HI, Part 2 & an exciting new discovery

I had this brainstorm the other day, and decided to call the airline (for my trip to HI) about finding a comfy seat on the plane. I said, "I'm a large person and was wondering if there are any seats on the plane that are more accommodating." The phone rep didn't seem to bat an eyelash at the request and said, "Sure, let me check out the seating arrangement on your plane."

Of course in the fantasy version of this scenario the rep then says, "Actually, First Class is underbooked so I'll upgrade you at no extra charge." Heh.

I was so jazzed to hear him say we're reserved, both ways, on a row with just an aisle and a window seat, and that the row has a little extra leg room. Woo hoo! Then I looked up the floor plan on the carrier's website and was surprised to see that, on this particular jet, Coach rows are laid out in a 2 - 3 - 2 pattern. It detracted slightly from the "excellent score" aspect -- but seriously, it takes away like 50% of my anxiety about this trip to know I won't be squishing anyone and that I won't be squished. The other 50% of the anxiety I can deal with now that the burden ain't so heavy. It's all good. Aloha nui nui!

UPDATE: 1/24/07
I had a helluva lot more to worry about than being fat on this trip. Such as: major family drama, major family reconciliation, the flu, coughing so hard as result of the flu that I vomited, ensuing ear infections from the flu, and a freaky flight home.

But, I had the best ice cream cone in the entire freaking world in Koloa, after a hearty swim session. If you go to Hawaii you must have Lappert's ice cream, and preferably in the chocolate-dipped waffle cone. YUM!

*****

The exciting new discovery is that of Zaftique, an online plus size boutique. The line isn't perfect, but I am so thrilled to see a big range of styles offered, seemingly good construction and fit, and to see the clothes modeled on real fat people. I loves me some of the Chevron Dress in Eggplant, the Surplice Ruched Dress in Blue, but especially the Rose Crochet Dress in Black. I would wear that shit to my own wedding!

Check Zaftique out if you get a chance. (They're listed on the sidebar now.)

Countdown to Hawaii

I'll be heading over to Hawaii in January for the first time in my life, which I should be totally happy about and yet I'm having major anxiety.

First, there's the plane seat. The longest flight I've ever been on was an hour and a half, and that's only because the plane couldn't land at its scheduled 50-minute mark due to fog. For an hour and a half, I'm willing to plant my ass into a too-narrow seat and scrunch my shoulders and arms together so I don't impinge on my fellow or sister passenger. And mind you, this is in a window or aisle seat, where there's just one person to inconvenience due to my fat. The flight to HI is 5 hours on a huge jet with 11 seats across and whereas I could view this through pollyanna eyes... "that means there's the possibility of not just 2, but 4 aisle seats!"... I just don't. It's not me. I'm scared I'm gonna get seated dead center in the dreaded 5-seat mid-section. And did I mention that I get motion sick if I can't see out a window?

Next up we have the very reason we're going: my boyfriend's father. He moved to HI last summer, and the family is decending en masse to visit them. He's a retired surgeon and a senior citizen, which means he eats the equivalent of an apple for lunch and a small salmon steak for dinner and that's it. He's never said anything to me about my weight, but I'm pretty sure he's said something to Honey Bunny. When we're at the dinner table, he'll offer all the men seconds but never ask the women. I'm not about to blame my weight for the fact that he barely talks to me in general, but I'll admit I get suspicious at times.

We're sharing a large vacation home with HB's brother and his family, which is the part I AM looking forward to. HB's Bro & Family are all really sweet and, unlike my own family, understand the concept of needing some space. As in, the space I might need to take when they decide it's time to hike HI's equivalent of the Grand Canyon. You see, Bro and his son are in great shape and are avid hikers. Bro's wife and daughter aren't really athletic types but they generally go along for the ride. HB used to be an avid hiker (before he met me - eeek!) but loves the outdoors enough to suck it up.

Let me preface by saying that I never wanted to live the Bridget Jones cliche... and yet, here I am. On November 15th I said, "I'm going to start going to the gym every day until Hawaii so I'm fit enough to keep up with everyone else." Thanksgiving came and went. On November 30th I said, "Tomorrow is December 1st and I will start walking on the treadmill at the gym everyday until Hawaii." It's now December 9th and I've yet to step a toe in the gym's front door.

I am freaking out! I'm not going to be able to keep up with anyone. My body hates humidity... I'm probably going to pass out from that alone, not to mention doing any strenuous walking. Honey Bunny keeps saying not to make any pie-in-the-sky promises to myself about losing weight or getting fit before HI. I'm wondering if I'll even make it to the gym ONCE before HI.

Hawaii should be paradise, but I feel like I'm walking the plank.

Skinni-Me

Call it wishful thinking, or call it bizarre, but I have a Skinni-Me. (Get it? Mini-Me... Skinni-Me...) She's my friend Ivy's friend who used to live in San Francisco but moved away a few years ago. Once, when she did live in town, we swapped her bass guitar for my sewing machine when we were taking, respectively, bass lessons and a sewing class. That was the day I realized she was my Skinni-Me.

Not unlike myself, she's somewhat hard to get along with, has had bottle-red hair since high school, and a penchant for vintage/retro stuff. She had already painted her bedroom a lovely baby blue when I was still trying to decide which exact shade of baby blue I wanted for my room. We're both natural-born writers (lucky for her, she's used that to her immense financial and personal gain), and like dressing ourselves in a kicky unique style. Not to mention, we were born within a few days of eachother and are both the very essence of Aries.

What sets us apart is that we are polar opposites on the weight scale. She probably weighs 110 lbs max, whereas I... ok, I'm not going there but suffice to say it's quite a bit more. The weird thing is that I literally think I would look like her if I were 110 lbs. She's got a pointy ski-jump nose, rosy cheeks and green eyes. And I'm pretty sure if she gained weight, it would go to her boobs first and her face last.

Ivy got married this weekend and so I saw Skinni-Me for the first time in a few years. To tell you the truth, I kinda forgot about Skinni-Me until I saw her setting up chairs for the ceremony. I thought, "Who's that girl wearing the excellent robin's egg blue overcoat with some manner of excellent stripey dress underneath, and why does she have my exact same haircut and color??" And then it all came flooding back to me... oh my gosh, Skinni-Me!

I actually gasped when she took her coat off at the reception. That stripey dress was really cool. Sure, she gave me the "this old thing?" response when I complemented her on it, but that's typical Skinni-Me. Not only was it whimsically colorful... it was asymmetrical, and tied over one shoulder. The ties were long enough to form a pretty bow and still have a lengthy drape down the back of the dress. Except that they don't make stuff like that for fat girls, that dress could not have been any more Me.

Staring down the barrel of my Skinni-Me is different now than it was before. In the beginning, it was a severely lacking self-esteem with a dash of girl-crush attraction and several heaping spoonfuls of jealousy. She wasn't just someone who looked like a thin version of me... she was me, having taken a different and more successful path in life. She was me, fully realized.

Several years later, I still lack self esteem, especially where my body is concerned, and often kick myself for not pursuing a more fulfilling career or making time for more of my interests -- but at least I'm solidly living in my own imperfect body and mind. Moreso I'm just baffled at all the things we have in common, rather than clinging on to those similarities for dear life.

I'll probably never see Skinni-Me again, and that's ok with me. I'm going to be tragically unhip, very un-Skinni-Me, and say: You go, girl!

A Letter to Carnie Wilson

Dearest Carnie,

I remember your interview in People and seeing snippets of other interviews on various TV shows after you got your surgery. What burned a permanent hole in my memory was a portion of the interview when they asked if your husband still would have married you even if you hadn't lost the weight. Your response was something like, "Umm, yeah, I think. I mean, he loves me either way but he prefers me to be thinner. You know, for my health and all." It was sad, Carnie. All that you did during this period of time seemed so desperate. Your struggle was and is no different than pretty much any other fat girl or woman in the US. You long to be seen and loved, and if your life is deprived of that for long enough you'll do pretty much anything to get attention.

Such as... a high profile weight loss surgery that was actually broadcast live on the internet. A high profile slimming down period afterwards. A high profile wedding. A high profile pregnancy and birth. And now, a high profile struggle on Celebrity Fit Club 4 to lose some of the weight you gained back.

Seems you always have to defend yourself and your weight loss surgery. Did you really expect the panel on CFC4 not to bring it up? I never in my life thought I'd say this, but I agreed with them! Dear, you were not 400-500 lbs. and going to die if you didn't get the surgery. You were high 200's and able to lose weight without medical intervention. In fact, all the money you spent on the surgery could've hooked you up with Jackie Warner at Sky and a personal chef to cook you nice low-fat or low-carb meals. Sure, Rosie O'Donnell sided with you on The View in regards to the panel's comments but I'm pretty sure she was just licking your ass in typical Hollywood fashion. You are so lucky you didn't end up as a haiku on her blog.

Speaking of The View, let's address a little something you said about your one year old daughter that frightened the shit out of me. Something to the effect of, "Sometimes she has food all over her face and yet she's still trying to tell me she's hungry, and I think, Oh my gosh! Should I not feed her so she won't end up like me?" Do you realize this isn't healthy? Children are not yet tainted by thoughts of shit like, "I'm not really hungry anymore but I think I'll still eat." They eat until they're full - faces smeared with food or not - and then they stop. Granted, they learn by example and so you need to set a good one for her, but let the child eat what she wants for right now, for fuck's sake!

Ultimately, Carnie, I have compassion for you. Hollywood is not an easy place to reside, and you could've taken much more drastic measures than just getting a couple of surgeries. I know what it's like to want acceptance, and the desperation that can well up from that deep dark place. All I really want to say to you is, Chill the fuck out and get some therapy! You always look like you're about to burst from the seams, and I ain't talking about your body or clothes. Work on your mind instead of your body for a little while, because I'm sure it will be welcome respite. You need it.

Love,
Zaftig Girl

Jeans for sale

If there are any size 26 petite ladies out there, I'm selling a pair of Lane Bryant stretch flare jeans on Craiglist.

Click here to see the post. I'll ship to wherever, you don't have to be a Bay Area local!

**********
UPDATE 3/9/07

I still have these jeans if anyone wants them for free! In fact, I have many other pairs that haven't worked out as well, almost brand new.

*Phat Girlz*, Part 3

Just heard that Phat Girlz is coming out on DVD on 8/22/06. If you didn't get a chance to see it in the theater, I definitely recommend checking it out. There's really no other fat-themed film like it in the world. Check out my review here.

Wedding madness

I'm, as my Dad would say, a "women's libber" so I've been thinking a bit about asking Honey Bunny to marry me. Let me assure you... this has nothing at all to do with researching dress, shoe and hair possibilities and fanciful thoughts of cleverly-worded custom-designed letterpressed invitations. Ahem. Well, maybe just a teensy bit.

Well, slap me on the back and call me Judy because I had no idea there were so many options for fat girls in the wedding dress department! I seriously thought there would be like six whole styles to choose from, and they would be:

1) The 80's mutton-chop sleeve version

2) The super poofy princess version

3) The "it has to have long sleeves because I hate my arms" version

4) All above rolled into one

5) The "I can't find a wedding dress so will wear Mother of the Bride dress instead" version

- and last but not least -

6) The "I'm fat so I might as well dress like a Renaissance Faire wench" version

(I used to work at the Renaissance Faire so I'm allowed to joke about that last one.)

But no! Instead, there are beautiful and tasteful choices just like there are for the skinnier gals, and lots of vendors to choose from. Even Lane Bryant has come out with a small sampling of wedding dresses on their website. Who knew?

Slightly less shocking but still exciting is that there is now an endless array of bridesmaid dresses in sizes up to 28. You know, I was a bridesmaid five times in the 90's alone... it was always a challenge to find plus-size dresses, to the point where I had to have 3 of the 5 made for me by a tailor.

Wow!

Well anyhow, in case you're wondering -- I am seriously thinking about asking for HB's hand, and not because of the design possibilities. He's the love of my life and I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. Awww!

(Hopefully he doesn't really read my blog, hee.)

Madness

My world has been rocked, and by something I never would've imagined. One of my bosses went out on medical leave about 6 weeks ago, for surgery. Given that she didn't tell any of us what type of surgery she was having, I assumed it was probably something deeply personal such as a hysterectomy, while others in the office were speculating plastic surgery of some sort. Mind you, we're not talking about someone who is shy in any way, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt given that she was a radical feminist in the 70's, and a lesbian (until recently) to boot.

She sauntered back into work yesterday looking a good 20 lbs. lighter in the stomach. I looked at her and didn't quite know what to say. After some pressing by coworkers ("Soooo... are you ok after your, you know, surgery?"), she told us that she'd had a tummy tuck and some liposuction, and that opened the flood-gates. Whatever hesitancy she'd had to speak on the subject until then flew out the window and we were witness to a 45-minute long soliloquy on the wonder that was her plastic surgery.

The most horrifying part was when she whipped up her shirt to show us her "new" belly button. You know, because when you have a tummy tuck they pull the skin down taught to just above your pubic hair and sew it there -- thus, you no longer have your real belly button anymore and the surgeon has to create a new one. Red and inflamed, jagged, stitched, bizarre: those are the words to describe the new belly button, at least at this stage in the game.

There was much talk of drains that stuck out of her abdomen for several weeks during the recovery, and how she basically had to just stay laying down for four weeks straight. She spent the whole time in a Vicodin haze and then had to kick the ensuing addiction in order to return to work. It took a week for the withdrawl symptoms to subside, a week where she couldn't sleep, had hot and cold flashes, and apparently was a monsterous bitch. Meanwhile, she could barely walk to and from the bathroom without collapsing into sleep afterwards, because it took so much energy to just walk 10 paces.

One of my favorite things was hearing about how the surgery came to pass. She casually mentioned to her fiancee that she'd thought about having a tummy tuck since beginning menopause. He replied, "I'll pay for it if you want to do it." Then the consultation appointment where the plastic surgeon looked at her naked body and said, "Yep, you're a perfect candidate for these procedures. Your body is going to look hot after all is said and done." (Wow, I wonder if all plastic surgeons are so sincere?)

The madness is in just how proud she is of the entire thing. She was proud to have her fiancee pay for it, she was proud that the plastic surgeon flattered her, she was proud to have drains sticking out of her body and to have a Vicodin addiction, and now she's proud to show off her newly flattened stomach and new belly button.

I mean... it's seriously all just beyond me. I've watched episodes of Dr. 90210 and Nip/Tuck, and I've seen celebrity transformations in the tabloids. I've just never had someone in my own world get surgery, and it's heart-breaking. She doesn't think it's heart-breaking, she thinks it's ground-breaking. Not that I ever looked up to her specifically in terms of feminist values, but she represented something to me.

I guess you could say I've lost my innocence where this particular subject is concerned. (That happens a lot as an adult, and it's never less shocking than the last time it happened.) What normal person elects to have herself cut open and cut and scraped away (or added to) for the sake of vanity? I'm sorry for being a judgemental asshole, but you have got to be totally sick in the head if you think it's ok to do this to yourself. Celebrities are one thing - they're not normal and as sick as it is, their livelihood depends on their apprearance. I realize that lots of people get plastic surgery done, not just the usual suspects -- but again, never anyone in my world. Perhaps it wouldn't have felt so shocking if all my coworkers hadn't followed her sermon with, "Oh my god! I'm totally going to ask my husband if I can get it done now!"

And speaking of which, my personal albeit old-school feminist values are also all riled up by the fact that her fiancee endorsed it, paid for it, and is of course supporting the theory that she now looks hot. (Whereas before she looked like dog shit? I mean, come on!)

Sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick!

Fat girl shopping & a TV show to avoid

I decided to throw legal caution to the wind and link to all the plus size clothing stores I could find on the web. Some of the stores have pure crap in my opinion, but I've been bitching for years about the lack of plus size clothing stores so I'm just gonna zip it and link up. I honestly couldn't believe how many stores came up in the Yahoo search.

Of course, most of the stores listed are stores that already make thin-person clothes and have expanded their selection - but that's cool, I'm not complaining. But what I'd really love to see is some great plus-size boutiques that design and make their own clothes based on a concept, rather than to just cover the basics. We need some style and pizazz! We need sweet and cute dresses that are well-made and could make it to the pages of Glamour mag. (Yes, so they can be accessorized with some insanely large and wide leather belt with ugly "nailhead" studding on it... sorry, but have you seen the last two issues? I mean, bathing suits with belts?? Please save me!)

You know what surprised the hell out of me was to see that Eddie Bauer is now making up to size 26. Eddie and I, we go way back. Picture me in 1998: a size 20-22, a starving student transitioning into a starving graduate with an extremely low paying first job, a horrible shopping addiction, and a handful of store credit cards. Eddie Bauer pretty much outfitted me for said first job... preppy and cute with an affinity for twin-sets. (They also had excellent bedding - it was the first time I'd spent over $100 per sheet set - but that's another story for another time.) Eddie and I were on top of the world! Until I realized I could no longer keep up with minimum payments and had to succumb to Consumer Credit Counseling. And then again when I surpassed size 22. Eddie and I haven't spoken since then, but maybe we'll give it another whirl.

*****

Now, about that TV show to avoid... what exactly is up with TLC's stupid fucking "Honey, We're Killing the Kids!"? Along with "The Biggest Loser" and "Celebrity Fit Club", they don't try to hide how contemptuous they are of the fat folk they're trying to "help". "Honey" uses computer imaging/age progressions to show the parents what their fat kids are going to look like when they get older if they continue eating/not exercising on the same arc that they presently are. Hmm, interesting how little normal looking (but fat) 10 year old Johnny progresses into a fat balding fag! Yes, one earring, sloping puppy dog eyes, a bad comb-over and hygiene issues. And little normal looking (but fat) 8 year old Jenny progresses into a bedraggled trailerpark princess... thinning dirty hair pulled back into a messy low ponytail and all.

I would have never noticed this myself - never! - had I not been accidentally watching "The Soup" on E! one day. They did a bit that pointed out how ridiculous the whole age progression thing was.

You know, I get it... I get that kids are less active and more overfed today than at any other time in history. I get that obesity is at an all-time high. But I tend to lean towards the theory a different TLC show, "Shalom in the Home", is touting. Hello - PARENTS are the problem! Don't make the fat your kid is wearing the scapegoat for your own poor parenting. If you want your kid to be in shape and eat right, then you need to model that behavior for them, make it the norm in your household, and try to make it interesting and fun in some way. That's probably part of "Honey"'s theory too, but given that I've never made it through an entire show without throwing the remote at the wall, I wouldn't know. That Dr. Hark woman is a real piece of work.

And besides, I wonder how many people effectively lose weight and become healthy, especially in the long-term, as a result of scare tactics? (Which, by the way, was kind of a fun show.)

Iconic

I saw the trailer for Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man's Chest recently and just about squealed when scenes from the swampy bog, creaky house on stilts and all, were shown. Having grown up in Southern California, we went to Disneyland every couple of years and "Pirates of the Caribbean" was my favorite ride. I loved cruising through that swamp, and also the room where the two galleons were having the cannonball battle. The smell of that room was so distinct, as was the dark blue and cloudy "sky".

So, Disney has found a way to further capitalize on one of their most iconic rides. People like me will pay $10.50 to see the movie because the damn ride captured us as kids. (Orlando Bloom isn't quite reason enough to plunk down $10.50, believe me.)

At any rate, this got me thinking... who and what is iconic in the fat realm?

Two sprang to mind immediately. Cartman and his "I'm not fat, I'm big boned" is a no brainer. I'm not sure he gives fat people a good name, but at least it's a bold one.

The other one, nearer and dearer to my heart, is Divine playing Edna Turnblad in Hairspray. The image of Divine in Edna drag profile burned itself into my brain forever. Why? Because her clothes hang from the protruding bustline formed by that severely molded bra, and I saw myself. In 1989, I could make my best friend laugh her ass off simply by turning to profile, putting my hands on my hips, and waddling away while saying "Gosh darn that rock and roll music."

Let us not forget Tracy Turnblad, or Ricki Lake for that matter. Tracy proved that fat chicks can, and love to, dance. She landed the hot guy. She wore a large and lovely purple satin ballgown with a roach print on it, for gawd's sake. How can you not love that?

Ricki Lake, on the other hand, went the way of Oprah and had to lose weight before she felt good about herself. I will say in her defense that Jerry Springer stole the whole format from her, right down to the cheesy moralistic monologue at the end of each show, so at least she was a front-runner in something. Oprah is still struggling with her weight and self-esteem, which feels so very wasteful to me given that she's one of the most powerful and influential female voices in the US.

My Honey Bunny just named his favorite fat icon: Queen Latifa. He loves his Latifa. You know what I love about her? She's never made an issue out of her size or weight. I adored her as Mama Morton in Chicago. How can you not love that vast plateau of breasts during the "When You're Good to Mama" scene?

If we're talking boobs, we can't forget Aretha Franklin.

Hey, Monica Lewinsky... why not? (Thanks, HB)

Fat Albert.

Missy Elliot? (but she got the operation)

I could do a whole separate post on "what" is iconic in fat land. Geez, where do I even start on that one? TAB soda maybe.

*Phat Girlz*, Part 2

So I saw Phat Girlz last night, and it was definitely enjoyable. I hadn't realized that it was a low budget production, or that it was shot on digital video rather than film... and those things made me like it more, actually. It lended a sadness to the story that would've been missed if it were a sparklingly clean and expensive production.

Of course there's a happy ending - no surprise there - but I was glad (and somewhat surprised) to see and feel those "sad" qualitites during the majority of the film. Being fat is, afterall, complicated. Sometimes you feel like a diva and sometimes you feel like you're unlovable, and Mo'Nique did a great job of conveying that conflict in her role.

It's by no means a terrific or perfect movie. I just love that Mo'Nique decided to tackle the issue, and no matter how corny the ending gets - "Plus-Size Revolution Takes World By Storm!" - it's a sweet fantasy to have.

Mail order frustration

Is it just me or does mail ordering clothes totally suck? Stuff can look so good on catalog models but in person it looks like shit. I'm assuming this may is the case for thin people as well as thick. It doesn't really matter what size you are... if the clothes are badly made, then it's not going to look good, period. Well, except on catalog models because someone has clipped and pinned the crap out of the clothing to make it look tailored and crisp when it would otherwise look like an oversized misshapen gunny sack hanging on a "plus size" model's frame.

...which brings me to my next point. Why would a catalog selling plus-size clothing use thin models? Sorry, Silhouettes, but you really are one of the worst offenders here.

I just bought the boot-cut jeans from Silhouettes, actually. I thought, Why not? Couldn't be any worse than Lane Bryant. Oh yes it could be. They were so weirdly loose in the thighs, I looked like I should be a backup dancer for MC Hammer circa 1990. U can't touch this! I sent them back the next day. And lost the $7.95 I paid in shipping originally, plus paid almost the same to have it shipped back. I paid $14.95 to try on the equivalent of old-fashioned riding jodphurs and spend 20 minutes in line at the post office. Sweet.

And for the record, Lane Bryant's jeans really are the best jeans going these days. I'm sorry to have doubted you, oh mighty clothing chain!

For my birthday last week, I thought I'd buy myself a pretty little dress from Alight.com that I've had my eye on for awhile. I even paid for expedited shipping so it'd be here in time for me to wear to my party. Please know that the real deal looked NOTHING like the catalog picture. The waistline was about twice the size as the rest of the dress, and I still don't understand why that is. And the length of the dress is about two feet longer than you'd judge by the photo. So - again, back to the post office to wait in line with 15 other grumpy people and this time my toll for misguided mail order shopping was $28.00.

(By the way, if you took note of the Blue Plate clothing line when you checked out Alight.com - be sure to order 2 sizes bigger than you normally wear. It took two failed orders to learn that lesson for myself. Their stuff is cute as hell, I'll give 'em that... but they need to re-size their clothing line.)

Boy, the sad thing is that I could just keep going on and on. I've ordered stuff from pretty much every store listed on the sidebar at right, and 99% of the time it hasn't worked out. The only thing I've ever ordered that was successful were cork wedge sandals in wide width from Easy Spirit. Shoes are always our savior though, right?

I heart fat girl lit

Jennifer Weiner is such a fun writer. If you haven't read (or seen) In Her Shoes or read any of Jennifer's other work, I highly recommend it. Good in Bed will always be a classic for me. ("Shouts" to any of you who remember the first chapter of Good in Bed being published in Mode magazine!) Jennifer's blog, SnarkSpot, is bookmarked on my browser, and I check it out every few days - although it seems she's become a busy little bee in the past year and writes pretty infrequently. But when she does, it's a good time had by all.

Did anyone see her in the April issue of Glamour magazine? It was within an article called "What It's Like..." where various women weigh in on what their lives are like. For instance, "...to Become Famous as Jessica Simpson's Assistant", ie. Cacee Cobb. Jennifer Weiner's was, "...to be Plus Sized on the Red Carpet", in reference to her experience with In Her Shoes.

I've also been reading Liza Palmer's blog lately. Parts of Conversations with the Fat Girl hit so close to home, I practically shriveled in my own skin while reading.

My friend Theresa gave me Jane Green's novel, Bookends, for my birthday last year. I had read a cast-off copy of Jemima J a couple of years ago and really hated it. (Jennifer Weiner didn't like it either. I was at one of her book signings and someone asked her what "chick lit" books she didn't like. She said, and I'm paraphrasing, "I won't name names, but it rhymes with 'Fafima Fey'.") But, I read Bookends despite my hesitation and ended up liking it quite a bit.

There's lots of other good and/or fun fat girl fare out there. People have always told me I should read Wally Lamb's She's Come Undone, so I'm just about to embark on it. Hopefully it won't be too painful, but something tells me it's going to be.

Getting raw

I lost all my links because I changed the color of my blog. And all because someone told me, "Um, it's very PINK." You'd think a 33 year old woman would know to take comments preceded by "Um..." with a large grain of salt. UMMMM's are supposed to be funny, I guess. They're really just personal opinions with a pinch of criticism and belittlement.

I don't know if it's a fat thing (because I've been fat for literally 30 years now and don't know any other life), but I'm a very sensitive person and I can take things personally. It fluctuates. Sometimes I feel very strong and other people's opinions and criticisms roll off me like water off a duck's back. Other times, however...

My coworker, who is a very direct and blunt woman, once told me, "Nothing is personal. People act from their own experiences and for themselves." Which, granted, is very true. Need I even point out that my coworker telling me this was a product of confronting her about her communication style (which I perceived as condescending)?

I bring it up on this blog (the blog that I was trying to keep "light") because for me it directly relates to how vulnerable I'm feeling in my body. I feel pretty disconnected from it these days. I feel like a brain floating around in a badly-permed head, and the rest of me doesn't matter so much.

There's a deep childhood connection. I'm pretty sure I hated my body until recent years (consider this a shout-out to my [ex]therapist). I'm also pretty sure I learned that hatred from others, especially family. Anyone who grew up fat knows how much attention and criticism you get as a result of your body. When it comes directly from the people who are supposed to love and care for you, then the message is pretty darn mixed: I love you but I can also criticize you. Or worse: The way I love you is to criticize you, or, I reject you because of how you look. That shit can really wear you down to a raw nothing over the years. When you're a kid growing up, how are you supposed to know that the criticism you're receiving is not about you, but is instead about the criticizer's insecurities? Or that a concern for your health is "just" expressing itself as criticism?

This rawness I feel about my body right now is a familiar feeling. The familiar conclusion is that those around me are pointing their criticism at me because they notice my body and must comment on it. Afterall, if I'm thinking it about myself then I basically become a self-fulfilling prophesy. My childhood reaction was to retreat and be invisible. My adult reaction is to lash out, which is nominally better. At least I take care of myself enough to defend myself, even if it's from a phantom.

I'm not an Oprah fan, but two of her more successful weight-loss attempts conjure in my head as I'm writing. First, "making the connection". I've always assumed she meant "between mind and body", and I've always rejected that idea because it sounds like weight loss industry dogma. But sure, I'll admit maybe there's some truth in it.

The other Oprah sentiment is about working on and from your "core". I'm sure she thought she was being very clever with her double entendre meaning doing Pilates but also centering oneself. But again, I get it.

I think what I'm talking about is deeper than that, though. You can have a strong mind-body connection and a solid core, but if you get knocked off balance then it's pretty hard to apply those things. (Oprah herself was knocked off balance, many times!) Perhaps I'm speaking more to triggers... or in my case it feels like a domino-effect of triggers. Setting that shit back up again is really hard work and for me it always seems unfair in some way. I didn't put my body hatred there, so why should I have to fix it? Nevertheless, I do and I will.

On a last note, I'll have the links back up and running gradually. I welcome any suggestions for links and/or new link "genres" so write me if you got 'em.

ps. It's thundering and hailing like a mo-fo outside right now! What am I, in Texas?

Undies, Part 2: Thongs Are the Devil's Handywork

I remember when it struck me that thongs were going to play a larger role in culture than I really wanted them to. "The Thong Song" was at the height of its popularity, and I had a horrible crush on a coworker-friend who was starting to consistently point out girls who he deemed hot simply because they had thong or g-string straps hanging out the top of their low-rise jeans. Against my better judgement but propelled by what I thought was burning hot love on the horizon, I bought a thong at my earliest convenience. Low-rise jeans weren't yet being made for fat girls so I put on jeans that I knew gapped in the back when I bent over, pulled some scrap paper from my recycling bin, and went to work faux filing - in crouched position - in front of my coworker-friend's office. The only thing this accomplished was grossing out my other (gay) coworker-friend, Steve, who happened to witness the occasion from his own office windows. I heard a gasp, a mutterance of "Whoa, g-string", and thought to myself "oh shit."

Things never did work out with the (straight) coworker-friend, thankfully. Or the thong in general for that matter. I ended up throwing the aforementioned thong (and two g-strings from other ridiculous attempts; no comment) to a fiery grave one winter when I was into ceremonially burning old tired mementos.

Remember how I mentioned my friend Shasta in the "Undies, Part 1" posting? Regarding the thong, she'd said, "You just gotta get used to it." She also said that after a few days, the urge to pick the strap out your ass subsides which was not at all true for me. I could only wear a thong for an hour max before I felt like I was going crazy in my head, and had to get the thing out and away from my body ASAP. A few days?? No fucking way.

Lucky for me, there's diversity in the undies world and so I can be comfortable while still looking nice. There are lots of options to avoid what we used to call "VPL" in the 80's (Visable Panty Lines). It seems like skin tight pants/jeans without back pockets are out of vogue now, too. And oh my gawd, can we just acknowledge the fortunate passing of freakishly low-rise jeans and thongs decorated at the top of the butt with shit like sequined butterflies, ie. thongs that are made for the express purpose of hanging out the top of pants?! My favorite Project Runway word applies here: VULGAR. I don't want to know what's in someone else's buttcrack, thank you very much.

*Phat Girlz*

Tee hee, I was so happy to see this movie on the Apple Quicktime Movie Trailers site! It looks like it's going to be fun.

Undies, Part 1: Keeping the Girls Hoisted

Pretty much since the moment I turned 12, I've been on the Great Bra Hunt. There was a period in the mid to late 90's when I found a bra that fit correctly, and made the girls a nice shape, and wasn't butt ugly, and didn't break the bank. Size 38D comes to mind. Everything upwards of that has been all about finding a bra that is the lesser of the evils, a bra that will "do".

Truth be told, I wore two bras at once for a few years. Soft cup over underwire, because neither of them did the job alone. I was painfully embarassed by the situation. At one point, I was taking an aerobics class twice weekly, and would change my top in the restroom stall instead of at my locker. I mean, who wears two bras at once and actually admits it?!

One day I ended up at Norstroms because they have all the expensive fancy bras that supposedly fit and look better. There wasn't really money in my bank account for expensive bras, but I was desperate. I picked a few out and took them to the dressing room, praying for a good outcome. (This was pretty standard for the two-bra era. No matter what store I was in, I would pick out some bras that looked great on the hanger and I would absolutely pray they would fit - but they never did.) Nordstroms had a bra fitter that basically forced herself into my dressing room with measuring tape in hand after I tried on all the bras and told her they didn't fit. She looked at my choices and said, "If these didn't fit you, you've got a big problem. You must see my friend Carole in San Mateo." She wrote down Carole's number and the store name, which I found in the phone book when I got home... a 1/4-page ad that stated they had professional fitters, a huge selection, and specialized in odd bra sizes.

I hauled my cookies to San Mateo the next weekend and saw Carole. She measured me and determined that I needed a 40F. Every single 40F in that store looked like shit to begin with... stark white with scratchy unattractive polyester "lace" sewn over the solid polyester skeleton. They looked far worse on my apparently odd frame and torso... droopy cups, band too loose, no support, you name it. Carole was stumped and when you stump a professional bra-fitter - you are really in a pickle. She asked what I'd been doing thus far for a bra and I grugingly admitted my two-bra secret. She said, "Well if that's what works for you, then go with it!"

I confessed my secret to a few friends shortly after. One of them, Hilary, said, "Um, do you like them so high up on your chest like that, so supported, so perky?" I inferred from this that maybe it wasn't the best look. It was actually the growing popularity of the thong that got me back to wearing just one bra at a time. I'd had a crappy experience with the whole thong thing and asked my friend Shasta, who had made the thong conversion, how she'd done so. "You just gotta get used to it," she said. It didn't work for the thong, so instead I took this bit of advice to heart where my double-bra situation was concerned. I decided that if people can not only get used to, but actually prefer, having a strap or a string in their buttcracks all day long, I could get used to having my breasts hang a little freer.

The softcup bra gave me major uni-boob so I went with the underwire. Other than the creepy unprotected and unsupported feeling I had for the first month, the main cause for concern was the part of the wire that came up between my boobs. It certainly didn't lay flat against my chest like it's "supposed" to, but it was ok-ish for the first 10 minutes of wearing it. Then my posture would relax, or I'd sit down, or whatever, and the wire would end up sticking out from my body at a 90 degree angle, so much so that it would surpass the horizon line of my boobs. In a fit of rage about this one day, because really I had had just about enough of this bra bullshit, I grabbed the tops of the underwires and bent them violently towards my body. Who knew it would work so well that it'd be a method I still use to this day? It's the advantages of the underwire (structure, shape) combined with the advantages of the softcup (comfort, coverage). I bend at the other end of the underwire, too, if it happens to poke me in the armpit or upper under-arm. Yes, it leaves your bras looking sculpted and slightly mangled, but it works.... it really really works!

I also discovered, quite by accident, that minimizers work better for my particular boobs. Minimizers by nature provide a lot of support since they're made to squash. Currently my favorite bra style is a Lilyette minimizer that I bend the hell out of on the first wearing. The one thing you should never attempt is buying a bigger band or cup size in a minimizer thinking that it will fit like a normal bra by virtue of being bigger/not squashing. No no no, not true. I just threw out two bras that I'd purchased to test this theory... they were a complete joke.

Lane Bryant threw a curveball this fall. I hated their bras up until this current collection. It always seemed like they were going for the stylish thing moreso than the good fit thing. They would do stupid shit like make size 44DD bras with only two rows of hook enclosures (so the band in back was very narrow) or with straps that were a 1/4" wide. I swear the cups were not true, either. I couldn't squeeze my breasts into a DD with a crowbar when I was able to fit every other company's DD just fine. Believe me when I say I've been miffed about this for years. How in the hell could the largest, most visible fat girl clothing chain carry bras that were so ill-fitting??

I get emailed coupons from LB, one of which announced they were expanding their bra selection in both style and size. I didn't believe them until I did the most recent of my twice-annual LB shopping blowouts, after Thanksgiving. I found a DDD in a bra that was surprisingly pretty and had no expectation of it actually fitting correctly or at all. But alas, they must have resized their cups because these F girls fit into the DDD just fine, and the bra was comfortable too. I did the jump test, and they stayed in the cups. So I did it again, but for longer. All good! I didn't even get what my sister calls "bubbles", which is the effect one gets when the top and middle edge of the cup is too tight and boob starts to slowly spill out.

In December, LB had it's Buy 2 Get 2 Free bra sale so I anted up online and bought some of the styles offered in F cup, which they don't sell in store. When I was 21 I had to endure my friends wearing Vicky's Secret plunges that gave them insane cleavage while I settled for my crap bras. So how excited was I to put on the F cup balconette and have my cleavage look like Vicky's Secret plunge cleavage?? Don't get me wrong -- I think VS is heinous for myriad reasons but when you spend as many years on the bra fringes as I have, it's nice to take pause to be normal and average for a moment.

Unfortunately the other styles didn't really work, but I'm more than happy with two new bra styles to wear. Now I understand when the likes of Stacy London and InStyle tell you to choose the appropriate bra for the outfit. The balconette has to be used sparingly because of how padded and cleavage-inducing it is. The other aforementioned LB bra looks really atrocious with certain shirts... not really sure what's up with that. The Lilyette minimizer that I've customized via bending the wires, however, works for everything except plunging necklines.

The one thing LB can do to further redeem itself is offer the bigger bras in all the fun novelty patterns and such. Not sure why it's so impossible for a manufacturer to make a 44F in the fuscia and black polka dotted valentines edition of the balconette when they've already made a 44DD version of it...

Fat suit report on SNL

Did any of you catch Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live last night? (It was a rerun from 12/3/05, with host Dane Cook.) Rachel Dratch did a special guest report in which she dressed in a fat suit and went out in public with secret cameras, a la Tyra.

I loved at the end when she said she was going to put the suit back on and go on a date to Red Lobster with one of the black men who hit on her, because he'd told her he wanted to "get in all her crevices"!