Apparently I've been bitten by the snowboarding bug. Or at the very least, the excitement bug. Last weekend I went to the snow, as promised, and took a snowboarding lesson for the first time. It was a panic-inducing and terrifying experience -- and that just accounts for the days, hours and minutes leading up to the lesson. The actual lesson was pretty darn groovy, even if it was in a near whiteout.
I had actually seen Therapist on the Monday prior to the trip and told her that I was surprisingly calm about the whole thing. Strangely, just telling her that started the issues ball rolling. Funny how that happens... I either go to therapy not wanting to talk about something but then I do and feel a million times better, OR I go in thinking I'm all good and come out of the session whipped into a froth.
On Wednesday of last week, I took a long lunch to go to my local ski shop to get fitted for rentals. They assured me that they had rental boots that would fit both my wide-ass feet and my wide-ass calves, and yet there the sales rep stood before me: flummoxed as all hell. "Huh. These usually fit our most unfittable clients," he said. I left in tears and called my bestie for a pep talk.
"Just do the lesson and if you hate it, then you go back to the lodge and relax. It doesn't mean you're a failure if you don't like skiing anymore. In fact, it's a victory if you just go and try it."
Good point.
And yet I found myself in quite the dither for the rest of the day, culminating in a long, unavoidable talk with Honey Bunny about the possibility of just forgetting about this whole skiing thing. It become clear through the meltdown and tears that, at least at this point, I have too much invested in trying skiing "again". Skiing was so much a part of my identity growing up, and I have always felt like it would be easy to pick back up again... that I should pick it back up again, because if I don't then what does that say about me? That I'm too fat to do it anymore? That I no longer care for something that I felt a passion for when I was a kid? And, worst of all... what if I'm no longer good at it? I decided at that moment that I was going to switch to snowboarding. Doing so meant that if it was a failure, there was little to nothing invested in it. I had an excuse for being slow at learning or entirely bad at it: I've never done it before.
The next day I contacted the resort and changed my private lesson to snowboarding, but not before I turned the receptionist into a 2nd therapist. I told her I was fat and not in the best of shape, and asked if I was crazy for trying snowboarding. She laughed and said, among many other things, "Just come prepared for it to be really hard because it's really hard for everyone in the beginning. And remember, it's always good to try new things, so this is a good thing you're doing."
I also went back to the ski shop and got fitted for the boots and board. To my surprise the boots were not abundantly more comfortable than ski boots, but they were definitely more forgiving. Hey, my toes did not fall asleep within 30 seconds! That is a snow sports miracle for wide-footed people everywhere.
This is a good time to mention that the weatherpeople were forcasting 80% chance of snow starting at, oh, 1pm on Friday. My lesson was scheduled for 2pm. This didn't make me unhappy or panicked (yet). It, in fact, relieved me by providing an extra excuse for possible failure at snowboarding.
Also a good time to mention that pretty much everyone I told about trying snowboarding would stop in their tracks, look me up and down, and say something like, ".....really? Cuz my sister's friend - she's 5'10", 105 lbs and a gym fanatic - tried snowboarding when she was 18 and had to be on heavy painkillers from the bruising and muscle aches for the following five days. Then she went back a week later and tried it again and broke both arms." Having spent six long weeks in external traction for a shattered wrist from trying to get back into my other childhood passion, rollerskating, I was a tad worried. Wrist guards, check.
We arrived at the resort at about noon on Friday. I started crying in the parking lot but quickly sucked it up. My nephew, who has been snowboarding since 2002, decided he was going to introduce me to boarding before my lesson. It was probably nerves more than anything but the 20-minute act of both him and I trying desperately to get me buckled into the bindings sent me back into orbit. My toes had long since fallen asleep, my feet in general were starting to ache, the snow was falling faster and faster, the wind picking up. I choked out, "I... need to go to the bathroom. See you after the lesson." More crying ensued. I went up to the cafeteria where I looked out the giant windows at the slopes. Watched my nephew meet up with Honey Bunny, watched as he told HB that I fled, HB briefly looking up at the cafeteria windows, then looking down in defeat, followed by a slow shrug, and then off they went to the lift together.
I felt so miserable in that moment. I felt so abandoned and pathetic. But at least I was sitting down, my feet slowly coming back to life. I watched thin people come in from skiing and boarding, smiles on their wind-chapped faces, sitting down exhausted from their day of riding. Why can't it ever be that easy for me?, I wondered. I'm just going to go down to the ticket office and cancel this fucking lesson.
But, the more I sat there, the more I regained my composure. I had to decide to let go of every single expectation I had. I had to decide not to hate everyone in the room for being seemingly better at this snow shit than me. Eventually, as I stared out of the window at the worsening weather conditions, I thought, Omigod, I'm on fucking Hoth. And I cracked up! I also formulated the best Facebook posting ever (IMHO) in my head, making myself laugh even more. I couldn't post it until I had signal but hey, my inside joke propelled me to a better mood and a can-do attitude.
At 1:50, I marched right out to the lesson meeting point and stood there, completely unafraid of What Happens Next. Awesome Rich, as I now call him, was my instructor. Like me, he is in his late 30's and married. Unlike me, he's competed in Super Pipe competitions with the likes of Shaun White. I love how he said, "I did all that shit and lived the life but now I'm here, and I love what I do. I would so much rather be teaching you how to snowboard than competing for a medal." There was absolutely no irony or sarcasm in his voice, trust me. I believe him because he's a great teacher who taught me to snowboard.
I snowboarded, people! At first with him holding my hand, helping me maintain low speed and control, but eventually on my own. With mascara running down my face (see also: The Makeup Queen, 100% Whored Up). With a snow outfit I thought was cute but really was kinda lame, oh well! Dude, I even wore goggles.
By the end of the lesson, I had only fallen twice and Awesome Rich told me he thought I did really well for a first-timer. He also said, "I'm pretty sure all the lifts are going to be iced over within a half hour, so I would recommend going inside at this point." Phew. Sipping a Vodka Tonic as I sat in the resort saloon waiting for my nephew and Honey Bunny to come in was a nice close to the day. It was also nice to stretch my calves and feet. Imagine trying to push a brick through solid ground using only your toes and some leverage provided by bended knees, and that's snowboarding on your toe edge. The heel edge is not as hard but is trickier and requires a finer sense of balance. Snowboarding is intensely physically demanding but is much, much easier technically than everyone said.
I wussed out a bit and didn't go back on Saturday like Rich had recommended. I loved it but I needed to completely come down from the high anxiety of the week leading up, and visit with family a bit (the actual reason we went to the snow, FYI). I did plan on going back on Sunday but HB came home on Saturday night looking as fried as I've ever seen him and said he couldn't possibly ski another day. Oh well, here's looking to next season.
Meanwhile I'd like to condition a bit and am thinking about purchasing a balance board (which is good for a lot of things, I hear). When I think back on what it was like to snowboard on my own, especially when I realized that Awesome Rich had let go of my hand and I was doing it on my own accord... it was amazing. I can see how people get hooked. Apparently I'm hooked.
Psst! I also found some wide boot and better clothing options that I'll be testing in the meantime. I'm having fun. Life is indeed good when you try new things.
19 March 2010
12 February 2010
Yikes, Scoobs... snow sports!
Age 8: Learned how to ski for the first time and love, love, loved it.
Age 10: A solid Intermediate level skier, I'd happily graduated to doing stemming/skidding turns and self-imposed time trials on my favorite runs.
Age 13: Stopped skiing because puberty hit and I could no longer fit in my ski clothes, nor could I find any new ones in my dad's price range that I would be ok being seen in.
Age 17: Went skiing with my BFF for the first time in four years wearing jeans and a casual jacket (froze my ass off). Ended the day thinking I was going to die of bruising and muscle aches, and swore off any future skiing.
Age 25: Heavily intoxicated while watching the Winter X Games on TV with my roommates, Jonnel Janewicz crosses the screen as one of the contenders of Women's Snowboarder X. I attended school with Jonnel from pre-school through high school graduation, was in the Girl Scouts with her in 6th grade, and she, eh... really wasn't so nice to me. Seeing her success as an athlete and cool snowboarder chick threw me into a shame spiral of epic proportions, and I decided I was going to learn how to snowboard. Lack of funds, motivation and courage prevented this goal from coming to fruition.
Age 32: Honey Bunny talks me into going on a trip to his favorite resort to get snowboarding lessons while he skis. A month prior I find appropriate and not-completely-unfortunate snow gear for fat girls at Junonia, and HB orders it for me as a gift. As luck would have it, it was a warm winter and the resort closed the weekend before our trip.
Ages 33 - 36: Honey Bunny tries, unsuccessfully, each winter to talk me into going skiing or snowboarding with him. I give him various excuses each year.
Age 37: THERE'S NO GETTING OUT OF IT THIS YEAR.
I'll set the stage for you. Last week, HB announced he was going to go skiing on the weekend, and asked if I was coming with him or not. I said no. He asked why. I didn't have a great answer, and an argument ensued about my phyiscal and emotional readiness - or not - for snow sports. He left on the weekend to go skiing while I stayed home to play out my requisite secret single behaviors (usually involves a super veggie burrito with extra hot green sauce and a giant lemony Diet Coke from Zona Rosa while catching up on all the "chick shows" backlogged in my DV-R).
Just about to embark on my shopping marathon at the Union Square Macy's on Saturday (a not-so-secret, not-so-single behavior, but nevertheless fun to do while Man is out of town), I grabbed my coat from the hall closet... the same hall closet where the Junonia snow clothes have been stored since five years ago when they were purchased. I saw them hanging there - lonely, dusty, rejected - and wondered why I was being so resistant. I took off my nice shopping clothes and tried them on, right there and then.
Once I had the clothes on, I could picture myself at least trying to learn (snowboarding) or remember (skiing). One of the biggest reasons behind creating this blog was to push the notion that no fat girl should be afraid to TRY... to try something new, to try something scary, to try something that fat people don't normally try purely because they're fat. Little by little, my resistance was worn down as I stood there and stared in the mirror at myself in that snow suit, and tried to visualize having a good time trying something new.
So, I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna suit up and rent equipment and take a lesson and see how it goes. Not sure if it's skiing or snowboarding I'm gonna do, but I'll figure it out sometime in the next month.
Not before tending to a little business, however... the business known as vanity. As I told HB upon his return, there are two levels of comfort for me: the comfort of knowing I look ok, and actual comfort. The snow pants he got me are great on all levels. The jacket is... not.
I got to quick work on the internet (eg. the only place a fat chick can purchase sport-specific gear for anything other than the gym). Thank god Eddie Bauer, LL Bean and Lands End carry plus sizes because I actually found six jackets that would work. I can't help but think about five years ago and the now-unfortunate snow jacket I got, and how it was literally the ONLY thing available at that time, internet or not.
In the end, I whittled it down to two jackets, and decided to have both shipped thinking I'd return the one that didn't work. They both arrived yesterday and are both just lovely. So lovely, in fact, that Honey Bunny said I should keep both. The SnowPack 700 is a lightweight option, good for hanging out in cold and/or snow in general, especially good for warmer slope days and when/if I get better and need less padding. It also has a nice fitted shape to it and is strangely flattering. I got it in Persian Blue, although am quite tempted to exchange for the Bright Raspberry. Hmmm.
The SnowRoller is The Works, by comparison. It's not as fitted or flattering but is quite warm, has lots of pockets and ways to customize the fit both inside and out, and has the added benefit of looking, shape-wise anyhow, most like the regular size snowboard chick-wear. I got it in Ice Blue. As Honey Bunny also had me try on the original Junonia jacket (just because it's tough, thick and uber warm) and it didn't look so bad by comparison, he convinced me not to eBay it. It's also in the powder blue range. In toto, that makes three powder blue jackets: one light, one medium, one heavy. Sweet!
I also purchased some long underwear from Lands End along with the jackets. Ok, can I just say that they have come a long way since 1984? At that time, the only thing available for me (ahem, was affordable to dad) was the waffle-weave type in Men's sizes. Looking back, they were clearly too tight or not sized right in general because I remember wrestling with the bottoms at the end of every run, wrestling to keep them up to my waist and yet not bagging in the crotch. Yuck. These here modern "silk underwear" are thin, stretchy and fit correctly and closely to the body but without being tight. Who knew?
The last two things on my list are gloves and a beanie. Those I can get from an actual sports store and will probably be from a cool brand (yay!!) such as Burton, Da Kine, whatever. I told you I was vain.
Oh, and just so you know... I'm Facebook friends with Jonnel now after having messaged her to say that I saw her on the X Games in the 90's and was really impressed by seeing her success.
Age 10: A solid Intermediate level skier, I'd happily graduated to doing stemming/skidding turns and self-imposed time trials on my favorite runs.
Age 13: Stopped skiing because puberty hit and I could no longer fit in my ski clothes, nor could I find any new ones in my dad's price range that I would be ok being seen in.
Age 17: Went skiing with my BFF for the first time in four years wearing jeans and a casual jacket (froze my ass off). Ended the day thinking I was going to die of bruising and muscle aches, and swore off any future skiing.
Age 25: Heavily intoxicated while watching the Winter X Games on TV with my roommates, Jonnel Janewicz crosses the screen as one of the contenders of Women's Snowboarder X. I attended school with Jonnel from pre-school through high school graduation, was in the Girl Scouts with her in 6th grade, and she, eh... really wasn't so nice to me. Seeing her success as an athlete and cool snowboarder chick threw me into a shame spiral of epic proportions, and I decided I was going to learn how to snowboard. Lack of funds, motivation and courage prevented this goal from coming to fruition.
Age 32: Honey Bunny talks me into going on a trip to his favorite resort to get snowboarding lessons while he skis. A month prior I find appropriate and not-completely-unfortunate snow gear for fat girls at Junonia, and HB orders it for me as a gift. As luck would have it, it was a warm winter and the resort closed the weekend before our trip.
Ages 33 - 36: Honey Bunny tries, unsuccessfully, each winter to talk me into going skiing or snowboarding with him. I give him various excuses each year.
Age 37: THERE'S NO GETTING OUT OF IT THIS YEAR.
I'll set the stage for you. Last week, HB announced he was going to go skiing on the weekend, and asked if I was coming with him or not. I said no. He asked why. I didn't have a great answer, and an argument ensued about my phyiscal and emotional readiness - or not - for snow sports. He left on the weekend to go skiing while I stayed home to play out my requisite secret single behaviors (usually involves a super veggie burrito with extra hot green sauce and a giant lemony Diet Coke from Zona Rosa while catching up on all the "chick shows" backlogged in my DV-R).
Just about to embark on my shopping marathon at the Union Square Macy's on Saturday (a not-so-secret, not-so-single behavior, but nevertheless fun to do while Man is out of town), I grabbed my coat from the hall closet... the same hall closet where the Junonia snow clothes have been stored since five years ago when they were purchased. I saw them hanging there - lonely, dusty, rejected - and wondered why I was being so resistant. I took off my nice shopping clothes and tried them on, right there and then.
Once I had the clothes on, I could picture myself at least trying to learn (snowboarding) or remember (skiing). One of the biggest reasons behind creating this blog was to push the notion that no fat girl should be afraid to TRY... to try something new, to try something scary, to try something that fat people don't normally try purely because they're fat. Little by little, my resistance was worn down as I stood there and stared in the mirror at myself in that snow suit, and tried to visualize having a good time trying something new.
So, I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna suit up and rent equipment and take a lesson and see how it goes. Not sure if it's skiing or snowboarding I'm gonna do, but I'll figure it out sometime in the next month.
Not before tending to a little business, however... the business known as vanity. As I told HB upon his return, there are two levels of comfort for me: the comfort of knowing I look ok, and actual comfort. The snow pants he got me are great on all levels. The jacket is... not.
I got to quick work on the internet (eg. the only place a fat chick can purchase sport-specific gear for anything other than the gym). Thank god Eddie Bauer, LL Bean and Lands End carry plus sizes because I actually found six jackets that would work. I can't help but think about five years ago and the now-unfortunate snow jacket I got, and how it was literally the ONLY thing available at that time, internet or not.
In the end, I whittled it down to two jackets, and decided to have both shipped thinking I'd return the one that didn't work. They both arrived yesterday and are both just lovely. So lovely, in fact, that Honey Bunny said I should keep both. The SnowPack 700 is a lightweight option, good for hanging out in cold and/or snow in general, especially good for warmer slope days and when/if I get better and need less padding. It also has a nice fitted shape to it and is strangely flattering. I got it in Persian Blue, although am quite tempted to exchange for the Bright Raspberry. Hmmm.
The SnowRoller is The Works, by comparison. It's not as fitted or flattering but is quite warm, has lots of pockets and ways to customize the fit both inside and out, and has the added benefit of looking, shape-wise anyhow, most like the regular size snowboard chick-wear. I got it in Ice Blue. As Honey Bunny also had me try on the original Junonia jacket (just because it's tough, thick and uber warm) and it didn't look so bad by comparison, he convinced me not to eBay it. It's also in the powder blue range. In toto, that makes three powder blue jackets: one light, one medium, one heavy. Sweet!
I also purchased some long underwear from Lands End along with the jackets. Ok, can I just say that they have come a long way since 1984? At that time, the only thing available for me (ahem, was affordable to dad) was the waffle-weave type in Men's sizes. Looking back, they were clearly too tight or not sized right in general because I remember wrestling with the bottoms at the end of every run, wrestling to keep them up to my waist and yet not bagging in the crotch. Yuck. These here modern "silk underwear" are thin, stretchy and fit correctly and closely to the body but without being tight. Who knew?
The last two things on my list are gloves and a beanie. Those I can get from an actual sports store and will probably be from a cool brand (yay!!) such as Burton, Da Kine, whatever. I told you I was vain.
Oh, and just so you know... I'm Facebook friends with Jonnel now after having messaged her to say that I saw her on the X Games in the 90's and was really impressed by seeing her success.
Wholly offensive
Yahoo's Shine is just brimming with interesting information, it seems. When I was digging through the archives to find links for my last post, I came across this one:
Should your employer offer incentives for losing weight? Whole Foods does
GASP.
I can't figure out what is more offensive -- the fact that Whole Foods offers incrementally more % of an employee discount to those who have a BMI of <30, or that their CEO fully admits it has everything to do with reducing health care costs of the company (and, presumably, nothing to do with the actual health of the employees). I keep thinking, Could he have at least made some attempt at spin in this situation? (Although I generally hate spin, especially from companies who do almost $5 billion in annual sales. And yes, sometimes I forego my values in favor of being reactionary.)
Also of note in this article: "Research indicates that companies with employees who are fit and healthy do have a better bottom line." OMG.
When I told Honey Bunny about all this last night, in addition to interjecting the question "Has anyone sued them yet?" about 14 times during the course of my story, he concluded by saying, "The difference between a 20% and 30% discount isn't really a big deal when you're buying a $25 bottle of laundry detergent to begin with." Heh.
Again with the reactionary: I'm now boycotting Whole Foods. Let's see how long I can hold out, given that they're my go-to for all the crap our co-op doesn't offer.
Should your employer offer incentives for losing weight? Whole Foods does
GASP.
I can't figure out what is more offensive -- the fact that Whole Foods offers incrementally more % of an employee discount to those who have a BMI of <30, or that their CEO fully admits it has everything to do with reducing health care costs of the company (and, presumably, nothing to do with the actual health of the employees). I keep thinking, Could he have at least made some attempt at spin in this situation? (Although I generally hate spin, especially from companies who do almost $5 billion in annual sales. And yes, sometimes I forego my values in favor of being reactionary.)
Also of note in this article: "Research indicates that companies with employees who are fit and healthy do have a better bottom line." OMG.
When I told Honey Bunny about all this last night, in addition to interjecting the question "Has anyone sued them yet?" about 14 times during the course of my story, he concluded by saying, "The difference between a 20% and 30% discount isn't really a big deal when you're buying a $25 bottle of laundry detergent to begin with." Heh.
Again with the reactionary: I'm now boycotting Whole Foods. Let's see how long I can hold out, given that they're my go-to for all the crap our co-op doesn't offer.
10 February 2010
Jerri Gray's responsibility
I've been thinking about this article ever since I came across it:
Where do parents fit in the childhood obesity puzzle?
For starters I always love the inevitable accompanying photo of a really fat person - so fat that s/he is seemingly bursting at the seams - with these articles. [Sarcasm.] The fat person is always shown from the back or, if from the front, from the neck or waist down, presumably to preserve the person's anonymity. I especially love the one with this article since it's a fat child surrounded by several other fat children at the pool, everyone in bathing suits.
That said, I actually liked the content of the article and thought it made some good points. I got to it because I read this piece and also this one, about Alexander Draper being removed from his home and mother and put in foster care. Social services asserts his mother was being medically neglectful by not tending to her son's severe obesity.
This is one of those rare cases where an interest of mine (fatism) collides with my work world (child welfare). While I'm not a social worker myself, I've been orbiting in the public social services world for long enough to have an informed opinion.
To address that particular area: it is one of the most traumatic experiences for a child to be removed from his/her home, and it "should" only happen if there is an immediate and compelling safety issue at hand. Obesity, to me, doesn't qualify here. It is a compelling risk that can be managed (starting immediately) by social services while still keeping the child in his home. Unfortunately, Alexander's mother, Jerri Gray, fled the state with him upon learning that she was being investigated for neglect and thus, we have the makings of a safety issue for the child, and he was removed from her care when Jerri and Alexander resurfaced. It's just too bad that reports from news outlets are failing to mention this key plot twist in favor of sensationalism about childhood obesity and criminality.
Allow me, for just a moment, to indulge in being even more of a card-carrying member of the PC Police. Here we have a single Black mother who was working the equivalent of 2-3 jobs to make ends meet, and who said she'd bring home fast food for dinner because there was no time to cook. Let's assume that if she's working 2-3 jobs she's probably financially strapped as well, and fast food is cheap. Fast food chains also tend to be prevalent in low income neighborhoods and especially where there are populations of color, and therefore those populations tend to have health and/or weight problems as a result. There is also a huge problem in the US with disproportionality, with predominantly Black families in the child welfare system. Can you say "vicious circle"?
The point of the original article was to explore the question: if adults must always accept personal responsibility for being fat, then who bears the responsibility for a child being fat? I've often wondered that myself, especially as Honey Bunny and I have been trying to have a kid. Because I'm fat and have been so since childhood (and HB carries a bit extra himself), does that mean we're destined to have a fat kid? Because I don't have great exercise habits myself, will I care less about making sure my kid has an active lifestyle?
I think of my friend Gina and her daughter Chloe. Gina is petite in every way but I would never characterize her as "active". While she does enjoy some occasional snowboarding in winter and casual bike rides in the summer, she doesn't go to the gym or to yoga or anything like that. In fact, she eschews "working out" because it's not enjoyable to her. But yet, Chloe has been active in soccer and softball since she was about five years old, and at Gina's behest. Chloe likes those particular sports too, of course, otherwise Gina says she would find something else for Chloe to do. Chloe is now 13 and I've known her since she was four; Gina's got some years of parenting under her belt, and I plan to steal several of her methods (up to and including taking my kid to rock shows, Burning Man and various other events typically for adults that a kid could really enjoy). In the end, I don't know that parents manifesting the athleticism they'd like to see in their kids is what kids need to see in order to integrate being active into their own lives. I could be wrong, though.
On a different and last note, I have to say that the comments section of these types of online articles always really horrify me. There is a lot of judgement, and some outright hatred, for fat and fat people. It makes me wonder: what about being fat is so inexcusable?
Where do parents fit in the childhood obesity puzzle?
For starters I always love the inevitable accompanying photo of a really fat person - so fat that s/he is seemingly bursting at the seams - with these articles. [Sarcasm.] The fat person is always shown from the back or, if from the front, from the neck or waist down, presumably to preserve the person's anonymity. I especially love the one with this article since it's a fat child surrounded by several other fat children at the pool, everyone in bathing suits.
That said, I actually liked the content of the article and thought it made some good points. I got to it because I read this piece and also this one, about Alexander Draper being removed from his home and mother and put in foster care. Social services asserts his mother was being medically neglectful by not tending to her son's severe obesity.
This is one of those rare cases where an interest of mine (fatism) collides with my work world (child welfare). While I'm not a social worker myself, I've been orbiting in the public social services world for long enough to have an informed opinion.
To address that particular area: it is one of the most traumatic experiences for a child to be removed from his/her home, and it "should" only happen if there is an immediate and compelling safety issue at hand. Obesity, to me, doesn't qualify here. It is a compelling risk that can be managed (starting immediately) by social services while still keeping the child in his home. Unfortunately, Alexander's mother, Jerri Gray, fled the state with him upon learning that she was being investigated for neglect and thus, we have the makings of a safety issue for the child, and he was removed from her care when Jerri and Alexander resurfaced. It's just too bad that reports from news outlets are failing to mention this key plot twist in favor of sensationalism about childhood obesity and criminality.
Allow me, for just a moment, to indulge in being even more of a card-carrying member of the PC Police. Here we have a single Black mother who was working the equivalent of 2-3 jobs to make ends meet, and who said she'd bring home fast food for dinner because there was no time to cook. Let's assume that if she's working 2-3 jobs she's probably financially strapped as well, and fast food is cheap. Fast food chains also tend to be prevalent in low income neighborhoods and especially where there are populations of color, and therefore those populations tend to have health and/or weight problems as a result. There is also a huge problem in the US with disproportionality, with predominantly Black families in the child welfare system. Can you say "vicious circle"?
The point of the original article was to explore the question: if adults must always accept personal responsibility for being fat, then who bears the responsibility for a child being fat? I've often wondered that myself, especially as Honey Bunny and I have been trying to have a kid. Because I'm fat and have been so since childhood (and HB carries a bit extra himself), does that mean we're destined to have a fat kid? Because I don't have great exercise habits myself, will I care less about making sure my kid has an active lifestyle?
I think of my friend Gina and her daughter Chloe. Gina is petite in every way but I would never characterize her as "active". While she does enjoy some occasional snowboarding in winter and casual bike rides in the summer, she doesn't go to the gym or to yoga or anything like that. In fact, she eschews "working out" because it's not enjoyable to her. But yet, Chloe has been active in soccer and softball since she was about five years old, and at Gina's behest. Chloe likes those particular sports too, of course, otherwise Gina says she would find something else for Chloe to do. Chloe is now 13 and I've known her since she was four; Gina's got some years of parenting under her belt, and I plan to steal several of her methods (up to and including taking my kid to rock shows, Burning Man and various other events typically for adults that a kid could really enjoy). In the end, I don't know that parents manifesting the athleticism they'd like to see in their kids is what kids need to see in order to integrate being active into their own lives. I could be wrong, though.
On a different and last note, I have to say that the comments section of these types of online articles always really horrify me. There is a lot of judgement, and some outright hatred, for fat and fat people. It makes me wonder: what about being fat is so inexcusable?
11 January 2010
what comes next
I decided to get the title of this posting as a tattoo written across the underside of my left forearm. It will be always be there to remind me to think about what comes next. Or, to remind myself that I don't know what the hell comes next and that there is power in that.
Life has challenged me greatly in the past few months on this topic. For starters, there was the "intervention" by Yoga Trainer in early October. That did far less for me on a physical level than it did on a mental one, in case you're wondering. At the time I was envisioning that I was mere days away from finalizing a weight loss plan that would be perfect! and would work! and that I would be happy to do!, blah blah blah. All I have to say to myself three months later is, "Seriously?" It was far from a write-off or failure, though.
It got me thinking about the goals that I could set and achieve for myself, should I be ready and willing to do so. Admitting that I'm not necessarily ready or willing NOW was the hard part. Yoga Trainer has always been extremely pushy when it comes to my needing to set goals for myself. Having told him numerous times that I don't "do" goals, he decided to start setting them on my behalf. And, I always resignedly agreed to them, knowing that I'd walk out of the studio and likely not follow through. And, I'd return a week later and he'd ask me how my goal was going and I'd say "not so great" and he'd get irked and then spend the next $90 of my time trying to get me back on the path to righteousness. It took until mid-December, when YT turned his crosshairs on Honey Bunny instead of me, that I saw how he was setting us ALL up for failure. Yoga Trainer is a great guy and an incredible athlete, but I'm not sure he is as savvy in human relations as he thinks he is. (DUH. Look no further than how he said what he said to me in early October which in retrospect is kind of, well, fucked!)
We have actually not seen YT in awhile. Things got weird. Not only did my dysfunctional pattern with him come to light, his ego pushed Honey Bunny's to the point of literally walking out of a session. Yoga Trainer's three week vacation is now going on five weeks long, so I'm not sure if we are in mutual avoidance mode or what. I'm amenable to going back, but things need to change. I've been thinking a lot about what I need to say to him, and how to say it, and why.
Overall, Honey Bunny and I have had a rough winter together. It's a long and private story but I will say this: after three weeks of a perpetual battle to keep my head above water, there was a moment. I was so completely defeated by the situation and had done everything I could possibly think to do to right it. The next thing that popped into my head was, "I don't know what comes next," and I started to bawl. In telling my therapist about it after the fact, she said she felt that was a very profound moment for me, in which I needed to give up power and control and to be open to letting whatever needed to happen happen without my intervention. I think she's right. Within 10 minutes of admitting my powerlessness over the situation, it started to turn for the better. We're getting there. I don't have all the answers or solutions, which is the way it should be.
Part of our winter has included acclimating to new cats. They moved in in mid-October and it's been a hard adjustment period. We previously had a very mellow, very independent and aging kitty who was one of the loves of my life, and who passed away fairly suddenly in November 2008. My grief was so intense and daily after she died. I'd had 13 years of taking care of my beautiful cat and it was quite a process getting used to her not being there anymore. Every morning for a couple months I would wake up and think I'd hear her footsteps on the hardwood floors, coming to jump on the bed to snuggle with me... but she was no longer there. Just walking through the pet food aisle at the grocery store was torture, knowing I had no kitty to get food for. No feeding her. No scooping her box. No taking her to the backyard on weekends. But most importantly, no way to show love to a physical presence (although her spiritual presence is quite strong). I was so sad, angry, bitter, grief-stricken for so long. Until one day I realized that I no longer automatically looked for her in the morning, no longer cried after being around other people and their pets, and in fact, felt some relief when HB and I went on our annual summer vacation and I didn't have to get a cat sitter for the first time in 13 years. Not that I didn't miss her, because I did and I do and I probably always will. Because, for fuck's sake, grief is the ultimate "I don't know what comes next".
I grew accustomed to having some independence from my apartment and having to take care of another being, while at the same time feeling like something was missing from my life. Our friend's cat had kittens "accidentally" in July, and we asked if we could take two of them. I had such a mellow experience with my previous cat, why not have two... right? They grew up with their mom at home, and then moved in with us three months later.
They are the cutest little cats, playful and sweet and snuggly. One, or both, also has a peeing problem. At this point, all three chairs and the sofa in my living room have been peed on, as well as the bathtub, a small area rug, and almost every new toy they got for Christmas. Yes, the problem is medical for the most part, but there is a behavioral component to it that has to be tended to. I have been schooled by several vets on what to do and right now - and for an undetermined length of time - our bathtub has 2" of water in it, our living room reeks of vinegar (from treatments to get the pee out) and vinyl (vinyl carpet runners cut up to size/shape of the seating it's on, teeth side up), the bedroom is completely off limits, and they are contained in the back half of our apt while we are not at home and at bedtime. I literally don't know what comes next with them and the peeing and when they will be able to have free reign of the house again, if ever. On my worst days, it has propelled me into panic attacks and I have needed to consider finding a new home for one or both. On my best days, it's simply an adventure and a challenge. As long as I don't try to look too far forward and remember that there is no one hard and fast solution, I'm good. As long as I can remember the great and rewarding things about having cats, I'm good.
I will always wish I had that crystal ball to see what comes next and when. Instead, all I can do is take a deep breath and move forward and know that "what comes next" is only partially determined by me.
*****
UPDATE 1/12/10: Yoga Trainer called literally 10 minutes after I posted this and asked to talk in length about our relationship going forward. I don't think he's a reader, but who knows!
Life has challenged me greatly in the past few months on this topic. For starters, there was the "intervention" by Yoga Trainer in early October. That did far less for me on a physical level than it did on a mental one, in case you're wondering. At the time I was envisioning that I was mere days away from finalizing a weight loss plan that would be perfect! and would work! and that I would be happy to do!, blah blah blah. All I have to say to myself three months later is, "Seriously?" It was far from a write-off or failure, though.
It got me thinking about the goals that I could set and achieve for myself, should I be ready and willing to do so. Admitting that I'm not necessarily ready or willing NOW was the hard part. Yoga Trainer has always been extremely pushy when it comes to my needing to set goals for myself. Having told him numerous times that I don't "do" goals, he decided to start setting them on my behalf. And, I always resignedly agreed to them, knowing that I'd walk out of the studio and likely not follow through. And, I'd return a week later and he'd ask me how my goal was going and I'd say "not so great" and he'd get irked and then spend the next $90 of my time trying to get me back on the path to righteousness. It took until mid-December, when YT turned his crosshairs on Honey Bunny instead of me, that I saw how he was setting us ALL up for failure. Yoga Trainer is a great guy and an incredible athlete, but I'm not sure he is as savvy in human relations as he thinks he is. (DUH. Look no further than how he said what he said to me in early October which in retrospect is kind of, well, fucked!)
We have actually not seen YT in awhile. Things got weird. Not only did my dysfunctional pattern with him come to light, his ego pushed Honey Bunny's to the point of literally walking out of a session. Yoga Trainer's three week vacation is now going on five weeks long, so I'm not sure if we are in mutual avoidance mode or what. I'm amenable to going back, but things need to change. I've been thinking a lot about what I need to say to him, and how to say it, and why.
Overall, Honey Bunny and I have had a rough winter together. It's a long and private story but I will say this: after three weeks of a perpetual battle to keep my head above water, there was a moment. I was so completely defeated by the situation and had done everything I could possibly think to do to right it. The next thing that popped into my head was, "I don't know what comes next," and I started to bawl. In telling my therapist about it after the fact, she said she felt that was a very profound moment for me, in which I needed to give up power and control and to be open to letting whatever needed to happen happen without my intervention. I think she's right. Within 10 minutes of admitting my powerlessness over the situation, it started to turn for the better. We're getting there. I don't have all the answers or solutions, which is the way it should be.
Part of our winter has included acclimating to new cats. They moved in in mid-October and it's been a hard adjustment period. We previously had a very mellow, very independent and aging kitty who was one of the loves of my life, and who passed away fairly suddenly in November 2008. My grief was so intense and daily after she died. I'd had 13 years of taking care of my beautiful cat and it was quite a process getting used to her not being there anymore. Every morning for a couple months I would wake up and think I'd hear her footsteps on the hardwood floors, coming to jump on the bed to snuggle with me... but she was no longer there. Just walking through the pet food aisle at the grocery store was torture, knowing I had no kitty to get food for. No feeding her. No scooping her box. No taking her to the backyard on weekends. But most importantly, no way to show love to a physical presence (although her spiritual presence is quite strong). I was so sad, angry, bitter, grief-stricken for so long. Until one day I realized that I no longer automatically looked for her in the morning, no longer cried after being around other people and their pets, and in fact, felt some relief when HB and I went on our annual summer vacation and I didn't have to get a cat sitter for the first time in 13 years. Not that I didn't miss her, because I did and I do and I probably always will. Because, for fuck's sake, grief is the ultimate "I don't know what comes next".
I grew accustomed to having some independence from my apartment and having to take care of another being, while at the same time feeling like something was missing from my life. Our friend's cat had kittens "accidentally" in July, and we asked if we could take two of them. I had such a mellow experience with my previous cat, why not have two... right? They grew up with their mom at home, and then moved in with us three months later.
They are the cutest little cats, playful and sweet and snuggly. One, or both, also has a peeing problem. At this point, all three chairs and the sofa in my living room have been peed on, as well as the bathtub, a small area rug, and almost every new toy they got for Christmas. Yes, the problem is medical for the most part, but there is a behavioral component to it that has to be tended to. I have been schooled by several vets on what to do and right now - and for an undetermined length of time - our bathtub has 2" of water in it, our living room reeks of vinegar (from treatments to get the pee out) and vinyl (vinyl carpet runners cut up to size/shape of the seating it's on, teeth side up), the bedroom is completely off limits, and they are contained in the back half of our apt while we are not at home and at bedtime. I literally don't know what comes next with them and the peeing and when they will be able to have free reign of the house again, if ever. On my worst days, it has propelled me into panic attacks and I have needed to consider finding a new home for one or both. On my best days, it's simply an adventure and a challenge. As long as I don't try to look too far forward and remember that there is no one hard and fast solution, I'm good. As long as I can remember the great and rewarding things about having cats, I'm good.
I will always wish I had that crystal ball to see what comes next and when. Instead, all I can do is take a deep breath and move forward and know that "what comes next" is only partially determined by me.
*****
UPDATE 1/12/10: Yoga Trainer called literally 10 minutes after I posted this and asked to talk in length about our relationship going forward. I don't think he's a reader, but who knows!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)