The Right Angle

I have a new dress.  I like my new dress.  It's a very pretty dress.  Except from behind.  Or a slight profile.  Or if I'm slouching.  Ah hell, let's just call a spade a spade.  The dress is very pretty. It's me that's ruining the aesthetic.

There is a constant monologue running through my head, no matter what I'm wearing.  I get dressed in the morning just like everyone else on the planet, but then I have to take an extra 20 minutes or so (some days more 'or so' than others) to examine myself in the mirror from every conceivable angle.  Then I make a mental list of things like 'don't hunch or your back fat looks gross', 'turn a little to the right when facing people so they don't see as much cleavage', and/or 'make sure to pull the front of your tunic down regularly throughout the day or else the back will look way longer than the front and that's just weird'.  Many of you might be starting to think I'm just little bit OCD off the deep end.  For those of you that read the previous statements and said 'I know, right?!?!?! then congratulations.  You're living life in the fat lane.

I really, really hope there are others out there that have the same pre-'leaving the house' ritual that I do.  I'm typically a VERY punctual person.  I'm punctual to the point of actually having been born on my exact due date.  I hate to keep people waiting. So if you're expecting me at a certain time, and I message you that I'm running late, it's probably because I can't get my right calf to be as skinny in a certain pair of jeans as my left calf.  Or maybe it's because I spent an hour doing my hair and it looks so shiny and bouncy, but for some reason it's enhancing my double chin so I have to figure out how to have bouncy hair AND a thinner neck both at the same time.  The struggle is real, people.

NBC has a new show out this fall called This Is Us that's giving me hope that I'm not alone in all this.  If you haven't seen the first 2 episodes, get your butt online or On Demand and catch up.  It's freaking amazing.  I won't go into all the characters; I just want to focus on two of them, Kate and Toby.  Kate and Toby meet at a support group for what I've decided to call Fat Lane-ers (my words, not NBC's).  Toby hits on Kate but she turns him down saying that she can't get involved with someone overweight.  Toby says 'I guess I'll just have to lose the weight.'  He wins her over and they start dating. In last week's episode Toby convinces Kate to go to a Hollywood party.  There's a pivotal scene where Kate looks around and sees everyone around her laughing.  To the rest of the world all those people are talking and laughing and enjoying a party. To Kate they're laughing at her and joking about how many tarps it must have taken to make a dress her size. I know this because it's exactly how I feel in any number of my very pretty dresses.

Chrissy Metz is the actress that plays Kate.  She's just playing a part, but she's still a woman.  And she's still a Fat Lane-er.  I'm imagining her standing in front of a mirror in her dressing room turning herself left, right, over-the-shoulder, shoulders back but not too far back when she hears a knock at the door and the words, 'Five minutes, Ms. Metz.'  And then she knows she has to go out there and be Kate.  That's gotta be hard to do.  I can't imagine being the fat chick on national television.  Hell, I won't even take selfies with my dearest friends.  I stand in awe of Chrissy's bravery and fortitude.  She's playing a part, but that part represents the third of all American women who are considered obese, myself included.  She gives us a name, a heart, a soul.  She creates a space for all of us to exist.

So, in honor of Chrissy Metz, I will wear my pretty dress.  And I will adore my pretty dress.  I will not worry about my back fat, or my cleavage, or whether or not all of my fat has been properly lashed down under my Spanx.  No.  I will walk confidently.  I will feel the lace swish across my legs.  I will feel feminine.  I will feel proud.  And I will thank Chrissy Metz for having the courage to do the same.

Snake Oil and Desperation

Greetings, friends.  This is another one of those topics that I've gone back and forth on.  Do I keep quiet about this subject to protect my dignity, or do I open yet another drawer in my closet labeled 'Horribly Embarrassing'.  In the end, I AM attempting to help others and write for the greater good, so I guess 'embarrassing' it is.

The picture above shows SOME of the diet pills and vitamins I've used over the past 6 years in a vain attempt to lose weight.  SOME, not all.  These are the ones I haven't already consumed or thrown away.  There's easily a couple grand invested in that box.

I can hear some of you now. You think I'm stupid, gullible, lazy, and/or looking for a quick fix. And to a certain extent you'd be right.  But I think the adjective most of you skipped over, the word that never occurred to you, is 'desperate'. Desperate to lose weight. Desperate to be accepted. Desperate not to die at a young age.

The common consensus of the public, be it TV, radio, internet, or other media platform, is that if fat people don't want to be fat, they should just stop being fat.  To the "normals" it's just that easy.  Wake up, say you don't want to be fat anymore, problem solved. We don't take that approach to those suffering from other addictions.  That's why heroin addicts go to rehab instead of just saying 'I don't want to use heroin anymore'. Not only is that a ridiculous suggestion in both circumstances, but there is a big difference between food and other addictions. You can live without heroin, you can't live without food.  Maybe you can in the short term, but it's not a viable 5-year plan.

Losing weight is a battle. Keeping it off is a war. Members of the plus size community put on armor every day hoping that today goes better than yesterday. It doesn't help that the opposing team is yelling slurs at us and trying to psych us out. Given that environment I ask you, does it seem like such a cop-out to resort to diet pills?  Can you see why individuals would try anything at their disposal to get a leg up? The entire world is screaming at you to be thin yesterday so, yeah, you go to great lengths.  We're lucky that today's elixirs are special teas, or green coffee bean extracts, or mysterious roots found only in the most remote corners of the rain forest.  It wasn't that long ago that tapeworms were the recommended diet cure-all.  And I bet if that was still an options, I'd probably have tried that, too.

Last night ABC aired an episode of the show 'What Would You Do?' that was particularly apt for this discussion  If you haven't seen the show, I highly recommend it.  They set up ethical dilemmas, then film to see if anyone will intercede.  One of the dilemmas on last night's episode centered around teens using diet pills.  ABC loaded up a public restaurant with hidden cameras then had two thin teenage girls (actors) pressure their chubby friend (also an actor) to take diet pills.  The mean girls tried very hard to convince their friend saying things like 'Don't you want to be pretty?' or 'Don't you want a boyfriend?'  Then they let the unsuspecting public do the rest.  I gotta say, I am so proud of those unsuspecting patrons.  Time and time again they approached either the group or just the lone girl begging her not to take the pills. They made the girl aware of the negative side effects that pills can have, but more importantly they warned of the negative side effects of keeping such crappy friends. They told her she was beautiful.  They told her she was valuable.  I was almost in tears.

I no longer use any of the pills in potions in the above referenced box.  I finally woke up and realized that, if ANY of those pills worked, the world would not have an obesity crisis.  I stick to watching what I eat (when my willpower allows) and letting Yolanda kick my ass in the gym.  But not everyone has gotten to that point yet.  I implore all of you to be more like the restaurant patrons and not the shitty friends.  Encourage your friends.  Praise them.  But never, ever, ask them to comply with some arbitrary standard.  Don't worry, they'll discover beauty on their own.  Even if it takes them 30 years to get there.

The Great Joy Heist

Greetings, friends.  It’s good to know you’re still around after yesterday’s intense lesson.  Today I thought it prudent to adopt a lighter tone so today we will talk about joy.

There’s an expression we’ve all heard over and over again to ‘Never let anyone steal your joy.’  That is so, so true.  It’s definitely a mantra I have to repeat in my head daily if not hourly.  All too often we plus-size people fall into the trap of letting other people steal our joy.  For example, you could be having the most amazing day at the beach, but let just one teenage douchebag make a “beached whale” comment and the party is over.  Fold up the chairs, grab your towel, we’re out of here. 

But why?  Weren’t you having fun?  Did you build a sand castle?  You can’t leave without building a sand castle!  Sand castles are one of the two funnest architectural structures to create (the other being blanket forts).  Then there are always shells to collect, and waves to play in.  There’s boogie boarding and surfing if you have any shred of balance or agility (which I do not).  So, why are you leaving?  Oh right.  Because the douchebag said you were fat.  The guy that you will never, ever, not in a million years ever see or hear from again.  It reminds me of a lesson that my dad taught me a long time ago about life in general.  He said, “Your success or failure in life will depend on your ability to deal with a**holes.”  When you suffer from low self-esteem, regardless of whether it stems from body issues or something else, it can be very hard to find yourself in a positive situation where you feel happy and fulfilled.  So, for those fleeting moments that you DO feel joy, don’t waste it!  ESPECIALLY on a**holes.

Now, as important as it is to protect your joy and never let anyone steal it, it’s not the whole story.  The crucial part that always gets left off of that life lesson is, ‘Do not expect anyone to create your joy.’  It’s just like how the Declaration of Independence endows the right to the PURSUIT of happiness, not happiness itself.  I missed out on so much of my life sitting in my room waiting for others to come to me.  I waited patiently for someone to invite me to live.  I did manage to do SOME living.  I’ve had slumber parties, went trick-or-treating, visited the beach, even went horseback riding in the Appalachian Mountains.  Those moments of joy are mine to keep forever.  But they were fleeting.  I listen to people talk about their crazy exploits during high school and college and feel like I really missed out.  They all had so much fun together!  They had fun while I waited patiently for someone to invite me to live.

Now I’m a grownup.  The days of impetuousness have passed me by.  Now we all have jobs, spouses, kids, responsibilities.  We schedule in coffee around Little League games and dance recitals.  We promise to have dinner as soon as I’m back from my next business trip.  Most of our conversations end with, “We should get together sometime!”  But then we never do.  We mean to.  We truly want that time to connect.  We might even pencil it in on the calendar.  But then that day rolls around and the dog goes missing, and Mikey comes down with the chicken pox, and your boss needs you to put in some extra hours on the Feldman case.  Next thing you know, that window you created for joy flies away, not to be seen again for another hundred years.  It’s Just. Not. Fair. 

I have a friend who is a relatively new mom.  Her world currently revolves around identifying which part of her baby is leaking fluids and plugging the leak.  Then there’s me.  I have my own child.  He just happens to be 68 and named Dad, but he’s every bit the challenge for me that the infant is for my friend.  Despite the roadblocks, we are making an effort to be there for each other more.  Believe me when I tell you, it feels pretty damn good spending time with her.  Being with girlfriends heals you in a way other relationships won’t.  You feel stronger, prettier, and more capable just because you spent time with them.  So hire a babysitter (or force dad to be alone with the kids for once), call in sick to work, and go see your girlfriend.  Create a moment of joy for yourself and don’t let anyone take it away from you.  Not even yourself.