A few times when Mom was here she said something about not understanding why I was as fat as I am because she didn't think I ate enough to be to be this fat. Of course other times she said I was fat because I ate two eggs for breakfast. She eats one. I was recounting these conversations to Jane when she visited and she said she's never believed I eat enough to be the size I am.
There are two things that are true. I eat what I eat and weigh what I weigh so what I eat is enough to be the size that I am. But it doesn't seem like I eat that much.
I've met fat vegetarians and fat vegans. I've met fat people who aren't that interested in food. I've met fat people who feel food addicted and tell stories of obsessive and manic consumption. I've met fat people who love to cook and fat people who hate to cook. I've met fat people with health conditions that require hyper food monitoring. When you see a fat person you DO NOT know how they eat. It is not simple. If I could make one difference in how fat people are perceived it would be to get people to understand this.
Sometimes when I read a new article about the evils of obesity I remember Eugenics. Science forms a hypothesis and then sets about to prove it true. And truth likes to be absolute. But fat bodies are not absolute.
There are truths in most ideas. I nod in agreement when I hear reports about hidden salts and sugars and the general horrors of processed food. I've seen the big gulp cups and the full meal deals. There may well be a general truth to if we are and why we are more fat. But it's not an absolute truth. It's not my truth.
For a fairy long time in my life I thought of myself as not like other fat people mostly because of the way I eat. And I've always walked. My working life was physically active for many years. I wasn't like those big gulp couch potatoes. But I am in one very specific way. I am fat.
I don't feel like I am unfairly fat. I eat what I eat and I weigh what I weigh. My life. My body. My truth. Being fat is not about merit or a lack there of. When you say nasty crap about fat people you're talking about me. Fat people who eat more than what I eat don't deserve your hate.
I wrote a post about my foodie identity. I love food. I love reading about food. I love cooking shows. I love cooking. My current obsession is kale. I eat huge bowls of it three or four times a week. Some people will read that and think something about the health of how I eat. Some will think about the pleasures of seasonal eating. Some people will be completely bored. Who cares if I eat kale?
Who cares if I eat two eggs?
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
Pain
I wake up every morning because I'm in joint pain. Mostly my knees. My fingers are the second most often. The other day it was my ankle and my thumb. The next day my shoulder and this morning my hips. I can stretch and shift my position and get some relief but most of the time the pain is louder than any alarm clock.
I'm in some amount of pain all day. On a scale of one to ten I'd say I travel from four to to seven. It can shoot up past ten usually as a result of movement.
My doctor and I have had conversations about all the kinds of arthritis and the treatments. The problem with drugs is the side effects. She gave me a pain killer that knocked me out every time I used it. We tried another that was a bit better. I take herbs and I have ointments and patches. Swimming helps. Yoga helps. There is a perfect combination of exercise and rest that works but is always changing.
Cold makes it worse. Rain makes it much worse.
Mom being here has thrown me off. I'm either over doing or recovering from having over done. When she leaves I'll get some of my rhythm back.
It seems like the constant presence of pain makes me tired and unfocused and edgy.
And. I just felt like talking about it.
I'm in some amount of pain all day. On a scale of one to ten I'd say I travel from four to to seven. It can shoot up past ten usually as a result of movement.
My doctor and I have had conversations about all the kinds of arthritis and the treatments. The problem with drugs is the side effects. She gave me a pain killer that knocked me out every time I used it. We tried another that was a bit better. I take herbs and I have ointments and patches. Swimming helps. Yoga helps. There is a perfect combination of exercise and rest that works but is always changing.
Cold makes it worse. Rain makes it much worse.
Mom being here has thrown me off. I'm either over doing or recovering from having over done. When she leaves I'll get some of my rhythm back.
It seems like the constant presence of pain makes me tired and unfocused and edgy.
And. I just felt like talking about it.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
The Nattering Mass
Years ago, at the end of a visit, Mom brought me a stack of Weight Watchers propaganda and asked me to read it with an open mind. During the short conversation about why I probably couldn't do that she told me not to blame my genetics for my weight because ..."I've been fighting this all my life."
And she has.
I have early memories of her sitting at the dining room table nursing a glass of some kind of diet liquid meal while the rest of us ate.She did her last liquid diet under the supervision of a doctor who wouldn't do knee (Or hip? I forget.) surgery until she lost weight. She was in her seventies. I was livid. It seemed crazy dangerous. She's always talked about her weight as a success or failing of her own will power. But do not dare say anything if she's indulging. She'll coil like a cobra and hiss.
A few years ago I stopped plating her meals. What ever I did was wrong. One plate brought protests about too much food and the next was met with a fearful query about how much more was left in the kitchen. Maddening. She'd talk about too much food when it came to salad and pile a bowl full of ice cream and cookies after the meal.
Dieting makes people crazy.
I read an article from the Times to her today. There's lots to like in it although it is written from the perspective of a fat person who does not want to be fat and assumes all fat people would rather be thin.
Nobody wants to be fat. In most modern cultures, even if you are healthy — in my case, my cholesterol and blood pressure are low and I have an extraordinarily healthy heart — to be fat is to be perceived as weak-willed and lazy. It’s also just embarrassing. Once, at a party, I met a well-respected writer who knew my work as a health writer. “You’re not at all what I expected,” she said, eyes widening. The man I was dating, perhaps trying to help, finished the thought. “You thought she’d be thinner, right?” he said. I wanted to disappear, but the woman was gracious. “No,” she said, casting a glare at the man and reaching to warmly shake my hand. “I thought you’d be older.”
But it does however document how complex fat bodies are and how the eat less/ exercise more thing is not as simple as it sounds.
The author wishes her mother were still alive so she could tell her not to blame herself so much. Having read and discussed the article with my mom I could tell her it would be futile. I don't even try to argue with my mother's desire to be thin. I am frustrated and annoyed by the daily accounting of how much she's eating and how much weight she's gaining. We've had so many talks about the holidays and as we eat up all our gifts and treats we get back to simpler eating. But a life time of denial and indulgence has taken over and all reason is lost.
Many times fat people try to talk to me about their diet successes and failures. It's almost like a code. A way of acknowledging the "problem". I listen to Mom confessing to her friends on the phone, my friends who visit, waiters and grocery store clerks, anyone, everyone.
I've seen this in a friend with no history of weight gain. She's very health oriented. Lots of hiking and exercise. She's beautiful inside and out. And almost every time I see her eat something like a cookie she talks about it being bad. I've never been able to impact her thinking.
Out national dialogue about food fluctuates from hyper and dubious ideas about health to bigger and more food. Commercials for diet products are followed by commercials for fast food. It's been this way for years and years. My favorite commercial right now advertises a kind of girdle as a solution for unsightly bulges. I mean ... just crazy.
When Mom leaves I usually go through a sort of food break down. I come home from taking her to the airport and order a pizza. I crave bologna and potato chips. It lasts a week or two and one day I snap out of it and .... just ... eat. Eat. Not from reaction or in resistance but just ... eat. Nothing to prove or confess.
And she has.
I have early memories of her sitting at the dining room table nursing a glass of some kind of diet liquid meal while the rest of us ate.She did her last liquid diet under the supervision of a doctor who wouldn't do knee (Or hip? I forget.) surgery until she lost weight. She was in her seventies. I was livid. It seemed crazy dangerous. She's always talked about her weight as a success or failing of her own will power. But do not dare say anything if she's indulging. She'll coil like a cobra and hiss.
A few years ago I stopped plating her meals. What ever I did was wrong. One plate brought protests about too much food and the next was met with a fearful query about how much more was left in the kitchen. Maddening. She'd talk about too much food when it came to salad and pile a bowl full of ice cream and cookies after the meal.
Dieting makes people crazy.
I read an article from the Times to her today. There's lots to like in it although it is written from the perspective of a fat person who does not want to be fat and assumes all fat people would rather be thin.
Nobody wants to be fat. In most modern cultures, even if you are healthy — in my case, my cholesterol and blood pressure are low and I have an extraordinarily healthy heart — to be fat is to be perceived as weak-willed and lazy. It’s also just embarrassing. Once, at a party, I met a well-respected writer who knew my work as a health writer. “You’re not at all what I expected,” she said, eyes widening. The man I was dating, perhaps trying to help, finished the thought. “You thought she’d be thinner, right?” he said. I wanted to disappear, but the woman was gracious. “No,” she said, casting a glare at the man and reaching to warmly shake my hand. “I thought you’d be older.”
But it does however document how complex fat bodies are and how the eat less/ exercise more thing is not as simple as it sounds.
The author wishes her mother were still alive so she could tell her not to blame herself so much. Having read and discussed the article with my mom I could tell her it would be futile. I don't even try to argue with my mother's desire to be thin. I am frustrated and annoyed by the daily accounting of how much she's eating and how much weight she's gaining. We've had so many talks about the holidays and as we eat up all our gifts and treats we get back to simpler eating. But a life time of denial and indulgence has taken over and all reason is lost.
Many times fat people try to talk to me about their diet successes and failures. It's almost like a code. A way of acknowledging the "problem". I listen to Mom confessing to her friends on the phone, my friends who visit, waiters and grocery store clerks, anyone, everyone.
I've seen this in a friend with no history of weight gain. She's very health oriented. Lots of hiking and exercise. She's beautiful inside and out. And almost every time I see her eat something like a cookie she talks about it being bad. I've never been able to impact her thinking.
Out national dialogue about food fluctuates from hyper and dubious ideas about health to bigger and more food. Commercials for diet products are followed by commercials for fast food. It's been this way for years and years. My favorite commercial right now advertises a kind of girdle as a solution for unsightly bulges. I mean ... just crazy.
When Mom leaves I usually go through a sort of food break down. I come home from taking her to the airport and order a pizza. I crave bologna and potato chips. It lasts a week or two and one day I snap out of it and .... just ... eat. Eat. Not from reaction or in resistance but just ... eat. Nothing to prove or confess.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
The Light Guy
I sent this to the local paper but never heard back. I sent it kinda late for the holidays so I thought it might not get published. Ah well. I'll just publish it my self.
“The black car is gone again. “
My mother and her mother before her were inveterate
neighborhood watchers. They were not really gossip seekers; they were
chroniclers of the comings and goings of folks.
When mom is home in North Carolina she and I chat on the phone. She
tells me about who is walking a dog and how many birds are at the feeder. I did
not inherit this trait. My view out of a window is rather more visceral. I see colors and shapes and the passing of
shadows. When Mom asks me who owns the black car I am at a loss.
“What black car?”
If Mom is at my window it’s because she’s here for the
holiday visit, which became annual about four years ago. At dinner time I’d call her into the kitchen,
she’d lean toward the window and announce with jubilation,” The lights are on!
The lights are on!” The first few times
she did it I thought she was looking at the lights in the windows of other
apartments and didn’t understand the fanfare.
There is a deck on the back of a building on the other side
of the parking lot. Each year after Thanksgiving it has been decorated with
lights. I guess I had noticed them but never with the joy that Mom took in
their nightly appearance.
Last year, shortly after Christmas, I snapped out of my
window stupor one afternoon and noticed a guy taking down the lights. I half
threw myself out of the window trying to get his attention. “Hey! Hey! I want
to say thanks for the lights! My mother loves them! “
The light guy smiled and said something about having big
plans for next year.
A few months ago my landlord asked me if I knew that Donald
Casper had died. I didn’t think I knew Donald Casper but he showed me an
announcement on which was a picture of someone I recognized.
I learned more about Mr. Casper and his untimely death,
killed by a hit and run driver. I learned that he’d been an active member of
the San Francisco community, so much so that the flag at city hall had been
lowered to half mast after his passing. I didn’t know that guy. Had we met, we
might not have been friends.
When you live in a city you have lots of these kind of
relationships. A neighbor whom you never meet but you admire the garden they’ve
planted in the small square of dirt under a tree. A crossing card with whom you
exchange pleasantries until one day she is replaced by a younger person and you
never get the chance to say goodbye.
Relationships that live like small flashes of light that are only
connected in random moments of reverie.
I am tempted to resolve to be more like Mom and Grandmom. But I know myself. The world outside my
window is something more than scenery but I still don’t know who owns the black
car. Mom is here for the holidays. I showed her all the articles written about
Mr. Casper. We talk about how sad it is. And every night, when she comes into
the kitchen for dinner I see her look toward the deck. She is still keeping track of comings and
goings. For us he will always be the light guy.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
First They Come for the Children
I walked into the living room yesterday morning where Mom was listening to the news about another kidnapping.
Sigh.
When Annamarie was removed from her home it was big news. Her parents were grilled by supercilious morning talk show hosts. A few months later she was returned. She had not lost weight and there was NO coverage. Years later she is still fat. The (cough) experts have never figured out why. Her diet and exercise are strictly monitored.
Not a great way to start the day.
Yesterday afternoon I noticed that Glen Glaesser was going to be on Dr Oz. Wow. Just amazing. Glaesser is so informed and so grounded. But informed and grounded isn't usually sexy enough for the Oprah All Stars.
I've hear Glaesser in person and read him. He does not say that it's "OK to be fat". He says it's easier to get a fat person fit than it is to get them thin. And that a fit fat person is healthier than an unfit thin person. And he has the data to back it up. Dr Oz didn't hear any of that. He is vested in fat hatred. He says it's out of his experience of the suffering of fat people but he is so hyper and vigorous in his manner that it just sounds like zealotry. I don't think he's a liar I just think he has lost perspective. I admire him for having Glaesser on his show.
The articulation of whether or not it's OK to be fat is not at all useful. What does it mean? It's mildly useful for me to feel "OK" about being fat but really it's like feeling OK about any aspect of your appearance. Some days you feel better than OK and other days OK is a quantum leap. In conversations about health it's more complicated.
Annamarie's weight gain has slowed a bit after she started being treated for insulin resistance. She'd be getting much better health care if the focus was not on her weight. Her weight is part of her health profile and may be a sign of an imbalance of some kind. But why not start with a different perspective? Something more whole.
Dr Oz is big on demonstrations, some of which are interesting. He had Dr Glaesser run up and down a flight of steps and then do it again wearing a thirty pound vest. Dr Oz was making the point that the extra weight made the running harder. Dr Glaesser said something like yeah but that doesn't mean that fat people shouldn't run. Weight loss zealots never think in terms of process. It's all about the goal.
In my last post I longed for common sense in the public conversation about weight and health. And then there was Dr Glaesser. Didn't make me feel better about the kidnapping but gave me a moment of sanity. Not deep sanity. It was still the Dr Oz show.
I posted a comment on the show and was surprised by the positive reaction. There's a bit of a dust up but so far it's been pretty good.
Sigh.
When Annamarie was removed from her home it was big news. Her parents were grilled by supercilious morning talk show hosts. A few months later she was returned. She had not lost weight and there was NO coverage. Years later she is still fat. The (cough) experts have never figured out why. Her diet and exercise are strictly monitored.
Not a great way to start the day.
Yesterday afternoon I noticed that Glen Glaesser was going to be on Dr Oz. Wow. Just amazing. Glaesser is so informed and so grounded. But informed and grounded isn't usually sexy enough for the Oprah All Stars.
I've hear Glaesser in person and read him. He does not say that it's "OK to be fat". He says it's easier to get a fat person fit than it is to get them thin. And that a fit fat person is healthier than an unfit thin person. And he has the data to back it up. Dr Oz didn't hear any of that. He is vested in fat hatred. He says it's out of his experience of the suffering of fat people but he is so hyper and vigorous in his manner that it just sounds like zealotry. I don't think he's a liar I just think he has lost perspective. I admire him for having Glaesser on his show.
The articulation of whether or not it's OK to be fat is not at all useful. What does it mean? It's mildly useful for me to feel "OK" about being fat but really it's like feeling OK about any aspect of your appearance. Some days you feel better than OK and other days OK is a quantum leap. In conversations about health it's more complicated.
Annamarie's weight gain has slowed a bit after she started being treated for insulin resistance. She'd be getting much better health care if the focus was not on her weight. Her weight is part of her health profile and may be a sign of an imbalance of some kind. But why not start with a different perspective? Something more whole.
Dr Oz is big on demonstrations, some of which are interesting. He had Dr Glaesser run up and down a flight of steps and then do it again wearing a thirty pound vest. Dr Oz was making the point that the extra weight made the running harder. Dr Glaesser said something like yeah but that doesn't mean that fat people shouldn't run. Weight loss zealots never think in terms of process. It's all about the goal.
In my last post I longed for common sense in the public conversation about weight and health. And then there was Dr Glaesser. Didn't make me feel better about the kidnapping but gave me a moment of sanity. Not deep sanity. It was still the Dr Oz show.
I posted a comment on the show and was surprised by the positive reaction. There's a bit of a dust up but so far it's been pretty good.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
New Cure. Same as the Old Cure
Wish I had more time to write this. I'm taking advantage of Mom being busy with something at the table. There was an article about a new cure for obesity and some chatter about it. I've been wanting to add my two cents.
Years ago two women from NAAFA were on a Dr Phil. He asked them if they were a pill that could make them thin would they take it. They both hedged. I'm not sure what's happening with NAAFA now but my experience was never great. Every time I attended a NAAFA event someone would whisper something about all this size acceptance being OK but wouldn't it be better if we lost weight.
I don't really like the language of size acceptance. Acceptance seems passive. Resigned. I also have trouble with celebrating being fat. I don't know if people celebrate their eye color, or their height so why their weight?
My process has been about understanding that my body is fat. My weight has changed in my life but I've never been thin. My body easily and naturally gets fat. I do lose weight. Often. Most bodies, especially female bodies fluctuate. My appetite changes. How much exercise I get changes. My weight changes relative to those things and more. Mom comments almost daily on not understanding why I'm as fat as I am because of the way I eat. At some point I just stopped thinking of the fat being something something separate from my body, like a coat I could remove. So if someone offered me a pill to cure my weight problem it would feel like they were offering me a pill to fix my brown eye problem. It took years of awareness shifts to build this reaction.
And I've seen too many of the cures for obesity. This new one "stems the flow of blood to fat cells and kills them off."
Uhhh....
Why do so many cures sound so destructive? Surgeries to mutilate an organ that is necessary to be alive. Pills that cause heart and lung damage. The encouragement of eating disordered obsession. Parents so worried about having a fat child they starve their babies.
As I am writing I am listening to Wait Wait a show that I generally enjoy but is notoriously fat hating. Fat jokes are being made in a discussion about the new "pizza is a vegetable" because of the tomato sauce crap. We went through this with ketchup. Botanically tomatoes are a fruit, which still doesn't make their presence on some dough particularly healthy. I'm a fan of pizza as a medium. Pizza can be rich with nutrient or doughy and greasy. As long as being fat is a medical condition instead of a body type and a moral failing our ideas about food will leave me torked.
So many cures. So many pills. Phen Phen. Redux. Those were the new magic pills years ago. People, mainly young women, died. No, Dr Phil. I'm not interested in a new pill. I do not need a cure. I need some bleepin common sense in the public discussion about weight.
Years ago two women from NAAFA were on a Dr Phil. He asked them if they were a pill that could make them thin would they take it. They both hedged. I'm not sure what's happening with NAAFA now but my experience was never great. Every time I attended a NAAFA event someone would whisper something about all this size acceptance being OK but wouldn't it be better if we lost weight.
I don't really like the language of size acceptance. Acceptance seems passive. Resigned. I also have trouble with celebrating being fat. I don't know if people celebrate their eye color, or their height so why their weight?
My process has been about understanding that my body is fat. My weight has changed in my life but I've never been thin. My body easily and naturally gets fat. I do lose weight. Often. Most bodies, especially female bodies fluctuate. My appetite changes. How much exercise I get changes. My weight changes relative to those things and more. Mom comments almost daily on not understanding why I'm as fat as I am because of the way I eat. At some point I just stopped thinking of the fat being something something separate from my body, like a coat I could remove. So if someone offered me a pill to cure my weight problem it would feel like they were offering me a pill to fix my brown eye problem. It took years of awareness shifts to build this reaction.
And I've seen too many of the cures for obesity. This new one "stems the flow of blood to fat cells and kills them off."
Uhhh....
Why do so many cures sound so destructive? Surgeries to mutilate an organ that is necessary to be alive. Pills that cause heart and lung damage. The encouragement of eating disordered obsession. Parents so worried about having a fat child they starve their babies.
As I am writing I am listening to Wait Wait a show that I generally enjoy but is notoriously fat hating. Fat jokes are being made in a discussion about the new "pizza is a vegetable" because of the tomato sauce crap. We went through this with ketchup. Botanically tomatoes are a fruit, which still doesn't make their presence on some dough particularly healthy. I'm a fan of pizza as a medium. Pizza can be rich with nutrient or doughy and greasy. As long as being fat is a medical condition instead of a body type and a moral failing our ideas about food will leave me torked.
So many cures. So many pills. Phen Phen. Redux. Those were the new magic pills years ago. People, mainly young women, died. No, Dr Phil. I'm not interested in a new pill. I do not need a cure. I need some bleepin common sense in the public discussion about weight.
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