Why I don’t like the term ‘fat acceptance’
Tuesday, December 27th, 2011
This is a bit of a weird thing to say on an FA blog but please hear me out.
Firstly ‘fat’ is not a generic quality. We can have a fat arse, or fat thighs, or fat arms, or a fat tummy. We can be short and fat or tall and fat. And all of the types of fat have varying levels of social acceptability. People can look social unacceptably fat at lower weights, but can also pass the socially acceptable/sexually attract bar at a different places. Different body parts have different social values. Fat boobs = SEX. Fat tummy = GROSS.
Secondly, fat is not the only the kind of OK. And ‘fat’ and ‘normal’ are not the only kinds of OK. Beauty takes on different shapes and sizes. To me I want to see diversity in body types, and for that to all be OK. Female athletes often develop less ‘feminine’ body types and it should be OK to have bodies that look different. My mantra with the kids is ‘if everyone looked the same, we’d get tired of looking at each other’. We talk and seek out shapes in bodies. And our different racial features in our family are recognized and discussed, as are our bodies. We all have beauty to look at.
And thirdly, acceptance? Blah. Acceptance is putting up with. Recognizing. Tolerating. I like the idea of celebrating. Discussing. Embracing. I don’t find an emotional connection with acceptance.
So, when I asked I say that I favor body diversity. I talk about a media that would show old and young, representative races, different genders and different body types.
Love and other cat-astrophes
Friday, November 25th, 2011
I have been thinking about love recently. I am coming up for my tenth anniversary with my husband (awww) and still in awe of how I got such a great guy. He is cute, funny, a great father, and an awesome partner in all regards. We are truly better together than apart and I feel quite lucky to have him.
I was talking with a dear friend recently, and we discussed the concept of fat love. It’s been kicking around the blogsphere recently with the Ashley Madison/Juicy Jacquelin add, and the idea that fat people don’t really warrant loving. Or intimacy. And where there is love with fat people, it tends to be two fat people in love. Which is cool. Love is cool. But equally, it would be weird for the only images we see of racial love to be white with white, asian with asian, black with black love. Anyway, we came up with the term “bi-fattual” to describe relationships where one person is skinnier than the other, or fatter, or however you want to draw the reference line. And that’s me and my hubby. He is at least 10 kgs lighter than me. It’s Ok. Because relationships that last years (and decades!) are not about looks. Because how many 80 years old look at a partner of 60 years and see the person they married. We change. The flesh suit is malleable. Relationships are about personality and connection. And we can get there regardless of size.
This the card I got my husband (by www.ableandgame.com). Adorbs, no?
Swimmers (yeah, have you got your SWIMSUIT BODY)
Wednesday, November 9th, 2011
Its that time of year where all the magazines seem to have articles about swimsuits for every size. But, seriously, it’s swimsuits for every size up to size 16. It seems like the actual outfit of anyone of a larger size at my local pool is a one piece with a pair of boardshorts with a one piece swimsuits.
My choice was a polka dot swimmers from Kmart. They look very much like this this pair from asos but go up to a size 18 and cost $19.
If you are a bit shyer about your thighs and just want a splash around this is nice and goes up to a size 30 – available from figleaves.com. 
For some Aussie brand Sue Rice are cute and go up to size 24. Yet, the corset fit kind of worries me. RELAX in your swimmers. BREATHE.

This is my current lemming from Kiyonna, a convertible swimsuit. I want this so bad for summer. Its available in a few colours, up to size 32 and $140 ish. Num num num.
So, yes. You have your swim suit body. It’s your body. Dunk it. Cool down. Enjoy yourself and be in your body rather than outside judging.
Oh and the final option, in the privacy of your own home or appropriate zoned swimming area is chunky dunking (thats skinny dipping for fats
)
Hospital stays & independence
Friday, November 4th, 2011
I’ve recently done what, even for me, is a truly bizarre injury. I fell over coming into my building on a rainy day, where the marble foyer floor becomes slippery slick when the weather turns. And as I fell I threw my hands down to break my fall and broke *both* wrists. It’s a surprisingly debilitating injury as you can’t do anything without help. You can’t eat (well other than face forward cat-like nibbles), you can’t type and you can’t drive. My assistant has been doing a remarkably buoyant job of taking down by dictation as voice recognition SUCKS. Especially if you have a broad accent as I do.
Being in hospital is always a strange experience. I was about 40 years younger than most other folks on the ward. We were all struggling with wanting to be home and wanting to get some independence back.
It reminded me more than anything that I have a (generally!) functional body. I don’t hate it. I want to be healthy. I want my kids to see me being present in my body and maintain their presence if their body. And when I forget, I can think about when I’m older how I will look back to this time as a time of energy and activity. And then I can look at my boys and remember that they naturally stay in the moment, eat when they are hungry and enjoy climbing and running and stretching. And use those thoughts to bring me into myself, today.
The struggle of being fat and sick (even if they aren’t related things)
Friday, October 28th, 2011
Please be advised that this post may be triggering for some readers. It contains weight loss talk, talk of weight loss surgery, and talk about medical conditions and their relationship with obesity.
Earlier this year I was diagnosed with diabeties. The Type II kind. The one that the wider community assumes that all obese people will end up getting. Well, I got it and I have had a hard time trying to deal with that over the last 9 months or so. At the same time I was diagnosed with a condition where my testosterone levels are very low. I have no energy or drive to do things, I struggle to concentrate for long periods of time and I quite often just feel like shit.
I’ve recently started to notice that I feel quite disconnected from my body these days. It’s something that is there and I can feel that it is physically there, but I feel almost separated from it. I don’t feel like I have any control over it. It’s just there and a lot of the time it just gets in the way or doesn’t to the things I want it to do.
I’ve seen a specialist about my condition and their response was that the only viable solution was for me to lose weight. Apparently my condition is brought on by being obese and if I wasn’t so obese then I wouldn’t have the condition. Wow, so simple. They also strongly recommended that I have a Lap Band installed so that I could get the weight off and start to feel better, and that with my failed history of dieting and weight loss attempts that this was my only viable solution. I was gobbsmacked.
I’ve read a fair bit about Lap Bands over the few years that I’ve been apart of the Fat Aceptance movement and the last thing I wanted was one of those. I was angry that this is all I was being offered as a form of treatment. If I didn’t go down this path I would have to deal with my illness myself and that just didn’t seem right.
A couple of months have passed since then and I’m starting to feel desparate. My body feels like it is failing more and more. I have less and less energy to get up and do things. I’m almost completely disinterested in life and there are days where I would just like to switch off and come back in a couple of days or weeks when I feel a little bit better.
Nagging on my mind all this time were the words of this specialist. I must lose weight. i must get a Lap Band. But yet I know that studies show that weight loss diets and ineffective, and that there are many complications with Lap Band surgery that makes it almost not worth the risk. And yet it digs at me.
It digs at me to the point that I have now regressed so far in my thoughts of my body. I feel like it’s my fault that I’m sick and that if I just stopped eating so much and exercised more I would lose some weight and feel better. Wow. That’s so far from the FA mantra that I’ve adopted over the last few years that I feel ashamed to even write it. And yet it is how I feel right now thanks to the good work of that specialist and my brain running over all of this.
I can understand how deseparation could lead someone to get a Lap Band. This morning I almost convinced myself that it was the only way that I was ever going to feel better. I’ve managed to get myself out of that mindset at the moment but I’m sure it will be back. And I’ll have to fight it off again.
If I had some idea of what I could do to fix myself in a way that was nourishing for my body, then I would happily take it. I probably need some sort of eating therapy. I’m convinced that I have disordered eating and no amount of dieting or surgery will fix that. But that kind of thing just isn’t there in mainstream medicine.
So for now I struggle with this mental gap between where my brain is and where my body is. I feel like I’m betraying the Fat Acceptance movement by even writing this post and talking about my struggle. I think it’s important that we all recognise that it is hard to deal with this sort of stuff even if you have been fighting for fat acceptance for years.
Somehow I have to find a solution to my health problem. I don’t know what that is going to be yet. It may be that I get so desparate that I get a Lap Band. I don’t know right now. All I know right now is that I wish there were answers and I wish there were more answers than just “lose weight”.
‘Cause it’s not like I was successful al that over the last 31 years. How the heck would I be able to start now?
My health at my size
Monday, September 26th, 2011
When my asthma is out of control I need to go on steroidal treatment (which is most often prednisone). Streoids tend to make me, for want of a better word, puffy. I gain weigh in my trunk which is a common side effect of prednisone. Abdominal weight gain is a common side effect of prednisone. I also have to accept other side effects of my treatment as cost of being able to breathe easily.
For me the relationship between health and weight is not linear or causal. My weight (or at least size) tends to fluctuate with my health but I have decided that I will focus on the directly controllable parts of asthma management;
- regular exercise
- avoiding the allergens I can (ie cigarette smoke)
- flu vaccinations
- healthy diet (in the sense of avoiding my allergens)
- appropriate asthma medications
Within my plan I need to accept some things are not directly controllable. I cannot control when pollens bloom, when I catch various respiratory viruses, or when bushfires occur,.
There are plenty of resources that suggest there is a relationship between obesity and asthma. And yet, for me I’m divorcing the issues. My health is not my thighs. My health is not pants size. My health is being able to breathe and laugh and live my life.
FATsion – sometimes it’s about covering your butt
Tuesday, September 20th, 2011
A lot of the FATsion articles I see have really gorgeous dresses and skirts. The kind of retro cool clothing I wear in my head with swooshy skirts and cool fabrics. But it my life I am either in the office in a reasonable corporate environment, or in my other job I am looking after my kids and I wear the unofficial uniform of the stay-at-home mother which is a nice-ish pair of jeans and a top. I spend a lot of the day either giving chase to runaway toddlers, crawling across playgrounds doing my best impersonation of lions or leaning down to wipe down most noticeable dirt. By elimination I have discovered that most of the somewhat stylish jeans in my size either assume a waist that I do not have, or drift down to show significantly more of my body that I want to share with the playground crowd. (Or indeed anyone who is not a medical professional or related to me).
There are some gorgeous plus size brands out there include SVOBODA and Embody, but I’m a little worried about paying $150+ for something I haven’t tried on and potentially could make me look like a toadstool. My current favourite pair is Lee “Slender Secret” jeans. They come in plus sizes to a 24W in my favourite style (and up to 30W in some others). I am a ~18-20 at the moment and wear the 16W. They have a waist band that is much higher in the back than the front and avoid both muffin top and sit a good 12cm higher than my target jeans. They have a range of leg cuts and colours, and the sale price sits around $US30. I tend to order from JCPenny who are usually good for a 20% off discount on retailmenot.com. This means I pay about $40 with postage for a decent, flattering, long wearing, and ass covering pair of jeans. I’m not convinced they have a slender secret by any means but they get points for not riding southwards easily…
So what’s your favourite pair of jeans? Any tips on local Australian retailers with decent jeans under $150 – please leave me a comment below. I live in jeans!
Hello world
Saturday, September 17th, 2011
Hello world, I’m the latest member of the Axis of Fat . I’m a mother of 2 boys who are 4 years old and 1.5 years old. I’m 33 at the moment and had my first child at 29. It was a pretty big shock for me in more ways than one. I’d always been a professional working in high intensity, very make dominated fields with little though to the ‘feminine sphere’ – house, family, child rearing.
As some one who had tended towards chub (at my skinniest I sit around a sz14-16, currently I sit around at 18-20) , I wasn’t as alarmed as many women are about the changes in my body during pregnancy. They all seemed very alarmed about stretchmark, but fuck that noise, I had stretchmarks at 14. Now my stretchmarks had friends. The mind uck for me came after my kids where born. You see my oldest boy was skinny. Really skinny. And having a baby is a through the looking glass experience for anyone who has struggled with weight because it’s all about getting your child to gain weight healthily and this was especially true with my first son who was born slightly prematurely (at the same gestation as myself, which is relatively common for children of prematurely born mothers). And instead of women boasting or commiserating about weight loss they boasted about how much weight their baby had gained that week. Weird. And my kid, somehow given both his parents build, was tiny. I had no end of doctors telling me to make him eat more and offer him more food. Our house has no shortage of food and it’s not like we ration I felt like yelling. Somewhere along the line, at about 18 months old I realize that my kid has stayed about the same weight percentile (and indeed height percentile) no matter what I did. Huh.
Then I got pregnant with baby 2. And this child cooked a longer and came out looking plump. He fed well and had rolls on his rolls on his chubby thigh rolls. People stopped me to tell me “That’s what a baby should look like” and the nurses told me what a good job I had been doing.
Huh.
Now the boys are eating (or at least being offered) the same food. And it continues. They are both very active and eat pretty healthy meals. But I have one boy who nibbles everything on the plate, squirms and talks until he’s allowed to get down from the table and one who eats everything in front of him then scavenges his brothers left overs, anything from his parents plates, anything he can find in the kitchen! One is so slim the doctor comments on how he has no meat on the bones while the other boy, well, the doctor comments on how much he looks like his parents.
And then I realized;
I love them both with no regard to their body shape. They are beautiful and the size they will be, and their beauty to me is not in spite of their bodies but due to their perfect little bodies.
And then I realized;
That must mean that I have beauty in me. Not in spite of what I look like, but because of what I look like and who I am.
And here I am talking about body image. Not accepting yourself in spite of, but finding the beauty that is in you. That was always into you. That we can all see.
Toxic shopping
Saturday, September 17th, 2011
Owning my own clothing shop was a real eye-opener.
Pre-shop (and pre-Fatosphere) I hated clothes shopping. Loved clothes, just hated having to find them. You know, going into every shop in the mall and not finding ONE single nicely fitting garment, berating myself for not fitting into the clothes, believing the fault was somehow in my body rather than some randomly-sized piece of fabric. Finishing the day purchase-less, depressed and full of self-hatred.
Oh, I used to come out with some pearlers. ‘It will all be fine when I’ve lost the weight!’, I’d moan, trying unsuccessfully to zip up something that said it was a size ‘curvaceous’ but actually looked like a cylinder stretched over a large pear. ‘If only my stomach wasn’t so fat!’ ‘I’m so vile!’ ‘I’m so gross!’ Blah blah blah – none of it was true and it didn’t achieve anything except to leave me miserable.
Then I discovered body acceptance, located a few good plus-size designers who made clothing that I liked and fitted me well, and concluded that actually I LOVED clothes shopping. I loved trying on clothing that was made for a body like mine. I had no problems when things didn’t fit because clearly it wasn’t anything wrong with my fantastic bod, but just the cut, style, size or fabric of an inanimate object made by somebody far away who had never met me. Oh, but when I found something I loved that did fit? It was heaven. It was magic happy-land, full of fantastic wardrobe selections, being appropriately dressed for any occasion and people saying agreeable things like ‘I love your outfit! I really like your style.’
Somehow from there I fell into clothes shop ownership.
And had a revelation.
Back in those sad shop-hating days, I was not the only person in the world who had loathed finding clothes! I wasn’t the only human in Australia who would make unkind, hate-filled comments about my own body! In public!
Working in the shop some days is like watching a bizarre reality show called ‘When Social Convention Attacks’. It’s a stream of fabulous people from all walks of life, all shapes, all sizes, all abilities, all backgrounds … all coming into the shop looking AWESOME and then just uttering hate all over their amazing selves.
From my body-acceptance viewpoint I find it really hard to hear, even though I once came from the same dark place. The thing I find most amazing is that there is no real similarity in the people who utter such things, except that they are all human people. Fat, thin, short, tall, all the gender permutations, all the cultural backgrounds, all the abilities. All doing the socially-acceptable thing of hating on themselves. Yes, even the women who happen to perfectly fit the social beauty ideal, still come into the shop and say dreadful things about their poor bodies.
Initially I was prepared to be offended. I now admit that no amount of self-acceptance will ever entirely reconcile me to a thin person asking me ‘Do I look fat in this?’ I tell the truth: no. (One day a very thin woman looked my fat body up and down, her gaze lingering on my hips. ‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ she sneered. That was a tough moment for keeping my professional calm but I managed. I told her the truth again: ’That dress does fit you well.’)
It’s hard to know what to say when somebody asks me if they look fat in the dress and they do, because they are, and they also happen to look great. I am happy to describe myself as fat, but I know many people don’t take it so well. I usually prefer to focus on the fit of a garment, as above. I tell the customer ‘the dress fits you well’ or ‘I think I can find something to fit your shoulders more comfortably’. Oh, I long for the day I can say ‘Yes it makes you look fat: you look GORGEOUS in it!’ and the customer won’t be offended.
I have worked out that there is no point in me showing offence just because somebody has made one of those two-edged insults (my dear, if you think YOU’RE too fat to be allowed out, what do you think of ME?) Sometimes the comments are clearly aimed to offend, in which case it’s their problem, not mine; and just as sensible for me to ignore the jibe and get on with the job. More often, it’s not meant to offend at all. It’s just one of those things that we have been taught to do to ourselves, to punish ourselves to not living up to the impossible ideals of a Photoshop society. Any anger I feel needs to be directed against society as a whole and not individual people.
Most often it’s just dispiriting. When customers blame themselves if a frock doesn’t fit I remind them about the Shop Rule: ‘It Isn’t You; It’s The Clothes’. If a dress doesn’t fit, either the size or the cut is wrong. We simply turn our efforts to finding something that does fit. Why should a wonderful, complex, living body be blamed if a piece of sewn-together, randomly sized fabric doesn’t fit it?
Most people joyfully embrace the Shop Rule and get into the vibe. Some people simply don’t get it.
We understand that everybody is at a different stage in their journey of self-acceptance. It is up to us as the shopkeepers to encourage an accepting and positive environment, and that means finding nice ways to remind people to join in. We tell people about the Shop Rule; we stock different sizes as much as we are able; we use body-positive language; we ask friends and customers to model clothing for us so that the garments can be viewed on lots of different bodies.
We do get people who want to buy a garment that is too small for them because they are ‘losing weight, and it will be inspiration’. While that makes us really uncomfortable, we can’t make customers’ decisions for them, but we usually recommend that people buy in their current size so they can enjoy the garments right now. Our dresses are like puppies – they want to be loved now, not put aside to feel lonely!
We don’t buy into customers’ negative comments about themselves. If somebody says ‘I can’t wear that style until I’ve lost weight’ we tell them up-front to go ahead and try it on, since they’ll look just as lovely at any size. If somebody loves a dress and it makes them happy but they are scared to wear something sleeveless, we will always point out that there are no laws against bare arms in Australia, and tell the customer the truth when they just look really comfortable and good in a garment. And we always come down to Shop Rule no. 2 – You Must Feel Comfortable – by which we mean if you want to wear the garment then you jolly well should!
Having said all this, there is one thing I just can’t bear to hear: negative comments about other people. It’s bad enough hearing perfectly good people trash themselves, but it’s frightening when that negativity is directed outwards.
Some people are just toxic. Two women once looked at our shop sign which mentions sizes 6 to 34, and said very loudly ‘We didn’t even know there was such a THING as size 34!’ (I was scandalized but my business partner calmly replied ‘Of course there is,’ and left it at that, which actually did the trick.) One fantastic customer who we adore, often comes in with her mother, who tells her that she looks ugly in everything, and criticises individual parts of her body non-stop. It’s horrible to hear. And every now and then somebody will come in with a toxic friend or partner who will attempt to vet everything they choose, and try to stop them selecting clothes they love: in the words of one toxic husband ‘You can’t have that, it makes you look porky’ (Grrr, that comment nearly did make me lose my cool). Sometimes a group of friends are dominated by one cruel person who will hog all the time and energy of others while making oh-so-funny comments that undermine their friends’ confidence.
You know, it is amazing how often people creep back later, without their toxic friends, to try things on again in peace and tranquility. Toxic friends don’t win anything in the end …
Trying to keep our little business positive can feel like a losing battle when gorgeous customer after gorgeous customer plays the ‘I’m so …’ game. A game that we are taught to play from a very early age, and which some unscrupulous people use as a weapon to hurt others. It is so prevalent, even people who desperately want to be body-confident sometimes find themselves doing it subconsciously.
Interestingly though, knowing how prevalent it is can actually be helpful. Understanding that nearly everybody does it – seeing it played out again and again and again and again – this helps it to become more visible, more recognisable. Seeing that all kinds of people succumb to self-hatred, that there is no connection whatsoever to what they say about themselves and very evident reality: this has turned out to be valuable in my own struggles not to give in to it.
Next time you’re in the dressing room struggling with a zipper on some garment that just wasn’t cut out for you, try to remember that you’re not alone. All over Australia, people of every conceivable shape and size are doing the same thing, and blaming themselves, and feeling awful about it. Remember that, then take some soothing deep breaths, get dressed again, leave the dressing room, go find your shop assistant and explain that the garment didn’t fit. Ask for something that fits your perfectly good body. And repeat after me: ‘It Isn’t Me: It’s The Clothes’.
And don’t bring a toxic friend shopping!
My Body Has a History
Saturday, September 17th, 2011
Warning: The following is an account of my developing relationship with my own body. I’m not sure if the content could be considered triggering, but I’d rather be too cautious than not cautious enough!
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Putting aside the fact that I’m a PhD student, I have a very analytical approach to things as a general rule. As such, it might just work out that a lot of my posts end up reflecting my ‘academic’ approach to things – albeit most likely with a large side dish of snark, because snark is just so tasty. I do want to make sure that I introduce myself on a personal level, though. After all, I’m here for a reason!
It seems fitting that on making the decision to write this post I happened across Lesley Kinzel‘s ‘Scientifically* Proven: Dancing In Your Underwear Is Good For You‘ article, discussing the ever-so-awesome Beth Ditto and her penchant for performing in her underwear. Quoth Lesley:
Regular underwear dancing is a sure route to making yourself awesome. I’m going to go out on a limb here and prescribe the same practice to all of you. Oh, I know it sounds silly and juvenile and embarassing, but trust me — it’s good for you. Like broccoli.
I have a confession to make…




