Fat Girl Politics Revisited

In honor of the "No More Fatties in Restaurants" bill introduced to the Mississippi legislature by Representative W.T. Mayhall, Jr., I am bringing out an old post.

Originally posted on Thursday May 17, 2007:

Fat Girl Politics: We're here. We're fat. We vote. Get used to it.

Fat girls(and boys) and Fat Acceptance supporters in Missippippi, if you aren't registered to vote, go out tomorrow and get it done.

Thank You Alexandra Erin

Sending A Big Fat Kiss and a Big Fat Thank You out to Alexandra Erin because....



It has been so nice to laugh on this very dark day. Thanks to fillyjonk for sending me to T.H.I.N....The Health Institute of Nutrition. I needed to laugh and laugh I did. It is a dark day today because I got word late yesterday that the son of an old friend had completed suicide. He shot himself outside in his yard just a few miles from my mom's house. I got this news upon returning home from spending the day with my deeply depressed 71 year old suicidal mother. My sis and I spent the day trying to cheer her up and taking turns crying in the process.

Twenty seven years ago my sister and I took turns crying when we got word that our dad had killed himself. Mostly I cried. She has always been the strong older sister and more like a mom to me. Suicide has always stalked us....never left us alone for long. My pretty thin mom talked about suicide my whole life. My thin dad blew his brains out when I was 20. I made a serious attempt at 16. I was thin. Thin doesn't equal happiness folks.

And you'd think that by age 47, I'd be used to my mom's frequent depression and suicidal feelings. No. I never get used to it. When I hear her voice crack on the phone before she begins wailing, my stomach drops to my toes. Extreme nausea follows. My sis and I always help each other through it. It makes us so tired sometimes. I'm tired right now. I've been on more or less an informal break from blogging. I'm making that formal. I'll be reading and commenting as I'm able. Might repost some old stuff(not sure if that is allowed in the blogosphere).

I have found blogging a wonderful creative outlet and cathartic, but at times a little dangerous personally. Not since the end of my insight oriented object relations type therapy of 10 years duration have I spent so much time thinking about so many painful things. It is taking a toll on me. I've become more depressed and cried more than I have in years. Panic attacks have started. For the first time in her life my 12 year old daughter has seen me cry off and on for an entire day. I've always hidden my tears from her because I remember how traumatizing my mom's incessant tears and wailing were.

So I'm taking a mental health break. I probably need to have a counselor by my side as I deal with these intense issues. But I'm going to be ok. I'm not about to let the Fat Haters take me out at this point. Things are just getting interesting...MeMe Roth running away from Rachel and Mo and ordering my "I Am Kate Harding" t-shirt. I'll be reading and commenting as I have time. Rock on girls(and boys)!

Blowing you a Big Fat Loving Kiss...

Kat

Lions and Tigers and Bears! Oh My!

Lions and tigers and bears! Oh my!
Lions and tigers and bears! Oh my!

The whole buzz created by the recent New York Times article has caused my anxiety level to go way up. It was already up for a couple of reasons. One of the reasons is being on Notes from the Fatosphere. Anytime I post I can get 100-200 hits on my blog. That might not seem like a lot to most of you, but it is a frighteningly high number of hits for me.

Don't get me wrong, I love feeling like I'm communicating with folks. I don't want readers to go away and leave me alone or anything. I'm deeply appreciative that folks take the time to stop by and read or look around. I hope to connect with a few of you. I dream of encouraging, empowering and comforting you in your journey....especially you young folks.

My journey began a long time ago. I'll be 48 this year. A troubled relationship with food and my body has defined my entire life. I am eating disordered. I've been fat most of my life but was an anorexic and exercise bulimic teen back in the mid 70's. Nobody knew I was sick. It wasn't a known disease back then, at least not in my neck of the woods. I decided a few months ago to write about my experiences and express some long pent up anger and cynicism. Aside from that, I'm not sure what I'm doing here.

I have a couple of fine college degrees but for the most part don't feel like I know much about much. I'm a 47 year old left-handed creative type. Hard facts always escaped me. My memory was never great. But I could describe to you in great detail the original Andy Warhol of Golda Meir I saw at a Late 20th Century Art exhibit that came to my college campus eons ago.

The Warhol wasn't behind a heavy velvet rope or anything. I could have touched it and nobody would have even noticed. I can't remember any of the other artist's names(that would be facts) but I can clearly see in my mind's eye almost every single piece of their work. I went back to that exhibit numerous times and spent hours gazing at all the wonderful stuff. My heart still pounds when I see good art, read good writing, or see exquisite natural beauty. Forget facts.

Speaking of facts, I tried my darnedest in a recent post entitled I'd Rather Have a Good Heart, to digest a short article and pull my troubled thoughts and reaction together about it. It took me about two weeks. And even with that great effort...my absolute best effort...I ran across some discussion about it on another blog called An Unmitigated Catastrophe of Butterflies(really like this blog title and blog by the way). The blog discussion pretty much said my logic was flawed. sigh. It didn't upset me because someone said they liked it and it was well written. That got my 250 pound self jumping up and down. I just need to accept that facts, analysis, and logic aren't my friends.

Without sounding like I'm making excuses, the other reason I've been feeling a lot of anxiety about blogging lately is because of a "roar" that went out a while back. It was a roar about what makes a good writer. Arggg! After reading some of the roar stuff, I decided I had none of the things that make one a good writer. Well, that is all it took to make me feel like an impostor among giants....strong young giants at that....with all their brain cells intact. Will they eventually realize I'm not a good writer or really a writer at all and kick me right off the Notes? Afraid I've always had an impostor syndrome(if there is such a thing).

One of the reasons I don't think I'm a good writer is because grammar, like math, facts, analysis and logic always mystified me. Literature was another story. I LOVED literature. In college I had a required lit class. A crusty old guy taught it. I had heard from a couple of young English professors I knew(from the rowing club we all belonged to) that he was a tough old bird... and not to expect an A. I loved his class. He was highly complementary of my class performance but I got a B. A year later I saw this professor at a snack counter in the student center. He looked at me and shook his head disapprovingly. He said, "Yes. I remember you. You could have gotten an A in my class," and walked off. Weird old guy but I deeply appreciated his words.

I also took a poetry writing class for fun. I love poetry, but unlike literature, I can be easily stumped by a poetry writer's intent and meaning. Even with that, I love the words, the rhythm, and flow of poetry even if I don't always "get it". I learned a lot in the class. I found it very cathartic to write out my feelings. At the end of the course the teacher said I was developing into a strong and talented confessionalist. I wasn't even sure what that was at the time. Again, I was appreciative of his words but I never wrote any more poetry. (Might post some of that poetry eventually if my ADD self can find it in my disorganized mess).

Years before all this I took the required Freshman intro English course. I remember it seemed like we had to write about 100 short papers. A conference with the teacher was required in order to find out the grade we received on our very first paper. I was highly nervous about the meeting. My heart about stopped when I heard the teacher say these words, "I never do this."

My mind raced. I was about to get kicked out of college. I was an impostor. I was a hillbilly. We were backwoods working class folks. Neither of my parents even graduated from high school. I didn't belong at a university. He continued, "I have never given an "A" on a first paper. I just don't do this. But you got an A. Congratulations." I weakly tried explaining that it was a true story....that is why I could do it. It really happened you know. He kept the paper. Sadly, I don't even have a copy of it. Guess what it was about? It was about being fat and how differently I had been treated as a fat vs a skinny person!

I went on to make mediocre grades in the class....barely passed.

So what I'm trying to say is that I'm loving writing....blogging or whatever it is I'm doing here on the Fatosphere. I haven't written in years...haven't had a reason to until now. I wish I could be analytical and post things with masterful logic. I wish I could have Kate's or Meowser's humor and quick wit. I wish I could be a biting feminist. I wish I could be a serious intellectual. I wish I could be a confident grammarian. I'm just not. I'm simply a 47 year old fat person who stumbled upon blogging and is loving belonging to a community of like-minded folks..

I've been through so much stuff that you younger folks are going through. I guess what I want to do is vent, write about my old stuff for catharsis, and be here for you. I want to cheer you on as you blaze the Fat Acceptance trail and do stuff like make it into major newspapers. I think you guys are going to make history. I thoroughly expect some of you to be instrumental in changing the law as we know it. And I'll be here cheering you on...pulling for you every step of the way. Courage ladies(and gents)...courage!!!

Cowardly Lion: "Alright, I'll go in there for Dorothy. Wicked Witch or no Wicked Witch, guards or no guards, I'll tear them apart. I may not come out alive, but I'm going in there. There's only one thing I want you fellows to do."

Tin Man: "What's that?"

Cowardly Lion: "Talk me out of it."

Don't let anybody talk you out of this. It might not be easy. There will be resistance. There will be trolls and worse I predict. But never give up. You have great value and deserve to be treated

with dignity and respect...exactly as you are.

M.A.D. Art

Thought I'd post something fun today. Since we seem to have so many animal lovers around here, I wanted to share one of my favorite artists with you....Mark Durham of M.A.D. Art. USA Weekend Magazine called Mark, "...the next Andy Warhol." He is mostly known for his animal portraits but he also does people. Mark painted a fantastic portrait of our daughter a couple of years ago. Hope you enjoy!

I'd Rather Have a Good Heart

Over the years I've continually beaten myself up over two things...being disorganized and being fat. I have overcome & conquered many things in my life, but never my unruly body or my mess. A recent New York Times article started to stress me a little about both things until I reminded myself of what is personally important in my life. From the article:

"Excessive clutter and disorganization are often symptoms of a bigger health problem. People who have suffered an emotional trauma or a brain injury often find housecleaning an insurmountable task. Attention deficit disorder, depression, chronic pain and grief can prevent people from getting organized or lead to a buildup of clutter. At its most extreme, chronic disorganization is called hoarding, a condition many experts believe is a mental illness in its own right, although psychiatrists have yet to formally recognize it.

Although chronic disorganization is not a medical diagnosis, therapists and doctors sometimes call on professional organizers to help patients. One of them is Lynne Johnson, a professional organizer from Quincy, Mass., who is president of the National Study Group on Chronic Disorganization..... Ms. Johnson says she often sees a link between her client’s efforts to get organized and weight loss. “I think someone decides, ‘I’m not going to live like this anymore. I’m not going to hold onto my stuff, I’m not going to hold onto my weight,’” she said. “I don’t know that one comes before the other. It’s part of that same life-change decision.”


In the article David F. Tolin, director of the anxiety disorders center at the Institute of Living in Hartford and an adjunct associate professor of psychiatry at Yale says about disorganization, “It isn’t a house problem. It’s a person problem. The person needs to fundamentally change their behavior.”

After reading this article and thinking about the fact that I have adult ADD, definitely tend to hoard...especially black knit stretch waist pants, took a severe blow to the head in fourth grade(a story I'll tell later), experienced lots of emotional trauma as a child, have chronic depression, unresolved grief surrounding my dad's suicide, am fat, very messy, etc., I started to let out a Scooby Doo "Rut Roe"!

Judging by this article I most likely have a "person problem" and need the help of a professional...maybe several professionals. I'm guessing I need a minimum of three..a professional organizer, a psychiatrist and an exorcist. The first two are self explanatory. I would need the exorcist to rid me of my dirty fat girl demons. We all know that being fat is a sinful moral failing. To be fat and messy must mean I'm a giant wad of demon possessed pure evil. Lord help me.

If it were only that interesting. In part, I'm messy for the simple reason that the small squeaky clean house I grew up in had all the warmth of a museum. Children played after all their work was done. Our house was spotless 24/7. Flexibility & relaxation didn't exist in my world. Hugs were rare. Laughter was rare. It wasn't fun. I'm determined that my family will not live in a frosty museum.

I like thinking that my house might be a wee bit like an old friend of my mom's. My mom had an unlikely friend named Doris. They were complete opposites...a female odd couple. My mom was the queen of clean. Doris was supremely messy. I loved Doris. She was a tall, lanky, brainy blond who chain smoked and cussed. Today she'd be called a feminist. Back then we called her a women's libber(this was in the 60's & 70's...yeah...I'm gettin' old).



Doris had three kids & three dogs & lived in a nice house on the lake. Her oldest son was a brainy but troubled teenager who road a Harley, dressed like a hippie, had very long hair, and was depressed a lot. His favorite reads were Science Fiction, Kahlil Gibran & naked girly magazines(yes, I peeked). I adored him. In the summer, there would easily be fifteen teens at a time tromping in & out of the house all day. The three dogs also came in & out freely...wet or dry. The place was always an interesting happy comfy wreck. My mom and I spent a lot of time there every summer. I was in heaven.
When my mom would get around Doris, it wouldn't be long before she'd be smoking...like a fiend. Give them an hour together & mom would be joining Doris in the cussing & be laughing her head off. It was fun to watch them smoking together. Doris would be absentmindedly flicking her ashes toward an ashtray. Mostly she just flicked them right onto the floor. Mom would very carefully knock her ashes off into one of the many lightweight aluminum ashtrays strewn about the place. Inevitably I'd find mom washing out the ashtrays & sweeping up the floor.

Getting my uptight, anxious, depressed mom to laugh and have fun was the most precious gift Doris ever gave me. I loved seeing my mom have fun. It was a rare event.

Also, Doris was very intelligent and the only person who ever asked me in earnest what I wanted to be when I grew up. I credit her with giving me the courage to go to college. She believed girls could do anything they wanted, including my mom. She encouraged my mom to stand up for herself, especially to my dad. She pretty much told my mom to get her head out of the sand & pay attention to what my dad was doing.

My dad was doing "the town whore"(that's what all the women in my town called this female type person...she truly did look like a bad drag queen). He kept denying it. Well , with a little encouragement from Doris, Thelma & Louise borrowed themselves a car, donned some wigs & caught my dad with the hag red-handed. Sadly, the discovery lead to my parent's divorce. It was a painful time for all of us. But Doris stood by my mom the whole time. Nowadays they just light up a smoke and have a good chuckle over their excellent PI work.

Doris was & is one of the most generous, loving, hospitable(and messy) people I've ever know in my life. To this day when I see her, I'm 47 and she is in her 70's, she gives me a warm kiss on the cheek & tells me she loves me. And I love Doris with all of my heart. When Doris dies, folks are going to remember her generosity, her robust personality, her bright mind & her hospitality...especially her hospitality to young folks. I'll probably be the only person to remember the cigarette ashes on her floor. Those ashes never said "mess" to me. They were lovely. They spoke of warmth, relaxation, and love.

As I read this article & started to play old failure messages in my head, I remembered Doris, her ashes and her truly good heart. I know I could be neater and healthier and have not entirely ruled out calling upon a professional organizer at some point. But mostly I want to focus on the health of my heart...my inner spiritual heart. I'll be leaving my mess and my possessions behind someday because fat or skinny...neat or messy...I'm gonna' die. I believe the heart lives on forever. I think I'm gonna' stay off the scales, put down the broom and use my time to work on the condition of my heart.

Changes for 2008

I'm changing my blog name(again...MPD?:O). Just dropping the word "Beautiful". My big fat kisses are beautiful and all that, but it's a mouthful to get out when I'm asked my blog name. It's so much quicker & easier to say Big Fat Kiss so Big Fat Kiss it is!

Also deciding to become a "real" blog & open myself up for comments. I will be monitoring all comments. I'm all in favor of publishing opposing or critical views, but any unnecessary negativity, hatefulness or Fat Hating will not be tolerated nor published.

I also want to take this time to clarify what I am and what I am not.

I am a fat acceptance activist. I love & believe in this movement. In the few short months I've been a part of it, it has changed my life. I'm not in love with my body yet. I still have days that I hate my body and wish I had a fairy godmother who'd whack me on the fanny with her wand and make 100 pounds disappear. But I am committed to this thing & have no plans to retreat.

Although I'm a fat acceptance believer, I'm not really a fat acceptance blog. I am interested in so many other topics. I am eating disordered and currently morbidly obese. Although I have been very thin, I have always perceived the world as a fat person. Because of this, any non-fat acceptance topic I cover will be colored by my fat life experience. So if I don't always talk about fat, it doesn't mean I've jumped ship.

Another thing I want people to know about me. I care very much about people, especially women. My heart's desire is to comfort, uplift, encourage, empower, and persuade women in the area of finding peace with their bodies & faces. I also like to try to be funny & make you giggle. Like my dad, I want to be funny but I don't always make the grade. So please overlook any humor that misses the mark. And sometimes I'm awkward about things. I don't always get things out on the page the way it lives in my heart & soul. I always have good motives & intentions but it might not always be readily apparent.

Also, I can lose it and get angry and be inappropriate. My apologies in advance for any inappropriate outbursts. Appropriate outbursts will just have to be handled by the gentle reader. And although I have a BS & an MSSW that I worked hard for & made sacrifices to obtain, I'm not a specialist or expert in anything. At this point in my life I consider my degrees nice expensive pieces of paper. I don't even know where they are at the moment.

I love the Fatosphere & read it & other blogs almost every day. I'm honored to be a part of this movement & the Fatosphere. Some of you guys, especially you real trained writers and grammarians, intimidate me a lot! I'm thrilled to be in the same sphere with you. With that, I'm off to see what I can get into for 2008 and wishing us all a year of setting our faces like a flint against a fat hating world.