Body Terrorism isn’t real?

Body terrorism isn’t real and no one wants fat people to kill themselves.

mobile.abc.net.au/news/2015-12…

Except, those 2 statements are ignorant and factually incorrect. When society tolerates large parts of itself plus the media shaming, hazing, discriminating against, and ridiculing overweight people, that society is hardly any more advanced than one that arrests women for not covering their hair. Fat people, women especially, are being terrorized all their lives and smugly expected to hate themselves. Sometimes this terrorism is thinly veiled in “health concerns” not shown in similar harassing fashions to smokers and other way less healthy people, meaning it’s really just a fib as nobody can possibly be sincerely concerned with a stranger’s weight-related health if not with a smoker’s or an alcoholic’s – plus, concern isn’t voiced by ridicule and unsolicited, demoralizing commentary.
Unlike Iranian women who uncover their hair, fat women in the West may not be legally prosecuted or punished, but they are beaten and bullied as children, and shamed and ridiculed as adults, if not personally, then by blanket fat hate, and little is done about it other than victim-blaming: “So just stop being fat” or, while kinda hard to convince an impressionable child it’s possible to be lovable when everyone is violently hating you, “Nobody ever gonna love you if you don’t love yourself”, which is nonsense, because you can love yourself all you want and still be brutalized and no child sets out hating herself – self-hate is conditioned, not inherent. I don’t know of any fat girl/child who hated herself for being fat before getting repeatedly and meticulously bullied for it. Plus, me hating myself entitles no one else to attack me in any form or fashion.

Fat hate, and (mostly women’s) fear of fatness, is a huge contributing factor to body image issues, eating disorders, and depression leading to suicide. But since the hate continues and is tolerated in school, in professional settings, while shopping, pretty much everywhere and accepted as a thing of daily life, there isn’t much a fat person can do other than suffer to lose weight in order to stop suffering from being dehumanized by society (and usually failing, while not owing anyone thinness to begin with and being an equal, worthy human being at 500 lbs as much as at 80). And failing that, many kill themselves, and nothing changes, meaning society accepts it. Just look at the internet’s response to suicides. Pretty thin girl: poor thing, so young, so pretty, why? Fat person? Lots of victim blaming and posthumous belittling and diminishing the cruelty the person suffered leading up to the suicide. Shouldn’t have been so fat then. Fatty got their giant butt hurt. If the fat person’s suicide gets any attention at all.

Hand these cards to people of color, disabled people, anorexic or mentally ill people, the world would be up in arms. But since it’s “just” fat people who have no right to respect and dignity, as confirmed by entertainment media who mostly cast us as a source of comic relief or villainy, we’ll just have to torture ourselves to lose weight in order to be treated like equal human beings, right?

#FatLivesMatter
#BodyTerrorism
#FatShaming
#London
#Society

Thanks, Doc.

Yesterday I went home from the doctor’s with a wide smile on my face and a feeling of accomplished world conquest in my chest. This doctor’s visit was well worth its 20 Shekels and the 30 minute walk because apparently, the practice was not “just next to the mall” after all.

I went to see endocrinologist Dr. B. because I was starting to suspect my thyroid to be behind my body’s refusal to shed those pounds. Thanks to radical self acceptance activists’ sites like The Militant Baker or The Body is not an Apology, and the realization that all women, no matter what their weight, are raised to feel some kind of insecurity, I had already not just made peace with, but learned to love my body. Which changed not only my perception of my body, but of everything around it, too.
But I still want to know why I had to miss out on everything for hating my body for so long. Just ,why. After all, a gastric bypass did nothing, atkins combined with extreme gym-hitting and daily hours of swimming did nothing, a month-long attempt at pro-ana did nothing, nothing did anything. I only lose weight when I’m not even trying to, and shoveling McDonald’s, Snickers, and coke for lack of time to cook. Yet my body has, for the last 12 years or more, kept returning to the same weight over and over. So, why?
After I’d ordered eltroxin off eBay to see how my thyroid responds, and finding that I lost a bit of weight and felt better overall, I took these findings and my questions to Dr. B. A doctor who is among the rare gems of doctors who don’t dump all of your health problems on your weight, or dismiss them to tell you to get skinny instead. Because that attitude is an atrocity. “Doc, I have mood swings and suicidal thoughts that terrify me.” – “Yeah but first, here’s a referral to a dietitian.”… “I can’t turn my neck without excrucia–” – “What have you tried in terms of weightloss?”… “Doctor, please check my pelvis and hormones, I’m just not getting pregnant.” – “Lose the weight and you will.”… “Doctor, I suffer from migraine and falling asleep uncontrollably.” – “Yes, and here’s the card of a dietitian so we can make you look a little more appetizing.” (the latter were the exact words of the school doctor, a woman no less, when I was 14, and I think her head needs to roll for crushing what little self-love is left in an insecure fat teenage girl, with her choice of words).

Dr. B however, took a good look at my blood work, my med history, and at me, and said: “Nope, your thyroid is normal.” After several questions, answers, and theories, Dr. B said what all those “I bash fatties because they’re unhealthy” people out there should let sink in deep:

“Though, look. I’ve seen your bloodwork and your medical history. I’m looking at you. You’re not at any risk, your stats are good. You are what’s called healthy obese. You don’t need to lose weight.”

Oh yes.

To Guy Nr. 5,000,000

No, you didn’t deeply hurt my delicate feelings. But you did strike a nerve. My “Come the fuck on, not that again”-nerve.

So on one dating site, the one where you can communicate without paying, I met a guy who seemed nice enough, also handsome, and apparently, interested. Contact died down for a few days, which was okay because I’m in the middle of a 1-girl-move where I’m mostly busy and exhausted hauling my possessions from one place to another by bus.
I do so in spite of there being some 30 extra kilos on my hips weighing me down. I do so in spite of having less stamina than fit (not: slim) people. I do so because I’ve always been pretty much on my own and learned not to rely on others too much. Now, as per social experiments conducted with consideration for the repeatability factor, had I been a slim, delicate-looking, petite little creature, passers-by would have volunteered to help every step of the way as they saw me with a table in my hands, a backpack on my back, and a shopping cart strapped over my shoulder. But I’m fat. So somehow, according to the public’s strange attitude, I don’t qualify for help. Finally, the neighbor’s gentleman kid offered to take my trolley up the stairs, but I could do that last bit on my own. Too.

Now this guy, after a few days of radio silence, writes back. I’m thinking I’m gonna propose a date that somehow includes my possessions in his car/on his back. Well, long story short, no. I think he wants to sell me Herbalife. And the next criminal trying to leech money off me with that disgusting poison, I swear to God, I will make them watch while I barbecue their children and eat them while they’re still screaming. Because I like to eat quality food. I am a foodie. A gourmet. I don’t eat much, but when I do, it needs to rock.
He basically tells me that he had not paid much attention to what I had entered in the basic info of my profile: I’m full-figured. So now it came to his attention, and he decided to bring it to mine. Because I care so much that he is put off by my being fat. Oh wait, I don’t. What I do care about, is that this is a symptom of the cancer in our societies. We are brainwashed into thinking that “fat” is the worst a woman can be. An ugly face? Fine. A stupid, loud mouth? Fine. Unfaithful? Fine. A gold-digging whore who marries so she doesn’t have to earn her own money? Fine. Fat? “Now listen, I would like you if…”.

Because, now he tells me that if I lost some weight, I’d look a lot better. And I’m sure that’s true. But (1), I’m fine. But (2), then he’s like, “You can easily…”. No. I can not “easily”, I tried, and under doctors’ supervision did everything right, and still only lost 10% of what other people lost on the same programs (plural), so shut the fuck up. If everyone “could easily” lose weight, I doubt a whole lot of people would choose to stay fat and get so much hate and disrespect from society. It’s like being gay. The proof that being gay isn’t a choice, lies in the fact that nobody in their right mind would choose to be gay in such a hateful, homophobic environment.

First of all, while not very photogenic, I look good enough. I have what’s called an hour-glass shape, and let’s not get started on my face. But it doesn’t even matter. Because this body, is mine. Even if I got married and had children, it’d still be mine. I don’t owe anyone to look a way they like, not even my husband. Which this guy, just like the 4,999,999 others telling me to lose weight, is not.  I don’t buy that beauty/ugliness is on the inside. I do know looks matter. However, there is no one right way to look. I have seen many fat girls who looked better than many slim girls, and vice-versa. One person likes this, the other person likes that. This is what made me realize, when it comes to apearance, it’s okay to be fat and even a little insecure about it – because most girls are insecure to an extent. Even the prettiest model will pull the sheets over herself in the presence of the guy she just had sex with. We are taught insecurity. We are taught to obsess about our looks, and guys are taught to pick a woman by how presentable she looks to his dumb friends. Because men, too, are taught insecurity: “Is my girlfriend hot enough, or will the bros tease me?”. Who cares as long as you enjoy boning her? I know my weight is one factor in why I’m still single. On the other hand, it is by far not the only one. I’ve seen women, fatter than myself, getting married to handsome, smart, “quality” men.

I have been hit on by many men who are shorter than me, or bald. These are two things I simply am not attracted to at all. And that’s just as okay as someone not being attracted to fat chicks. However, it would never, ever, occur to me to tell them: “Yeah, I’ll give you a try, but only if you get leg extension surgery/hair implants”. Unless they dare tell me do something about the weight.
Because let’s face it. Men complaining that I’m fat, aren’t worried about my health, but about how my appearance graces them. And actually, the leg extension or the implants may just be less tortorous than losing a significant amount of weight. All you have to do, is lie down with the doctor and pay. then recover, and you’re all set. Weightloss is so much more difficult, and so much less pleasant. Weightloss is suffering. It’s exhausting, it’s depriving, it’s no fun to be obsessing all day about the question: if I do this or eat that, how will this affect my ass? It’s an oxymoron. They tell you to be slim in order to be happy, but how does obsessing and depriving and exhausting yourself over your weight, make you happy?

Hence, no. I will not give that bald dude or that short guy a chance, because he, just like I, deserves to be accepted the way he is, or left alone to remain free to find a true match, not a “Painfully change what you’ve been all your life until I came along and didn’t like it”-match. I will tell him I’m not interested, if I tell him anything, and let him move on. This is the only right way to handle someone whose exterior doesn’t appeal to you. For clarity: telling someone to change, is the wrong way. I am healthy, I am beautiful, I get laid, and I refuse to sacrifice any more of my precious life to suffering from one desperate weightloss attempt to another.
This guy used the term “ideal weight”. What is that? Who determines that? Mr. BMI? I’m sorry, I thought a person should have more authority than a math scheme. My life will not be controlled by numbers, not the numbers the BMI-God throws at me, not the numbers I see when I step on the scale, and not the numbers of inches a man is shorter than me, because I care about none of them. I did for most of my life, and I realize now, painfully, how much I missed out, not by being fat, but by behaving the way society tells fat people to behave: “hide, and don’t have fun because a fat chick dancing isn’t a pretty sight”. I have near-literally tried everything. Restrictive diets, pro-ana diets, diet products, the Herbalife scam, diet pills, hours of exercise and swimming, the adjustable gastric band (which helped me lose 50 kilos, then the weight stagnated on the same mark give or take 15 kilos exactly, strangely), and then, the biggest mistake of them all, the gastric bypass. And when I think about it, I already eat less, and healthier, than many of my slimmer friends. It’s probably not a nutrition issue at all. So stop preaching at me that I could “easily lose” a few more pounds. I can not. And if I could, I would still not suffer to do so. I’ll be happy to lose some weight through activities I enjoy, but will I force myself to skip that dessert or to walk myself dizzy on that treadmill? Hell no. I am done suffering, and he who wants me to suffer so I’m more pleasing to look at to others, does not love me and has as little a place in my life as his opinion has worth. My life has been about suffering and trying twice as hard to get half as much, for too long. No more.

Honestly? Fuck every last one of you, no matter who you are. I’m sure you’re good people with good intentions, but shut up. If my big butt means more to you than any of my other qualities and flaws – and I have “bigger” flaws than my ass if you were to look past that – then I guess I – *I* – mean less to you than my weight does. And that is not a relationship I wish to entertain. I’m fat. I will probably always be fat. And that is okay. My weight is one of many things that partially define me. My weight is not the main, nor the only thing, that defines me. Just as your lack of a chin, your receding hairline, or your short penis, doesn’t define you.

Here’s how to handle a potential date whose appearance has a flaw: take it or leave it.

Image

No more.

Nobody should get to body-shame. Nobody gets to decree what a correct body is. Nobody gets to tell someone that they are abusing or disrespecting themselves just for not obsessing over fitness and being slim. And you know what? I’m not buying “concern” when it’s in the form of hating, bullying, and shaming! And even if there are health concerns? NONE OF ANYONE’S BUSINESS.

Certainly no reason to be mean.

And fitness supplements tend to be unhealthy, too. There are healthy obese people; I am one of them.
Fit women do not need to glorify themselves by putting down others. If they can’t shine without throwing shade on fat women, that says more about them than it does about us. I sure don’t go around shaming fit or slim women; I intend to live and let live – and demand to BE let live.

There’s something “subtly” hateful about those motivation pictures of “before and after” budybuilding women. The pictures tell you to stop looking one way (fat), and start looking the other (toned), and not to make excuses.

So you need an excuse to feel comfortable in your current body? Who are those “motivation” people to tell you what body to feel good in? I have believed it for so long, I believed they were right and the way I looked was incorrect, and that I “owed” it to myself to feel shitty about being fat. Why does a healthy overweight person need to make excuses or feel compelled to “get toned” in the first place? Even if they’re not healthy, it’s none of anybody’s business – plus, fit people get sick, too. Who’s to say that “firm and toned” is correct, and “fat and soft” isn’t? Doctors? Well, doctors will tell you that health is not just an issue of size and that some fat is actually healthy. Much unlike a lot of fitness supplements that can literally eat holes into your brain. I mean, what makes you think you should, daily, consume something that says “Do not use if you’re pregnant, nursing, old, young, fast heartrate, slow heartrate, epileptic, etc.”? Does that sound better than a burger? Really?
Why am I even made to feel like I need an excuse? Why can’t I just be the way I am without feeling guilty or embarassed or like I’m not treating myself right? And even if I were mistreating myself, how does that entitle others to diss me?

Why are people trying to tell me to feel guilty about not doing much about my weight? It’s not like I’m not trying at all, but I refuse to obsess over it anymore. And my only issue is the cellulite anyway. Otherwise, I’m quite okay being big. Why are women told to obsess about their appearance and feel bad when they don’t fit such and such ideal? Why do we have to feel like we deserve the hate we’re getting? Who are we hurting or offending by being big or soft? Nobody is telling ugly-faced women to get a nose job, nobody is telling small-breasted women to get a boob job, nobody is telling short women to have leg extension surgery and God forbid anyone were to tell a woman with kinky hair to straighten it. I mean, it is all well-marketed industries, but not as aggressive and omnipresent – and hateful – as the weight issue. You don’t see accusing and holier-than-thou pictures with the caption “What is your excuse” depicting a woman before and after facelift. Oh, so working out is more honest/healthy/real than surgery? Sure, especially with all those supplements…. And why do methods matter anyway? I don’t feel guilty about having had multiple procedures done. Why should I? Worked for me, all the belly went POOF in a matter of hours.

I’m fat and I’m healthy, and the only reason I’m not “fat and happy”, is because all the hate I get for being fat while I can’t remember having done anything to deserve it. Fat hate will be justified the day that “receding hairline” hate, “ugly nose” hate, “pudgy fingers” hate, “kinky hair” hate, or “short teeth” hate is justified. But you don’t see anyone hating that to this degree. Oh, so fat isn’t natural but big foreheads are? Well how about this: some are naturally predisposed to be heavier. And supplements are natural? Shaming people on Facebook is natural? Coloring your hair is natural? To hell with the natural argument, it’s invalid, nobody honestly cares about nature or health when dissing the appearance of others. It’s not about that, it’s 95% “look at me being all superior compared to those fatties and uglies” and an attempt to make it sound educated.

So screw this “What is your excuse” BS. Wanna know my excuse? Because eating a bag of chips at the movies is more fun than being a bunch of shallow douchebags’ reason to touch themselves.

What Fat Girls Do

Fat women, in the media, are portrayed as concerned with eating all the time. They eat an entire cake and order fishsticks for dessert. They don’t know they’re fat, so they make fools of themselves. They’re also usually stupid and serve as a sidekick to make their good-looking friend look nice and gracious for hanging out with fatties.

It’s true that food is on my mind a lot. Having a gastric bypass, I have to weigh (pun not intended) each intake of food carefully, so I have to think what to eat and what it’ll do to my stomach in the short run, and to my weight in the long run. Since my stomach is very energy-consuming and impacts my mood and general well-being, I have no choice but to think about food very thoroughly and carefully.
But I don’t think “What am I gonna eat next?”. Contrary to popular belief, fat people aren’t always hungry.

I get up in the morning to turn on the computer and work. Breakfast usually consists of fried eggs, carrots, and mushrooms. I work from home, not because I’m too fat to leave the house, but because I signed up with this company believing from-home work would be paradise, and for a while, it was: I could work on my laptop out of coffee shops, I could randomly adopt a dog and integrate it into the family for being home all the time, I could finish my daily quota ahead of time and have fun with friends or on my own while leaving the clock running and making money. It’s a job that requires language skills beyond one’s own mother tongue, and some writing skills. American students are meant to read my abstracts and not notice that an Israeli German wrote them. I make 45 Shekels per hour. Not great, but better than dumpster diving, right?

At some point, when I feel I’ve worked enough to take a break, I’ll take a shower and walk the dog.

When it comes to fat people being stupid, I have no idea where that stereotype comes from. It may not be wise to make yourself fat, but there are circumstances where you cannot really blame the person for getting fat. I’m smarter than a lot of people I know, though I admit I don’t do much with it.

I go to the mall, grocery shopping, or to the movies, I go to clubs and I date, or I take myself out to the beach for a lemon mint. On special occasions, I go to wars and riots – Israel has enough of those to go around – to take pictures and socialize with combatants/riot police. I love playing dodge ball with spooked weaponized horses.

When my wallet allows it, I make donations to our soldiers or other good causes.

When I’m bored, I draw, sometimes I write. I browse funnies and lulz and I torrent massively, which I can admit to because personal piracy is legal in Israel. I go to the flea market, I take long walks, I haggle with merchants, I flirt with hot stuff, I pick up after my dog. I clean up after myself and my pets all the time.

In the evenings, I have diner in front of the TV, try to wash some dishes, and mourn love lost. I fantasize about people and dreams and come up with what to draw next. I skype with my mom. In bed, I try to read as much as possible.

Basically, I’m like everyone else.

Diet Experience: Slimming Drops

In 2007, in my desperation, I let myself fall for one of those miracle cures. This one is simply called Slimming Drops and seems to be a (primarily?) Dutch product. It cost a crapload of money and tasted disgusting even diluted in water. It’s supposed to stimulate energy loss/fat burning and digestion, among other things. I lost no weight. On the contrary; to get the vile taste out of your mouth, you have to eat something fatty because fat is a flavor enhancer….

This is their website: http://www.slimmingdrops.nl/

Fellgood Bullcrap

I recently read this phrase a lot on Facebook:

“I’m not fat. When he created me, God just liked me so much that he decided to enlarge me.”

Right. At first glance, that sounds sweet and comforting. Then again, if God really loves me, why doesn’t he design me in a way that makes me desirable and keeps me from getting bullied, overlooked, sneered and scoffed on, and hated on by society and media?