Did I ever mention I post reviews on Burritophile? Well, apparently I haven't posted since January 2007... my, how time flies, as it seems like yesterday that I was working those reviews.
At any rate, a few days ago I decided to update one of my reviews after having a fairly bad burrito experience at one of my usual haunts. I updated it, then went through and looked at the other reviews I'd done and had a good laugh. Then I decided to see what other people had said after me about a couple places that I'd reviewed. Bad idea.
I'm being honest when I say I wasn't looking for reviews that referenced my reviews. Especially if one of my reviews were referenced in a negative way. And yet, there it was.
green67 said, "don't listen to the zaftig chick (it means she's "plump" and happy with it..until someone calls her f**)".
I admit I got lathered by it. Really, really lathered. Causing me to add a parenthetical counter-insult to my original review, which green67 will likely never read or see given that s/he hasn't posted for more than a year. Yet, it made me feel better.
And then... I thought about it all the way home from work. Things that put us in a tizzy are often the things that hit closest to home. Did green67 have a good point? Am I all for the Festively Plump cause until someone calls me "fat"?
Answer: yes and no.
My therapist and I were just talking about this blog, actually. She asked if I generally talk about the good things about being fat or the bad things. I told her that, originally, I wanted this blog to be positive about the fat experience but that (naturally) it evolved into being more neutral - and more honest. My mission lately has been to talk about the good, the bad and the BFD.
I reflected on this convo with Therapist when green67 rocked my world. Originally, yes, I was a plump gal who was trying to be happy about it ("until someone called me fat"). As a blogger, it didn't take long for that focus to run its course. There were many times I was dying to write about the bullshit... like wanting to go hiking with friends but being too embarassed by my lack of fitness, like enduring a monster truck-load of frat boys driving by yelling, "I wanna get a piece of you, pig!", like finding nothing pretty or interesting to wear to my company holiday party while my thinner coworkers were donning beautiful dresses by Ann Taylor, Max Azria, or, hell, even Issac Mizrahi for Target. Eventually I had to give in and talk about that stuff, because it is part - generally a very big part - of being fat.
Another thing I mused on was whether I could think of anyone who is genuinely happy about being plump, being called fat to her face or not. The only possible person I could think of is Mo'nique, but that's only because if someone called her fat she would probably barrage the person with an earful of insults to last a lifetime. That still doesn't mean she'd be ok with being called fat.
That brings me to my next point: being called fat vs. being mocked for being fat. There's a big difference. I may have mentioned this before but I previously worked with a therapist specializing in body image. She wanted me to take back the word "fat", likening it to when gay folk took back "fag" and "queer". She encouraged me to use and think of it as a descriptor rather than a slur. Once my "fat" paradigm shifted, being called fat no longer stung as bad. As in, I'd be walking down the street and pass a group of people and would hear someone say, "Did you see that fat chick?" Instead of wanting to run and hide in shame, I thought, "Yeah, I'm a fat chick. What of it?"
Speaking of which, let me take a moment to quote Digital Underground from the song "Humpty Dance":
Hey fat girl
Yeah, I called you fat
So I'm skinny,
That never stopped me from getting busy
It took me a long time to appreciate that, believe me, but I now I do. Not to mention, that song has a great bass riff.
Anyhow, what I'm trying to say is that being called fat in that manner is quite a bit different than being called a "pig" by the truckful of rednecks. If being called fat stings a bit, then being called pig is like taking a bullet to the chest. I find that kind of behavior inexcusable. I've said a lot of catty and shitty things about people in this lifetime - it's human nature - but at least I have enough respect for humanity to not speak crap like that to the person it's about (because it's not really even about them, y'know?), let alone yell it from the safety of a passing vehicle.
In the end, I stand by my counter-insult to green67:
"I'm a zaftig chick (yes, green67, that means I'm FAT - no asterisks necessary to soften the blow - but that in no way means I deserve to be mocked by you [a fellow reviewer] and especially not by people I'm paying my hard-earned dollars to for their food, you misanthropic, prejudiced fuckwad)"
ps. Saying something insulting to someone with no provocation = not cool. Saying something insulting to someone with provocation = my gloves come off. That's not model behavior, but it's who I am.
pss. In the interest of full disclosure, since I posted this yesterday I've thought of a few instances where I said something shitty to someone proactively. If only I could take each instance back now... I hate being a hypocrite.
28 October 2008
22 October 2008
Being The Bride
Hello, dear readers. I'm back. The wedding festivities have concluded. And I'm still zaftig!
Being the center of attention during All Things Wedding was pretty challenging. I think my Bitter Bridezilla post was really about feeling exposed, and whether or not I was acting or feeling like a bridezilla was beside the point.
Not to be all sob story but, growing up fat was pretty shitty. Right out of the gate I was set aside as "different" from everyone else and picked on relentlessly. Only made worse by the fact that I was also a totally weird kid. I mean, did you know anyone in grade school who would electively wear a homemade pirate shirt with homemade khaki canvas bloomers and a newsboy cap? Not on Halloween? Because they loved "Voyagers!" that much? [Sidenote: Jon-Erik Hexum was a total babe.] Folks, that was just the tip of the iceberg.
I was always torn in two directions... to be or not to be the center of attention. The fat kid in me wanted to hide at all costs. The weird kid in me wanted to boogie in the spotlight. The normal kid in me didn't want to be picked on for being fat or weird, she just wanted to belong.
Fast forward to Summer 2008. I had almost a year ramping up to being The Bride, littered with sleepless nights and the occasional panic attack. I always thought getting married was the thing scaring the crap out of me, and it was, but only to a certain extent. Now, after the fact, I can see I was mostly having a similar tug-o-war to the aforementioned youthful one.
The fat part of me was scared shitless to be so exposed, to be The Bride, to wear a wedding dress, to have to walk up and down the aisle in front of everyone, to be the guest of honor at three different parties, and the co-host and co-center of attention at the biggest party of all. I'm not just talking about the literal fat part of me. The emotions that come up around being The Bride after hiding and covering up for 30 odd years... that isn't just about the fat on my body. That's the mind-fuck of having been fat for a very long time. Some would even say it's the reason I'm fat to begin with (which, FYI, I'm not so quick to disagree with these days).
The fat part of me had no idea how to pick a dress, despite the fact that I love fashion and especially big fancy dresses and know, more or less, how to dress my body. Hey, remember my posts about picking the dress? Where do you think that came from? Fight, flight or freeze... I chose freeze but tried to make the best of it with whimsy.
Trying to lose weight before and for the wedding was, as my therapist often said, probably adding way too much to my already over-flowing plate. People are fat or get fat for a reason, in my opinion. It's either in a person's genetic makeup or it's a coping mechanism, and sometimes it's both. I put myself in the both category. I come from a long line of women who have giant boobs, prolific bellies and flat asses. I also come from a family with some issues, and eating through house and home was the way I dealt with it (along with being sedentary). Trying to undo all those issues and fight genetics in a 9-month period, in the midst of regular life and preparing for a wedding, was an exercise in futility. If I could do it all over again, I would still work with my personal trainer twice a week but I would have revamped my goal. Instead of it being all for the wedding, it was simply a good and solid starting point for a lifelong change in my health.
In terms of the weird part of me... I wanted to wear a big crazy stylish dress with big crazy stylish accessories amidst a big crazy stylish wedding. The weird part of me got excited at the prospect of walking down the aisle looking fab. Well, thankfully in the end we did not have a big crazy stylish wedding, despite a lot of hand-wringing on my part to make one happen. We had a down-scale and quirky wedding, which is perfect because that's who we are.
The thing that perplexes me is that being The Bride was hardest in the couple months preceding the wedding, and was not hard at all on wedding day. Being The Bride is just a set of expectations I had for myself, or rather put on myself. I always thought The Bride was lovely and glowing because she was so in love, happy, thin, beautiful, nicely dressed, reveling in being the center of attention. Given what I've written so far, can you imagine a worse scenario for my fat ego? Not to mention that when you're in your 30's, have a full time job, are paying for and coordinating your own DIY wedding, things are a little different. Yeah, I was definitely glowing because I was in love... but also because I was sweating profusely while setting up flower arrangements and rented tables and chairs in my reception hall!
Sorry, tangent. What I'm trying to say is that I had an unreasonable set of expectations for being The Bride and it made me totally miserable. I don't actually think those expectations had much or anything to do with a lifetime of fatness. I think the idea of what a bride is supposed to look and act like, leading up to and including the wedding, is ingrained in our culture.
And, all expectations aside, I had a really hard time being the guest of honor when all I'd done was fall in love and decide to get married. When I graduated from college -- dude, I loved that party because my degree was hard-earned. If I ever show a collection of my best photographs or design work -- you know I will bust out the AmEx and the champers to fete that shit with my posse. But, getting married? Seriously? I just felt kind of... lame... at the shower, bachelorette and rehearsal parties.
Wedding day, that was different. Being The Bride was natural on wedding day, genuine and not forced in any way. I forgot that I was fat and just lived and experienced, and that's the way it should be every day.
Being the center of attention during All Things Wedding was pretty challenging. I think my Bitter Bridezilla post was really about feeling exposed, and whether or not I was acting or feeling like a bridezilla was beside the point.
Not to be all sob story but, growing up fat was pretty shitty. Right out of the gate I was set aside as "different" from everyone else and picked on relentlessly. Only made worse by the fact that I was also a totally weird kid. I mean, did you know anyone in grade school who would electively wear a homemade pirate shirt with homemade khaki canvas bloomers and a newsboy cap? Not on Halloween? Because they loved "Voyagers!" that much? [Sidenote: Jon-Erik Hexum was a total babe.] Folks, that was just the tip of the iceberg.
I was always torn in two directions... to be or not to be the center of attention. The fat kid in me wanted to hide at all costs. The weird kid in me wanted to boogie in the spotlight. The normal kid in me didn't want to be picked on for being fat or weird, she just wanted to belong.
Fast forward to Summer 2008. I had almost a year ramping up to being The Bride, littered with sleepless nights and the occasional panic attack. I always thought getting married was the thing scaring the crap out of me, and it was, but only to a certain extent. Now, after the fact, I can see I was mostly having a similar tug-o-war to the aforementioned youthful one.
The fat part of me was scared shitless to be so exposed, to be The Bride, to wear a wedding dress, to have to walk up and down the aisle in front of everyone, to be the guest of honor at three different parties, and the co-host and co-center of attention at the biggest party of all. I'm not just talking about the literal fat part of me. The emotions that come up around being The Bride after hiding and covering up for 30 odd years... that isn't just about the fat on my body. That's the mind-fuck of having been fat for a very long time. Some would even say it's the reason I'm fat to begin with (which, FYI, I'm not so quick to disagree with these days).
The fat part of me had no idea how to pick a dress, despite the fact that I love fashion and especially big fancy dresses and know, more or less, how to dress my body. Hey, remember my posts about picking the dress? Where do you think that came from? Fight, flight or freeze... I chose freeze but tried to make the best of it with whimsy.
Trying to lose weight before and for the wedding was, as my therapist often said, probably adding way too much to my already over-flowing plate. People are fat or get fat for a reason, in my opinion. It's either in a person's genetic makeup or it's a coping mechanism, and sometimes it's both. I put myself in the both category. I come from a long line of women who have giant boobs, prolific bellies and flat asses. I also come from a family with some issues, and eating through house and home was the way I dealt with it (along with being sedentary). Trying to undo all those issues and fight genetics in a 9-month period, in the midst of regular life and preparing for a wedding, was an exercise in futility. If I could do it all over again, I would still work with my personal trainer twice a week but I would have revamped my goal. Instead of it being all for the wedding, it was simply a good and solid starting point for a lifelong change in my health.
In terms of the weird part of me... I wanted to wear a big crazy stylish dress with big crazy stylish accessories amidst a big crazy stylish wedding. The weird part of me got excited at the prospect of walking down the aisle looking fab. Well, thankfully in the end we did not have a big crazy stylish wedding, despite a lot of hand-wringing on my part to make one happen. We had a down-scale and quirky wedding, which is perfect because that's who we are.
The thing that perplexes me is that being The Bride was hardest in the couple months preceding the wedding, and was not hard at all on wedding day. Being The Bride is just a set of expectations I had for myself, or rather put on myself. I always thought The Bride was lovely and glowing because she was so in love, happy, thin, beautiful, nicely dressed, reveling in being the center of attention. Given what I've written so far, can you imagine a worse scenario for my fat ego? Not to mention that when you're in your 30's, have a full time job, are paying for and coordinating your own DIY wedding, things are a little different. Yeah, I was definitely glowing because I was in love... but also because I was sweating profusely while setting up flower arrangements and rented tables and chairs in my reception hall!
Sorry, tangent. What I'm trying to say is that I had an unreasonable set of expectations for being The Bride and it made me totally miserable. I don't actually think those expectations had much or anything to do with a lifetime of fatness. I think the idea of what a bride is supposed to look and act like, leading up to and including the wedding, is ingrained in our culture.
And, all expectations aside, I had a really hard time being the guest of honor when all I'd done was fall in love and decide to get married. When I graduated from college -- dude, I loved that party because my degree was hard-earned. If I ever show a collection of my best photographs or design work -- you know I will bust out the AmEx and the champers to fete that shit with my posse. But, getting married? Seriously? I just felt kind of... lame... at the shower, bachelorette and rehearsal parties.
Wedding day, that was different. Being The Bride was natural on wedding day, genuine and not forced in any way. I forgot that I was fat and just lived and experienced, and that's the way it should be every day.
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