Bad Days.

Sometimes, it's just really fucking hard to love yourself. I'm going through one of those times right now. The tears haven't even dried in my eyes. Right now. Today is the last day of a little vacation my mom and I got while my dad and brother were away with some family friends. Today, we were supposed to go shopping.

For the last 3 years I've been pretty dependent on girdles to feel comfortable in clothes; I am desperately trying to stop that now. So, I decided I wasn't going to wear a girdle today to shop and therefore only buy clothes that didn't need a girdle to be worn. Most of my clothes need a girdle as it is.

There are a few things about my body that make it hard to buy clothes. 1.) Most obviously, I'm fat. 2.) I have rather short legs so most "average" pants are far too long on me. 3.) I have small breasts for my body size. 4.) I have a large roll right above where the waist of my pants sits. A roll that sticks out a bit more than my breasts and continues around to my sides. 5.) I have a long torso and broad back.

It may be hard to find fashionable clothes just as a fat woman who is proportionate, but it's extremely difficult to find clothes as a fat woman who is disproportionate like me. I need clothes that are smaller up top, form fitting, but not tight on my stomach and long.

So, while getting dressed today, I decided to do the stupid thing and try on old pants that I had in my closet. Of course they came close to fitting but didn't quite make it. Unfortunately, it's hard not to take a hit to your ego when that happens. And when that happens, I feel exceptionally jiggly when it comes to that roll that sticks out past my boobs. Add to all that, the fact that I need to wear a girdle to feel comfortable in most of my tops... That means Lexie becomes a sweet, little un-self-loving wreck when all of this and the pressure to hate myself gets to me.

The person I turn to when I feel like this is my mother. My mother is probably not the best person to turn to as when she was young she went to "diet doctors" and resorted to pills, starving and even illegal drugs to get and stay thin. Even with my Fat Acceptance stance, she still doesn't fully agree and, when I'm weak, tries to get me to go on a diet or some other thing. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother and her slight pressure to get me on another diet isn't because she doesn't love me but because she thinks it'll make me feel better to "do something about it." She often tells co-workers about my self-acceptance and how much happier I am over-all and how proud of me she is to fight back when the whole world is trying to beat me into submission. My mother loves me and that's all that matters, and I suppose that's why I go to her when I need support, even if I don't quite get the support I want.

So, anyway, does everyone have these days? I'm sure they do. But when you have one it feels like you're the only failure in the world. After my depression settled and faded (I'm lucky enough to not get and stay depressed for long) I realized that, fuck, I have nothing to be sad about! I have a body and it works. I'm lucky that I can walk and run and jump and see and hear and speak and feel. I have a boyfriend who loves and cares for me and would do anything to make sure I'm happy. I have a family that loves and supports me in everything I do. I have the money to do what I need to and get what I want. I'm fat and I'm smart and I'm beautiful to the people who matter to me and, most importantly, I'm beautiful to me. What do I have to be whining about?

Yeah, so I had a bad day. You'll have them too. But I want you to know that your life doesn't suck. You're beautiful. You're wonderful. You're fat, or you're not, but you're you and that's all you're required to be in this world. So buck up and be it.

Big Smiles!
-LexieDi

Is it True?

Is It True? is the name of a show on the Discovery Channel, hosted by Chuck Nice- that comedian whose face you recognize but who's name you never remember. The show centers around debunking or confirming videos and pictures on the internet, or, that's the premise as far as I've seen.

One episode dealt with world records for wearing shirts. So they filmed as a former record holder went for the gold again (he didn't make it). But, supposedly inspired by the shirt wearing videos, Mr. Nice and his scientist buddy decided to do something similar: to achieve the world record for the highest number of boxer shorts worn at one time. So they started piling them onto Mr. Nice with his narration. Up until this point, I was okay with the show. It was entertaining but not the most fun or interesting. Just entertaining.

Mr. Nice started commenting on the weight (11 extra pounds) and tightness of the boxers and that the elastic waist bands were making it hard to breathe. Then he said something like "Now I know why extremely overweight people find it hard to move and get out of breath so easily."

Did anyone else facepalm? I did. Having something pushing in on your guts is nothing like being fat. Having something on you is not comparable to being naturally fat. A more appropriate comparison would have been "Now I know why women often fainted when corsets were in fashion." That makes sense! Sense, Discovery Channel! That's all I want!

I want to know what gives a (sans-boxers) 180 pound man the right to say "this is how very overweight people feel." Especially when he's just putting on pair after pair of boxers (he ended up wearing 50-some-odd pairs). How does that even come close to being naturally fat? You put a man in an extraordinary position and then tell him to compare it to a normal way of being? Ridiculous.

The only thing that he might be saying that I may be over-looking is that having the elastic bands of the boxers pressing in to him is comparable to large people having access to ill-fitting clothes or wearing clothes that are too tight. However, I somehow doubt this is the case as he mentioned nothing about what fat people wear.

This is a prime example about how fat people can not, no matter where they go or what they do, escape judgment for being fat. I would expect a comment like that if I were watching a show on health or a show on weight or even a show on bodies! But he's just putting on boxer shorts! It has nothing whatsoever to do with the OMGURGONNADIE obesity epidemic. The discrimination and reminders that we are bad bad bad bad bad fatties and that we're gonna die won't even be contained by sense. It's really a shame.

Big Smiles!
-LexieDi

Today in the Fat World.

Today in the fat world, I commented on a friend's Facebook page about how upsetting it was that she "liked" the fat-hating page "There's a Weight Limit on Leggings & Skinny Jeans" her boyfriend was quick to comment on how proud of her he was. Well, here's the conversation thus far... she's yet to say anything about it.


Edit: More!




For the record, as I explain above, I'm not comparing the horrid mistreatment, discrimination and murder of the Jews to the discrimination of fat people; I'm only expressing an idea that keeping someone from wearing something is much like forcing them to wear something.

Edit: Even more! Plus, a new friend!






Edit: Now, it's getting tiring.. I don't know why this new guy thinks I insulted his little cousin even though I don't even know him or his cousin. He obviously didn't read my whole post and doesn't understand sarcasm. *sigh* Really, I wonder about people.



Edit: The end!



After this, her boyfriend joined in again telling me that I was "owned" and to "shut the fuck up." I said that my original post had nothing to do with them in the first place, and my friend deserved better than to be around people who use sad insults and devalue and discriminate against people who are different or do not appeal to them. I sent a message to my friend to apologize to her that the post went on for so long. She told me that it was okay that it was interesting that we disagreed and that she was deleting the post so her boyfriend and others didn't keep it up. She also asked me not to insult her boyfriend where she could see. I wanted to mention that she obviously didn't warn him about insulting her friends (over and over). But I figure that it's really not worth losing the friendship over, even though it's quite irking.

O well! It's very interesting to see how people act and react when confronted with the idea that harassment and discrimination is wrong when it's so socially acceptable.

Big Smiles!
-LexieDi

Fat Acceptance and Views on Beauty.

I will start this with little to no introduction. Ready? I hope so.

Yesterday, my boyfrend, Keith, and I spoke for a healthy portion of the day (while I also obsessively played Harvest Moon on my DS). Near the time my mom was scheduled to come home, I let him know that I would be leaving every day around the same time to go for a walk with my mom before dinner.

"Soon be skinny Lexie," he said.

"I don't want to be skinny Lexie," I replied.

Of course, I figured that this would be confusing as he's not really into the whole Fat Acceptance thing except by association (that association being me). He asked why, and here's my response, as I'm quite proud of it.

"I'm just not skinny. There's really no way I could ever be skinny without starving myself. And being thin doesn't make me any more or less beautiful. Society values one more than the other but that doesn't mean one actually is better than the other."

This is about as clear as I can make it. This is (perhaps not the whole, but the majority of) the FA movement to me: I'm fat. I can't not be fat without mental, emotional and physical harm coming to me. Being fat is no worse or better than being thin.

Now, don't get me wrong, if I were just naturally thin, then I'd be fine being thin/skinny Lexie. There's nothing wrong with being thin or skinny, or average, or a little fat, or pretty fat, or really fat. We're all people and deserve to be treated as people.

On another relationship + fat related note, I would like to say (shout, scream, can someone loan me a bullhorn?) thinness is not the end all, be all of attractiveness. People are different. For example... Whenever I see Tim Curry, I get the distinct chill down my spine that tells me "that is an extremely attractive person." Alternately, when I see Jude Law, all I can muster is a shrug of my shoulders an a half-hearted "meh."

Vincent Price? Shiver. Toby Maguire? Meh.

Jack Nicholson? Shiver. Jake Gyllenhaal? Meh.

So, I'm assuming, by now, that people think I'm crazy. "She's fat and thinks it's okay, AND she finds these people un/attractive?!" I'm not crazy. I'm just not you. I don't think you're crazy if you think Toby Maguire is the God of Sex, I just don't agree.

So when someone finds a fat person attractive, do not say that she or he is sick, has a mental illness, or is blind. Don't devalue his or her idea of beauty just because it doesn't match the social idea of beauty or your idea of beauty. Don't say I'm crazy for being attracted to fat men, and I won't tell the world that you spontaneously orgasm every time you watch Spiderman. Deal?
Deal.

Big Smiles!
-LexieDi

Is That a Fat Joke? & The Invisible Fattie.

I went to the movies today. Saw Iron Man 2, again, because it's fun, and also because my family hadn't seen it. (I went to see it with my friend Rocky on the night it came out.)

So, anyway, we do what we usually do: Buy some candy at the store and stuff it into purses, get one large popcorn to share and two medium drinks to share between the four of us. My brother and I share a soda like always but because he tends to suck down soda like air (and I love my fountain drinks too, don't get me wrong), it's empty about half-way through the movie and I grope my way down the theater steps to get it re-filled.

Now, I don't really mind doing this, especially when I've seen the movie before, so I'm in a good mood (partially because I find Mickey Rourke extremely attractive in this movie). Unfortunately people can unwittingly (or wittingly) kick that mood in the teeth very easily simply by assuming things. I get to the counter, the girl serving folks is about my age- early 20's. The man in front of me gets a Coke and a bag of popcorn and everything goes off without a hitch.

I get to the counter and smile and say "Coke, please" and push the cup towards her, lid already off.

"Diet coke?" she asks, taking the cup and positioning it under the diet Coke dispenser.

Here's where my face goes from expressing vague Russian-accent-gasm joy to "do you have rocks for brains?" My mind chattered away in my head: "Did I say diet Coke? I'm pretty sure I didn't say diet Coke."

"No. Coke," I repeated plainly and she filled up my cup, slid it back to me and I scuttled away with my brain still talking wildly to me. "I wonder if it's because I'm fat."

Now, I understand that the incident could have been a misunderstanding. Perhaps she didn't hear me (though I doubt it as I am not the soft-spoken type), or maybe she was distracted and didn't hear what I said correctly. But, when you live your life with people taking shots at you right and left, you assume that when someone pulls a gun, there'll be a bullet to follow.

So why do people assume things about fatties? Even when you tell them exactly what you want, they question you. As if you're obviously misstating your wants. The fattie must want diet Coke because she's fat and therefore must be on a diet.

Of course it can go the other way. I've asked for a smaller slice of cake and had the server go "Oh, that's too small for you."

Let me state it plainly... I know what I want. Do not question me when I say I want a small piece of cake or regular Coke. I am not stupid. Do not guess at my lifestyle because you have biases. Period.



Another event happened at the movie theater, this time while I was in line for the restroom. I stood behind a young brunette who was, for the record, thin. I was the last in a line that went out the door (I was holding the door open) until a tall blonde lady strode past me and tapped the brunette on the shoulder.

"Are you in line?" the blonde asked. The brunette nodded and the blonde slid herself between me and the brunette.

Puzzling.

"I'm in line." I said, quickly and the blonde spun around.

"I'm behind you" she said. Well, of course, she obviously wasn't but she got behind me as the line moved up.

My question is a simple one: Why was I not asked if I was in line? She had to walk past me to get to the girl ahead of me. It seems like an obvious thing- when a person is standing behind a person who is standing behind another person who is standing behind another person, et cetera, that is a line, right? Right. I mean, dressed in shorts, a tunic top, and beaded sandals, I'm clearly not the door-woman so why was I invisible to this lady? Why was I ignored, or not seen, or seen but only as someone who wouldn't argue if she took cuts in line? Did she have to pee that bad?

Anyone else have experiences like these?

Big Smiles!
-LexieDi