is a 2nd type of headcoverings in Judaism. A Kippa (Yarmulka) is traditionally worn by men only, but is now being taken up amongst less traditional streams for both genders during prayer or ceremony. It is now being seen more and more in the form of headbands and baseball caps for those who believe that a headcover is a reminder that God is above us. But as I am not associated directly with any of those groups I am going to leave it aside for now).
Ok, now if anyone has any questions on how I reconcile traditional religion with modernity and feminism feel free to ask and I will try to take on any questions posed.
Have you ever seen Fiddler on the Roof? "We Jews have been kicked out of many, many places. Forced to leave with not'ing but the clothes on our backs. Maybe that's why we always wear our hats!" Ok, so thats not really the real reason, but it is a good a jumping point as any.
I am a Modern Orthodox Jew. This is a huge part of who I am and does effect a lot of what I wear and what I do. Through various biblical reference we learn that a married woman should cover her hair. When and how much are questions that people more learned than I have been struggling with for a very long time, but the base fact, that according to traditional Judaism married women wear something on their heads is not really arguable.
From a modesty point of view it is something that becomes private. One of the parts of us that are designated for our husbands. Just as we teach children that "what is under a bathing suit is yours and yours alone, so to does our hair take on this status when we get married. (Why our hair and not, say, our nose or our pinky? I have no idea.) In essence, we cover our hair as a sign both to ourselves and those around us that we are married, and therefore unavailable. In the religious world it is as common a sign of being married as a wedding ring is to the rest of society (Although thankfully for jewelers like myself we also have wedding rings!)
There are a number of ideas of how this should happen. The more traditional streams of Judaism say that it all must be covered all of the time and often use wigs, snoods, scarves etc, that will cover every last strand of hair at all times. Many even sleep in thair coverings of choice. Less traditional streams believe that you should wear a hat or other headcovering for religious rituals (prayer, ceremonies, etc. Along the ideas of wearing a hat connotes respect).
There are also those who have chosen to leave this idea behind all together.
And then are those like me who fall somewhere in the middle. I am a firm believer that there is a God and he did give us the Torah (Bible), but I believe that over the last 2 thousand years it has been interpreted and reinterpreted by human beings. I try to learn what I can and make my own way in this world according to the precept set down in the Torah in harmony with a modern lifestyle and rational thought.
I used to cover it all with a wig or whatever all of the time, but as I figured out more and more who I was, I realized that doing so was not exactly who I wanted to be. I now cover some of my hair most of the time.
I wear something on my head whenever I leave the house, and most of the time when we have men at our place (family, often close friends from before I was married, etc. not included). Most of the time it is a beret, baseball cap, bandana, or scarf. I do still occasionally wear wigs where a hat would look funny our out of place (formal affairs, etc.), but even then I try to avoid it as it makes me feel hypocritical as it is not something I generally do.
(There is a 2nd type of headcoverings in Judaism. A Kippa (Yarmulka) is traditionally worn by men only, but is now being taken up amongst less traditional streams for both genders during prayer or ceremony. It is now being seen more and more in the form of headbands and baseball caps for those who believe that a headcover is a reminder that God is above us. But as I am not associated directly with any of those groups I am going to leave it aside for now).
Ok, now if anyone has any questions on how I reconcile traditional religion with modernity and feminism feel free to ask and I will try to take on any questions posed.
Friday, June 20, 2008
comiing from my closet... (no, not like that)
So, it has been about 2 years now since I looked in my closet and realized it was darker than the biblical plague of darkness in there. It seemed that pretty much every piece of clothing I owwned was either black, navy or grey, with a couple of white shirts here and there to wear under other things.
It was depressing.
I realized that I was dressing mostly so that I would just fade into the darkness and no one would notice me. On the other hand, as my esteem was in the toilet and my head was only 2 inches above ground level most of the time, that seemed to fit.
As I slowly broke ground with my therapist, I realized that I had no reason to be hiding behind my clothes. Ok, I am fat. Ok, I am not going to win any modeling contests anytime soon, but I am a good person. I am a nice person. I am not some hideous monster who should never show her face in public... and certainly never look to have anyone notice her at all. I am good enough, I am smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!
Yes ladies and gentlemen. I am a person who deserves to enjoy my life just as much as the next person. Maybe more than some.
But then came the problem. I had always been told that "people my size" should wear baggy clothing. Try to cover our "flaws". Dark colours were more "slimming". Patterns were too "overwhelming" when used in such large pieces. I realized that I only knew how to dress according to how others saw me. I did not know the first thing about dressing myself the way I wanted to be seen.
I had always been into the whole artsy-romantic-historical look. Did people actually wear stuff like that?
Funnily enough, I found they did. Yes, even fat people. And these were people who wanted to be noticed.
I started by not going to far outside my comfort zone. I had always worn broom stick skirts in the summer. Comfy, roomy, available in black- what more could I have asked for. So I bought one in bright royal blue with a slightly darker embroidered trim at the bottom. Wore it a few times, got used to wearing it with a pale blue shirt! (Pale blue is a colour that had never even entered my home before, let alone my closet!) Before I knew it, I had bought an vibrant haloween orange broomstick skirt with orange sequins and hunter green embroidered trim! I bought a headscarf to match, added a white shirt, and had my first "a whole new me" ensemble.
And I love it and I wear it all summer long.
Because I am an Orthodox Jew pants, shorts, sleeveless, backless etc. is just not an option for me. Totally not up for discussion. In some ways this makes life easier... no need to fight the inner "should I should my upper arms even though I hate the way they continue to wave hello after the rest of my arm has stopped" battle. On the other hand, it does give me a little less to work with as finding skirts that are nice, funky, washable, weather appropriate, and available in plus sizes is a bit of a tall order. Add to that the fact that I always wear a hat or head scarf of some sort (I do own a couple of wigs but hate wearing them so they get a lot of shelf time).
Over time I have managed to build up a set of "funner" clothing. I have a skirts in violet with beads and sequins, brown with velvet, a red white and blue paisley print and even in tie dye! I have an awesome ruffled poet shirt with a ribbon corset going down the front, some nice t shirts of varying sleave length in a number of different colours, and some really funky sweaters that I love for in the winter. I even own two turtlenecks... something I was told was an absolute "no-no".
Recently I even went so far as to start buying dresses. I picked up this amazing black jumper that has a front corset tied with a hot pink ribbon that I wear with a hot pink shirt. I have a wrap dress (ok, so that is black, but it has burgandy trim). I even looked at a dress with this bold, mod square pattern on it in black white and red (I decided though that I just could nto afford it right then so I had to walk away.
Even my footwear has gotten a little more exciting thanks to my sister. No more loafers 7 days a week. Now I have heels, ballet flats, boots, even a pair of fairly strappy sandals.
And today I was chatting with someone about a shirt I saw that I want really, really badly. She commented that she loved it, but would never have the courage to wear it. I realized that a year ago neither would I.
I also realized that overhauling my wardrobe is a big part of what has been happening to my overall self esteem. Sure there are still some bad days, but on the whole I am moving out of the "I am a terrible person because I am fat and should love a life of shame" to "I am a good person and that is independent of how I look and I deserve to live my life in the sun like everyone else".
I am not entirely sure if I am pulling my wardrobe or if it is pulling me, but either way it seems to be working for us both.
It was depressing.
I realized that I was dressing mostly so that I would just fade into the darkness and no one would notice me. On the other hand, as my esteem was in the toilet and my head was only 2 inches above ground level most of the time, that seemed to fit.
As I slowly broke ground with my therapist, I realized that I had no reason to be hiding behind my clothes. Ok, I am fat. Ok, I am not going to win any modeling contests anytime soon, but I am a good person. I am a nice person. I am not some hideous monster who should never show her face in public... and certainly never look to have anyone notice her at all. I am good enough, I am smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!
Yes ladies and gentlemen. I am a person who deserves to enjoy my life just as much as the next person. Maybe more than some.
But then came the problem. I had always been told that "people my size" should wear baggy clothing. Try to cover our "flaws". Dark colours were more "slimming". Patterns were too "overwhelming" when used in such large pieces. I realized that I only knew how to dress according to how others saw me. I did not know the first thing about dressing myself the way I wanted to be seen.
I had always been into the whole artsy-romantic-historical look. Did people actually wear stuff like that?
Funnily enough, I found they did. Yes, even fat people. And these were people who wanted to be noticed.
I started by not going to far outside my comfort zone. I had always worn broom stick skirts in the summer. Comfy, roomy, available in black- what more could I have asked for. So I bought one in bright royal blue with a slightly darker embroidered trim at the bottom. Wore it a few times, got used to wearing it with a pale blue shirt! (Pale blue is a colour that had never even entered my home before, let alone my closet!) Before I knew it, I had bought an vibrant haloween orange broomstick skirt with orange sequins and hunter green embroidered trim! I bought a headscarf to match, added a white shirt, and had my first "a whole new me" ensemble.
And I love it and I wear it all summer long.
Because I am an Orthodox Jew pants, shorts, sleeveless, backless etc. is just not an option for me. Totally not up for discussion. In some ways this makes life easier... no need to fight the inner "should I should my upper arms even though I hate the way they continue to wave hello after the rest of my arm has stopped" battle. On the other hand, it does give me a little less to work with as finding skirts that are nice, funky, washable, weather appropriate, and available in plus sizes is a bit of a tall order. Add to that the fact that I always wear a hat or head scarf of some sort (I do own a couple of wigs but hate wearing them so they get a lot of shelf time).
Over time I have managed to build up a set of "funner" clothing. I have a skirts in violet with beads and sequins, brown with velvet, a red white and blue paisley print and even in tie dye! I have an awesome ruffled poet shirt with a ribbon corset going down the front, some nice t shirts of varying sleave length in a number of different colours, and some really funky sweaters that I love for in the winter. I even own two turtlenecks... something I was told was an absolute "no-no".
Recently I even went so far as to start buying dresses. I picked up this amazing black jumper that has a front corset tied with a hot pink ribbon that I wear with a hot pink shirt. I have a wrap dress (ok, so that is black, but it has burgandy trim). I even looked at a dress with this bold, mod square pattern on it in black white and red (I decided though that I just could nto afford it right then so I had to walk away.
Even my footwear has gotten a little more exciting thanks to my sister. No more loafers 7 days a week. Now I have heels, ballet flats, boots, even a pair of fairly strappy sandals.
And today I was chatting with someone about a shirt I saw that I want really, really badly. She commented that she loved it, but would never have the courage to wear it. I realized that a year ago neither would I.
I also realized that overhauling my wardrobe is a big part of what has been happening to my overall self esteem. Sure there are still some bad days, but on the whole I am moving out of the "I am a terrible person because I am fat and should love a life of shame" to "I am a good person and that is independent of how I look and I deserve to live my life in the sun like everyone else".
I am not entirely sure if I am pulling my wardrobe or if it is pulling me, but either way it seems to be working for us both.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Breakthrough Moment
So yesterday I had a really busy day and it was 4 o'clock before I realized that I had not eaten all day and I was starving. I was at a subway station and facing 45 minutes on the subway before a 15 minute walk home.
I stopped at the Gateway shop at Warden station and bought, horror of horrors, an orange juice and a bag of potato chips (hey, when you keep strictly kosher and can not eat dairy there are not a whole lot of healthy subway station options).
Being a fat girl and not wanting anyone to decide to randomly tell me how awful I was for eating, especially junk food, in public I shoved the stuff into my purse.
I got on the subway (ok, Warden Station has to be the only place in the city where you need to go UP 2 flights of steps to get to the subway) and tried to open things as quietly as possible so no one would notice. Eating out of my purse.
I kept looking around as if waiting to see who would "catch" me.
Want to know something? No one was looking at me at all! No one cared what the hell anyone else was doing. We were all caught up in staring out into space and trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
Believe it or not I am not the centre of everyones world. I know! Who would have thunk it? No one, and I mean NO ONE was looking at me and thinking how awful I was. In fact no one was looking at me at all!
What a rush.
So if I combine this with the shmuck who insulted me at the Eaton's Centre a few months ago, we learn that apparently only lonely losers with nothing better to do go around staring at strangers and trying to figure out how to insult them.
I stopped at the Gateway shop at Warden station and bought, horror of horrors, an orange juice and a bag of potato chips (hey, when you keep strictly kosher and can not eat dairy there are not a whole lot of healthy subway station options).
Being a fat girl and not wanting anyone to decide to randomly tell me how awful I was for eating, especially junk food, in public I shoved the stuff into my purse.
I got on the subway (ok, Warden Station has to be the only place in the city where you need to go UP 2 flights of steps to get to the subway) and tried to open things as quietly as possible so no one would notice. Eating out of my purse.
I kept looking around as if waiting to see who would "catch" me.
Want to know something? No one was looking at me at all! No one cared what the hell anyone else was doing. We were all caught up in staring out into space and trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
Believe it or not I am not the centre of everyones world. I know! Who would have thunk it? No one, and I mean NO ONE was looking at me and thinking how awful I was. In fact no one was looking at me at all!
What a rush.
So if I combine this with the shmuck who insulted me at the Eaton's Centre a few months ago, we learn that apparently only lonely losers with nothing better to do go around staring at strangers and trying to figure out how to insult them.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Thank God for my health (and health are provider)
I want to take one sec here to thank the lord for health care providers who see beyond the fat and through to the real problem. I came home from our vacation (Capital S) SICK.
My joints were killing me, especially my hips, kneed and ankles. I could barely breathe and when I tried to suck in air it felt like my ribs were fighting by cramping and trying to suffocate me. When I coughed (which I did often as this lovely little nuisance also came with "cold-like symptoms") my head felt like it was being split in two across my forehead and behind my eyes with a hot vice.
My family doctor, who I loved, recently quit her practice, and even though she was part of a team with walk in accepted, now none of the team will see any of her patience... Left me stranded with no notice, and finding a new doctor here right now is next to impossible. Fortunately I had an in with someone who is great for day to day, but as he is the spouse of a friend I am not sure how comfortable I would be with anything big. Don't for one minute though think I am concerned about any impropriety or breech of confidentiality- merely awkwardness after. I would 100000% recommend him to anyone else, and do know some of my other friends use him as well.
I fell asleep watching the hockey game at a friend's house on the floor and when I woke up I was tempted to rip off my own head. Ok, so I called him New Years eve, at home. Yes, I was that miserable.
Not a single "loose weight and you will feel better" in site. I gave him 2 symptoms, he asked me about all the rest of them (as he hit the nail on the head on all of them I am pretty sure he was right). He told me what to do, how do deal with it, and what to look out for. The whole exchange took maybe 10 minutes.
All I can say is that I was thrilled not to have to worry about obnoxious comments when I felt like death. It is such a pleasure to have found a doctor that actually deals with the problem you bring to him rather than once the choose to take issue with that are not quite as pressing.
My joints were killing me, especially my hips, kneed and ankles. I could barely breathe and when I tried to suck in air it felt like my ribs were fighting by cramping and trying to suffocate me. When I coughed (which I did often as this lovely little nuisance also came with "cold-like symptoms") my head felt like it was being split in two across my forehead and behind my eyes with a hot vice.
My family doctor, who I loved, recently quit her practice, and even though she was part of a team with walk in accepted, now none of the team will see any of her patience... Left me stranded with no notice, and finding a new doctor here right now is next to impossible. Fortunately I had an in with someone who is great for day to day, but as he is the spouse of a friend I am not sure how comfortable I would be with anything big. Don't for one minute though think I am concerned about any impropriety or breech of confidentiality- merely awkwardness after. I would 100000% recommend him to anyone else, and do know some of my other friends use him as well.
I fell asleep watching the hockey game at a friend's house on the floor and when I woke up I was tempted to rip off my own head. Ok, so I called him New Years eve, at home. Yes, I was that miserable.
Not a single "loose weight and you will feel better" in site. I gave him 2 symptoms, he asked me about all the rest of them (as he hit the nail on the head on all of them I am pretty sure he was right). He told me what to do, how do deal with it, and what to look out for. The whole exchange took maybe 10 minutes.
All I can say is that I was thrilled not to have to worry about obnoxious comments when I felt like death. It is such a pleasure to have found a doctor that actually deals with the problem you bring to him rather than once the choose to take issue with that are not quite as pressing.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Know for whom the dress is donned.
So far as I can see it, there are essentially two ways to choose your wardrobe. There is dressing for others and there is dressing for yourself.
Dressing for others includes such looks as the enormous flowered tent with a giant bow in the front. It means dressing to fit what people see as a fat woman image. It means conforming to what "fashion" tells us we should wear rather than what we like.
If you look at what fat women are generally being given to wear it says one thing. Please hide my body! It is designed to shame and to cloak our "dirty" and not so little, secret. Society says "Fat is Bad" therefore fat needs to disappear. It does not matter if we look like king size pillows. As long as not a single role is visible the rest of the world can pretend that we are just big skinny people. It is the beginning of a slippery slope that pushes "Fat Girls" into the margins of society.
By minimizing who and what we are it makes it that much easier to minimize what we do and what we can accomplish. It is only a small step from "Fat Girls should not wear stripes" to "Fat girls should not wear flight attendant uniforms" to "Fat girls should not be allowed to fly".
Then there is dressing for yourself. How many of us truly love mumus for anything other than, um, ok, let's face it, I can not really think of any good uses for mumus. (Yes, yes, I have heard the arguments that they are comfortable, easy, great for sleeping in, etc. but there are a number of other options out there that can fill those roles and look a lot better doing it!)
Dressing for yourself is making your wardrobe a part of who you are and giving off a first impression that tells people you want to be recognized for who you are. It tells the world "I am not hiding behind my clothes, I am using my clothes to make a statement about who I am. I am not going to let fashion dictate that I should disappear.
So wear what makes you feel good and think of it as a statement for both Fat Activism and your own psyche.
Dressing for others includes such looks as the enormous flowered tent with a giant bow in the front. It means dressing to fit what people see as a fat woman image. It means conforming to what "fashion" tells us we should wear rather than what we like.
If you look at what fat women are generally being given to wear it says one thing. Please hide my body! It is designed to shame and to cloak our "dirty" and not so little, secret. Society says "Fat is Bad" therefore fat needs to disappear. It does not matter if we look like king size pillows. As long as not a single role is visible the rest of the world can pretend that we are just big skinny people. It is the beginning of a slippery slope that pushes "Fat Girls" into the margins of society.
By minimizing who and what we are it makes it that much easier to minimize what we do and what we can accomplish. It is only a small step from "Fat Girls should not wear stripes" to "Fat girls should not wear flight attendant uniforms" to "Fat girls should not be allowed to fly".
Then there is dressing for yourself. How many of us truly love mumus for anything other than, um, ok, let's face it, I can not really think of any good uses for mumus. (Yes, yes, I have heard the arguments that they are comfortable, easy, great for sleeping in, etc. but there are a number of other options out there that can fill those roles and look a lot better doing it!)
Dressing for yourself is making your wardrobe a part of who you are and giving off a first impression that tells people you want to be recognized for who you are. It tells the world "I am not hiding behind my clothes, I am using my clothes to make a statement about who I am. I am not going to let fashion dictate that I should disappear.
So wear what makes you feel good and think of it as a statement for both Fat Activism and your own psyche.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Today I am wearing horizontal stripes.
Yes ladies. Today I am wearing black ribbed shirt with lots and lots of grey and ivory lines running across the front of it. Not only is it ribbed and striped, but it is also slightly chunky. I saw this shirt in a store and went, "No way. I don't wear horizontal stripes". But the price was really , really good, and I needed some new tops pretty badly.
So, against my better judgment (and pretty sure that I would get it home and stick it in a drawer never to see the light of day again) I bought the thing. I still can't tell you why, but I did. It sat in my drawer breaking every single rule I have been taught to live by. No stripes. Certainly no bold stripes. Absolutely no bold stripes across the chest. Never, ever, under any circumstances, let those stripes continue out onto the arms.
I wore it today (I am totally and completely out of clean shirts as I have been working like a lunatic the last few days and laundry has sort of taken a backseat to, well, pretty much everything).
I love this shirt! It looks fantastic. Whatever it is about this striped/ribbed combo, it has the stripes lying really nicely. I feel like a total rebel for breaking all the "rules", but that in itself feels sort of neat.
So, moral of my story. Toss the rules in the drawer never to see the light of day, and try on anything that catches your eye because you never know how it will look.
incidentally, as this is a Toronto based blog, I should mention that the shirt came from Zellers and I got it on sale for $15 :)
So, against my better judgment (and pretty sure that I would get it home and stick it in a drawer never to see the light of day again) I bought the thing. I still can't tell you why, but I did. It sat in my drawer breaking every single rule I have been taught to live by. No stripes. Certainly no bold stripes. Absolutely no bold stripes across the chest. Never, ever, under any circumstances, let those stripes continue out onto the arms.
I wore it today (I am totally and completely out of clean shirts as I have been working like a lunatic the last few days and laundry has sort of taken a backseat to, well, pretty much everything).
I love this shirt! It looks fantastic. Whatever it is about this striped/ribbed combo, it has the stripes lying really nicely. I feel like a total rebel for breaking all the "rules", but that in itself feels sort of neat.
So, moral of my story. Toss the rules in the drawer never to see the light of day, and try on anything that catches your eye because you never know how it will look.
incidentally, as this is a Toronto based blog, I should mention that the shirt came from Zellers and I got it on sale for $15 :)
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Gee thanks
I was down at the Eatons Centre this afternoon. I was finally done with the errands I had to do while I was downtown. I bought a water and sat down on a bench to get my stuff sorted out and to get out a bus token. There was another guy sitting on the bench, but it was one of those huge, backless benches and so space was not an issue and we were not facing each other.
After sitting for a minute and getting myself in order and together, I realzie that through a pause in the music on my ipod I hear this really smooth voice (think midnight shift dj on a pillow talk radio show or something".
"Your HUUUUUGE. You are SOOOOOO FAT. Oh my gosh, you are just HUUUUUUUUUUGE."
Now, I gotta tell you, on most days I would have been humiliated and totally burst in to tears, but I happen to know I look good today. I am wearing a stylish outfit and my jewelery is to die for. For get just looking good for me, something about what I am seeing in mirrored elevator doors is saying "Damn you look good!".
So for whatever reason I looked right at him and replied.
"Your SUUUUUUUUUUUCH and IDIOT. You have ZEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERO social grace. Oh my gosh I'll bet that compensating for a TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINY penis by insulting random strangers must be a HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE strain."
Ok, so I think I came out the winner in this story, but it still begs the question. Why in the world would someoen think that sort of behavious is in any way appropriate? It was not a child who has not yet learned to know better. It did not look like it was someone who was not in proper control of their faculties (although clearly they had lost the reins to their brain and mouth). I have no way of really knowing, but I suspect that people would not up to somone with, say, a missing finger and say "whoah, your hand is soooooooooooo wierd". So what gives? Why is it okay to insult the way I look because for whatever reason it does not jive with your personal taste? You don't like the way I look? DON'T LOOK AT ME!!! Buddy, I know I am sort of hard to look around, but I am sure if you work hard at it you can mange it...
I am still dwelling on it (even though I know I shouldn't be and that damn! I look good today) but all in all I suspect my comeback was a bit to much of a shock for his little dingaling. He did stop being insulting and just sat there open-mouthed while I finished getting my bags and token in order calmly and got up and walked away.
After sitting for a minute and getting myself in order and together, I realzie that through a pause in the music on my ipod I hear this really smooth voice (think midnight shift dj on a pillow talk radio show or something".
"Your HUUUUUGE. You are SOOOOOO FAT. Oh my gosh, you are just HUUUUUUUUUUGE."
Now, I gotta tell you, on most days I would have been humiliated and totally burst in to tears, but I happen to know I look good today. I am wearing a stylish outfit and my jewelery is to die for. For get just looking good for me, something about what I am seeing in mirrored elevator doors is saying "Damn you look good!".
So for whatever reason I looked right at him and replied.
"Your SUUUUUUUUUUUCH and IDIOT. You have ZEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERO social grace. Oh my gosh I'll bet that compensating for a TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINY penis by insulting random strangers must be a HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE strain."
Ok, so I think I came out the winner in this story, but it still begs the question. Why in the world would someoen think that sort of behavious is in any way appropriate? It was not a child who has not yet learned to know better. It did not look like it was someone who was not in proper control of their faculties (although clearly they had lost the reins to their brain and mouth). I have no way of really knowing, but I suspect that people would not up to somone with, say, a missing finger and say "whoah, your hand is soooooooooooo wierd". So what gives? Why is it okay to insult the way I look because for whatever reason it does not jive with your personal taste? You don't like the way I look? DON'T LOOK AT ME!!! Buddy, I know I am sort of hard to look around, but I am sure if you work hard at it you can mange it...
I am still dwelling on it (even though I know I shouldn't be and that damn! I look good today) but all in all I suspect my comeback was a bit to much of a shock for his little dingaling. He did stop being insulting and just sat there open-mouthed while I finished getting my bags and token in order calmly and got up and walked away.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Ok, now for a real hello.
Hi there,
Welcome to what will hopefully become a new home for those of us outside the standard "beauty" mold. I know there are a number of blogs that never really took off for plus size women in the GTA, but the plan is for this one to be different! I hope this will become a one stop shop for everything from where to shop for beautiful clothes and be treated to wonderful sales staff, to where to go in case of size discrimination and how to make our needs and wants heard amongst the voices of those who silence us.
Ok, well that is enough about the why's and what's, now how about the Who?
I am a daughter, a sister a wife and a mother. I am a teacher, a jeweler, an event planner and a secretary. I am now overly short and not overly tall. I have brown hair and green eyes. I like black and purple and blue. I also like pink. I do not like yellow. I am a university graduate. I am friendly and social. I love to wear funky clothes and jewelery, and if I can not find what I want I will make it myself. I like to travel. I have sisters and brothers and aunts and uncles and cousins. Lots of them. I am also fat.
F-A-T.
Wow, I never really use that word. Chubby, fluffy, round, large, big, curvy... those are all really just other words for fat. So why does that single word carry such negative connotations?
Clearly I am not trying to hide who I am. You just look at me and you know. People do not meet me and think I am a tiny tinkerbell until I use the word and then go "OH MY GOSH!!! She is HUGE and I never would have noticed if she hadn't said anything!"
One of the thing I hope to explore in this blog is why that word scares so many people. Why is it that word freaks out both fat and thin people alike?
Well I guess I am sort of going to leave you hanging on that one because I have absolutely no idea. I guess you will just have to come back and read more :)
Welcome to what will hopefully become a new home for those of us outside the standard "beauty" mold. I know there are a number of blogs that never really took off for plus size women in the GTA, but the plan is for this one to be different! I hope this will become a one stop shop for everything from where to shop for beautiful clothes and be treated to wonderful sales staff, to where to go in case of size discrimination and how to make our needs and wants heard amongst the voices of those who silence us.
Ok, well that is enough about the why's and what's, now how about the Who?
I am a daughter, a sister a wife and a mother. I am a teacher, a jeweler, an event planner and a secretary. I am now overly short and not overly tall. I have brown hair and green eyes. I like black and purple and blue. I also like pink. I do not like yellow. I am a university graduate. I am friendly and social. I love to wear funky clothes and jewelery, and if I can not find what I want I will make it myself. I like to travel. I have sisters and brothers and aunts and uncles and cousins. Lots of them. I am also fat.
F-A-T.
Wow, I never really use that word. Chubby, fluffy, round, large, big, curvy... those are all really just other words for fat. So why does that single word carry such negative connotations?
Clearly I am not trying to hide who I am. You just look at me and you know. People do not meet me and think I am a tiny tinkerbell until I use the word and then go "OH MY GOSH!!! She is HUGE and I never would have noticed if she hadn't said anything!"
One of the thing I hope to explore in this blog is why that word scares so many people. Why is it that word freaks out both fat and thin people alike?
Well I guess I am sort of going to leave you hanging on that one because I have absolutely no idea. I guess you will just have to come back and read more :)
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