No one wants to be fat. Not really. Some people have the confidence to own it and still be fabulous, but most of us struggle. How can we not? We are constantly bombarded with the notion that obesity can kill, that being overweight reduces the quality of life, that fat people aren't aesthetically pleasing or sexy. In a world of size 0, size 14 and up have no chance.
It's not just the images that bombard us on magazine covers and television. It's not the fact that a fat person either is the "funny" one or the one who is publicly ridiculed and mocked. It's the fact that any celebrity, usually a woman, who is a size 12 or up, who could be a role model for an alternate body image, who has the ability to create a more balanced aesthetic, has jumped ship. They sponsor a weight loss program and shout to the world how great it is. Let's ignore the fact that they have a team of chefs, personal trainers, and plastic surgeons on staff. Let's ignore that they have the time, money and luxury to reinvent themselves. Just look how fantastic they look now that they're "normal". And the not so sub text? You can be normal too, not a pathetic, unattractive, FAT loser. Cha ching.
Fat is the new leprosy.
I sometimes see that horrified look in people's eyes. "How can you do that to yourself?" their disgusted ogle states. "Stop eating so much. (They haven't seen me put a morsel of food in my mouth.) Did you eat a small starving nation to get like that?"
Fat jokes abound. There are even terms for fat chicks who go out with their better looking (read: thinner) friends. She's called a "grenade". Absolutely lovely. That pretty much ensures that women above a certain weight would need Herculean bravery to go out. They don't want to anyway. No. They want to stay home, alone, eating creme puffs and watching TV. Or. They can always try those big and beautiful sites trolled by men who like big women. Fat has become a fetish.
"So, if you hate it so much;" asks the person who has never struggled with the esteem-destroying condition, "why don't you just lose weight? Stop eating. Get on a treadmill."
The sympathy abounds. People with anorexia get concern. People who are fat get contempt.
Here's the thing, the issue isn't food. Food contributes to the problem, but it's just a symptom. Sure, this can be rectified with a decreased intake of calories and an increased expenditure of the same. It's not rocket science. The problem goes beyond the surface that everyone is so occupied with. It's psychological.
When I lost 100 pounds, I didn't' change my diet at all. My attitude towards food changed. It became a means to an end - satiating hunger - not an end in itself. I enjoyed my meals, just as I enjoy a cool glass of water when I'm thirsty. I also walked about 20 minutes to and from work. That's it. No diet plan. No gym membership. No supplements or teas or other gimmicks. I was living life as unfettered from emotional trauma as I have ever had. It was the first time in my life, I felt like me. And the true me emerged.
What caused me to gain weight again, was new emotional trauma; but I'll get to that in another post.
The vital juncture in one's life to having and maintaining a "healthy body weight" is early on. If a child gains too much weight at a crucial time in her life, during or just before the onset of puberty, that equates to an increase in fat cells. You can reduce the size of fat cells, but you can't get rid of them. So, the struggle to keep those damn, rotund jailers at bay becomes a lifetime struggle.
It's vitally important for parents to make sure that their children and tweens learn a balanced attitude toward food and physical activity. I'm not advocating to go all commando parent and restrict everything. I'm talking about a balance between healthy eating and the occasional treat, a line between sedentary activities and ones that require physical movement.
Teaching a child to love themselves is one of the most important things a parent can give her.
The problem often lies with the fact that the adults in obese children's lives also have an unbalanced attitude toward food. It's highly likely that a child of obese parents will in turn become obese. Once the child becomes obese, even in a nation where obesity is the rule not the exception, the psychological trauma begins. The name calling. The ugly clothing. The being singled out. The false assumptions. If you add any kind of psychological, physical or sexual abuse to the mix, then it becomes a catastrophic condition.
It would be nice if we lived in a world that celebrated all sizes. It would be nice if the medical profession hadn't sold out so completely to the pharmaceutical. It would be great if profits weren't attached to people's physical or psychological well being. It would be nice if everyone had a beautiful home and their needs met. That's a fantasy. The reality of the situation is far from it.
What I would settle for, is maybe being allowed to exist without being judged within an inch of my life as I struggle with the issues that have smothered me in layers. But I know, there's a fat chance of that happening.
2011-02-20
2011-02-17
Eternal Spring
A lot of thought goes into understanding what brings happiness and contentment, how to survive depression, what one's place in the grand scheme of things is. If there is such a thing as a grand scheme.
We are constantly bombarded with images of the perfect relationship, the perfect family, the perfect home, the perfect career. The fictional story line has a definite, and often predictable, beginning, middle and end. There's a reason most stories don't narrate long periods of time in front of the TV, or deciding what to make for dinner, or just sitting and staring out the window. Where's the pathos in making a cup of tea and drinking it?
Our story's climax or turning point doesn't come within a two hour allocation. There is no hot soundtrack to accompany our every realization and encounter. And sometimes, when a turning point does come, it can go unnoticed until years later.
So what's the answer? Living life according to some nebulous preconception or coming to terms with a life that can often be riddled with mind-numbing routine and exhaustion? Well, I say there's a third choice. Somewhere in the crawl space between expectation and actuality, there's balance. We need dreams. They serve a very real function. There's nothing wrong with wanting it all and loving exactly what we have. Dreams are the fuel of action. As long as there is action. Sitting in a room dreaming can be fun, but it's not very practical if that's all it is. Idle speculation is a pretty but not very productive pastime.
There are times that I am overwhelmed with the day-to-day. Moments that I feel like I haven't achieved anything; my life hasn't followed the path that I would have liked it to. And in those moments, the bold face of change pops up and beckons me. "It's up to you to make a life that you want. It won't arrive gift wrapped at your door."
I nod at its wisdom, but making changes can be scary. Petrifying in fact.
I admire those who can reinvent themselves and their lives. Is it so difficult to do? After all, I have always been told that where there's a will, there's a way.
I see myself on a beach, healthy and smiling. I see myself spending my days creating in the company of others who love to create, unfettered by institutions, their timetables and agendas. But is this a romantic notion or a real possibility? Can I shed the extreme temperatures of cold and hot, exchanging it for what I know I love best. Temperate weather. Can I live in eternal spring?
We are constantly bombarded with images of the perfect relationship, the perfect family, the perfect home, the perfect career. The fictional story line has a definite, and often predictable, beginning, middle and end. There's a reason most stories don't narrate long periods of time in front of the TV, or deciding what to make for dinner, or just sitting and staring out the window. Where's the pathos in making a cup of tea and drinking it?
Our story's climax or turning point doesn't come within a two hour allocation. There is no hot soundtrack to accompany our every realization and encounter. And sometimes, when a turning point does come, it can go unnoticed until years later.
So what's the answer? Living life according to some nebulous preconception or coming to terms with a life that can often be riddled with mind-numbing routine and exhaustion? Well, I say there's a third choice. Somewhere in the crawl space between expectation and actuality, there's balance. We need dreams. They serve a very real function. There's nothing wrong with wanting it all and loving exactly what we have. Dreams are the fuel of action. As long as there is action. Sitting in a room dreaming can be fun, but it's not very practical if that's all it is. Idle speculation is a pretty but not very productive pastime.
There are times that I am overwhelmed with the day-to-day. Moments that I feel like I haven't achieved anything; my life hasn't followed the path that I would have liked it to. And in those moments, the bold face of change pops up and beckons me. "It's up to you to make a life that you want. It won't arrive gift wrapped at your door."
I nod at its wisdom, but making changes can be scary. Petrifying in fact.
I admire those who can reinvent themselves and their lives. Is it so difficult to do? After all, I have always been told that where there's a will, there's a way.
I see myself on a beach, healthy and smiling. I see myself spending my days creating in the company of others who love to create, unfettered by institutions, their timetables and agendas. But is this a romantic notion or a real possibility? Can I shed the extreme temperatures of cold and hot, exchanging it for what I know I love best. Temperate weather. Can I live in eternal spring?
2011-02-10
The Winter of My Discontent
This winter, I have been transported to a wintry tundra. Outside my windows, I see mounds of hardened snow everywhere. Yards are buried. Houses are cocooned. Cars are perched precariously on floes of snow and ice. People are bundled within an inch of their lives.
And I'm at home thinking. Thinking that I'm done with solitude. Though I enjoy my own company, I would like to live in someone else's. Hermetic life is indeed uncomplicated. I don't have to check with anyone what he wants for dinner or what they want to watch on TV. I can come home, take a shower, get into fresh, cotton jams and do some surfing while eating a bowl of soup, or watch my favorite trash TV and a chow down on a salad. Or, if I feel like it, I can wear something silky, make a nice meal, have a glass of wine and get lost in a good book. Better yet, if the mood strikes me, I can blast some music and bust some dance moves.
It sounds ideal to those who are surrounded by others 24/7, but sometimes, the silence echoes with; "Surely this isn't it? Surely there's more to life than this?" I want to prepare a meal with someone, for someone, and wear something other than pajamas at night. I want to have a conversation about some silliness in the news or the nutty events that happened during the day. I want to hear myself laugh out loud.
Make no mistake, I do socialize with friends, but it's not the same. I can fill my nights with plans no problem, and it will take the edge off the solitude, but it won't change the day to day reality. When I come home, my cat will greet me; and though I love my four legged son, he can't fill the human need for intimate companionship. Holding hands, sharing a smile, discussing politics.
It makes no sense to want one thing and actively do nothing about it. I can't find someone or be found if I' m hiding away... The truth is I'm stumped as to what to do. It's not like you can grab a rod and some bait and find someone. Well, not someone lasting. I've tried online dating, bars, meet up groups, etc. It's resulted in a feeling of deflation. I want to kick whoever came up with the adage: there's someone for everyone. Good luck finding him, should be added to that.
Sometimes I like to watch television as a backdrop to my thoughts. Oddly, on occasion, the characters on a show mirror my thoughts. "You can't make any friends," a TV mother counsels her son, " if you don't go anywhere. You got to get out there and meet people." Wise words, that startle me into thinking she's talking to me. Of course, the problem is that wise words or not, it's a fictional situation. The son doesn't go anywhere but a kid who just moved in to the apartment downstairs pops up on the fire escape and they become friends. Way to contradict yourself person who's writing these things!
So I'm making a Valentine's resolution. I will make red paper hearts, write messages of love on them and scatter them around the city. It's not a practical or efficient way of finding love, but it's a great way of spreading some of it. And who knows, maybe someone great will pop up on my metaphorical fire escape. :)
And I'm at home thinking. Thinking that I'm done with solitude. Though I enjoy my own company, I would like to live in someone else's. Hermetic life is indeed uncomplicated. I don't have to check with anyone what he wants for dinner or what they want to watch on TV. I can come home, take a shower, get into fresh, cotton jams and do some surfing while eating a bowl of soup, or watch my favorite trash TV and a chow down on a salad. Or, if I feel like it, I can wear something silky, make a nice meal, have a glass of wine and get lost in a good book. Better yet, if the mood strikes me, I can blast some music and bust some dance moves.
It sounds ideal to those who are surrounded by others 24/7, but sometimes, the silence echoes with; "Surely this isn't it? Surely there's more to life than this?" I want to prepare a meal with someone, for someone, and wear something other than pajamas at night. I want to have a conversation about some silliness in the news or the nutty events that happened during the day. I want to hear myself laugh out loud.
Make no mistake, I do socialize with friends, but it's not the same. I can fill my nights with plans no problem, and it will take the edge off the solitude, but it won't change the day to day reality. When I come home, my cat will greet me; and though I love my four legged son, he can't fill the human need for intimate companionship. Holding hands, sharing a smile, discussing politics.
It makes no sense to want one thing and actively do nothing about it. I can't find someone or be found if I' m hiding away... The truth is I'm stumped as to what to do. It's not like you can grab a rod and some bait and find someone. Well, not someone lasting. I've tried online dating, bars, meet up groups, etc. It's resulted in a feeling of deflation. I want to kick whoever came up with the adage: there's someone for everyone. Good luck finding him, should be added to that.
Sometimes I like to watch television as a backdrop to my thoughts. Oddly, on occasion, the characters on a show mirror my thoughts. "You can't make any friends," a TV mother counsels her son, " if you don't go anywhere. You got to get out there and meet people." Wise words, that startle me into thinking she's talking to me. Of course, the problem is that wise words or not, it's a fictional situation. The son doesn't go anywhere but a kid who just moved in to the apartment downstairs pops up on the fire escape and they become friends. Way to contradict yourself person who's writing these things!
So I'm making a Valentine's resolution. I will make red paper hearts, write messages of love on them and scatter them around the city. It's not a practical or efficient way of finding love, but it's a great way of spreading some of it. And who knows, maybe someone great will pop up on my metaphorical fire escape. :)
2011-02-04
News Schnews
A while ago, I made the conscious decision to stop watching the news. Between the graphic scenes of post-violence, the sensational commentary, and the induced hypochondria, I had had enough. I can easily stay informed about the sad state of affairs without subjecting myself to that. It's not so much the ostrich effect, because I'm not in denial about the horrific nature of humanity's underbelly. Wars are raging and taking lives; politicians are scrambling to justify their office; harm is being done to young ones; unsuspecting people are gunned down; coffee is bad for you one day and good the other; storms become "stormgates".
Other than trying to spread some hope, donate some money or food, give up some time to help others locally, there is nothing I can do. Putting myself through the distress of watching the news translate misfortune into ratings, isn't helping anyone.
The same goes with the morning programs. I used to watch religiously, until I realized that I really didn't need to know about Deena's shoes or Kevin's bout with the stomach flu or Frankie's wedding to get my day started. What passes as "news" is mostly opinion and triviality. I have enough of that in my real life.
Case in point, the other day, as I was marking papers, I had the TV on as background noise, to help drown out the screaming in my head about what I was reading. I wasn't really paying attention to what was happening, and a promotional news segment reared its ugly head. In the midst of the tormented question why students can't write a simple paragraph, I hear "Insomnia is one of the leading causes of health issues. Not getting enough sleep can irreparably affect your body."
Great! That's exactly the reassurance that any insomniac needs to hear to help him/her get a good night's sleep. There's nothing like the threat of imminent bodily harm to someone who is already struggling to get some shut eye.
First of all, even if there is a study out there, the limitations and validity of which is sketchy at best, that actually proves this as medical fact, how reprehensible and irresponsible is it to broadcast it as a tidbit of information? Insomnia is no laughing matter. It bespeaks issues that one has to manage often with the help of a professional practitioner, not Billy Boob Butthead reading it on a screen.
Second of all, how dare they sneak that information in between a soap commercial and one for diamond rings (Valentine's is coming up)? Ratings and generation of funds to pay the overinflated salaries of television personalities have totally eliminated ethical practices. I get that television's one mandate is to generate capital through commercial placement. I get that the "medical" profession is being taken over by pharmaceutical partisanship. I get all that. What I don't get is why they need to keep the public in a constant state of worry.
I don't get enough sleep, apparently. My sleep cycle is shot all to hell, and that's my problem that I have to work out. The reasons and scope of my disturbed sleep are what I need to deal with. It's hard to function around 2 pm when my body is aching for a nap, and I have to relay the importance of a semi-colon. I know I need help. What won't help me deal with all this is some news producer deciding it's a good idea to throw some hypochondriac panic into the mix.
That'll teach me to turn on the TV for company.
Other than trying to spread some hope, donate some money or food, give up some time to help others locally, there is nothing I can do. Putting myself through the distress of watching the news translate misfortune into ratings, isn't helping anyone.
The same goes with the morning programs. I used to watch religiously, until I realized that I really didn't need to know about Deena's shoes or Kevin's bout with the stomach flu or Frankie's wedding to get my day started. What passes as "news" is mostly opinion and triviality. I have enough of that in my real life.
Case in point, the other day, as I was marking papers, I had the TV on as background noise, to help drown out the screaming in my head about what I was reading. I wasn't really paying attention to what was happening, and a promotional news segment reared its ugly head. In the midst of the tormented question why students can't write a simple paragraph, I hear "Insomnia is one of the leading causes of health issues. Not getting enough sleep can irreparably affect your body."
Great! That's exactly the reassurance that any insomniac needs to hear to help him/her get a good night's sleep. There's nothing like the threat of imminent bodily harm to someone who is already struggling to get some shut eye.
First of all, even if there is a study out there, the limitations and validity of which is sketchy at best, that actually proves this as medical fact, how reprehensible and irresponsible is it to broadcast it as a tidbit of information? Insomnia is no laughing matter. It bespeaks issues that one has to manage often with the help of a professional practitioner, not Billy Boob Butthead reading it on a screen.
Second of all, how dare they sneak that information in between a soap commercial and one for diamond rings (Valentine's is coming up)? Ratings and generation of funds to pay the overinflated salaries of television personalities have totally eliminated ethical practices. I get that television's one mandate is to generate capital through commercial placement. I get that the "medical" profession is being taken over by pharmaceutical partisanship. I get all that. What I don't get is why they need to keep the public in a constant state of worry.
I don't get enough sleep, apparently. My sleep cycle is shot all to hell, and that's my problem that I have to work out. The reasons and scope of my disturbed sleep are what I need to deal with. It's hard to function around 2 pm when my body is aching for a nap, and I have to relay the importance of a semi-colon. I know I need help. What won't help me deal with all this is some news producer deciding it's a good idea to throw some hypochondriac panic into the mix.
That'll teach me to turn on the TV for company.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)