Let's talk about weight, in light of the potentially positive effects of pro-ana websites to the "phenomenon" of doctors refusing to take obese patients. And in light of a conversation I had today at work. And one I had nearly twenty years ago in college. That conversation was with a fellow college student who had recovered from an eating disorder. She raged against fashion models and offered the following scenario: an impressionable teenager sees a picture of an emaciated model hanging on the wall of her boyfriend's room; she can't help but compare herself to the model, to see the model as an ideal. I guess, but that's already a tinderbox situation; the solution is to make the girl less impressionable, not to hide the model (though the boy, too, might want to be more sensitive). Look: you can't blame people for displaying looks or behaviors. You, we have to decide for ourselves to love ourselves the way we are. Models are generally tall; I am 5'1". And as I wrote last week, I wear flats. I wear flats even in the face of the douche bags on Date Lab and other forums balk at the fact that women dare wear flats. I wear flats because I'm secure about myself, not because society in general and men in particular have sent me the message that short is the ideal. I don't wear makeup, not because models and magazines encourage it (and certainly not because the "real guys" the magazines interview say it's okay). Rather than asking magazines and models to tone it down, shouldn't we focus on building ourselves up? If we just keep shifting the ideal, there's always going to be an external ideal. Once we accept ourselves from within, we'll be able to own our own ideal.
I'll get to the conversation I had today at work in a minute, but first I'll tell you about a conversation from a couple of months ago. Someone was railing against the "fat acceptance" culture; if there's anything we in this country don't need to do, it's accept fat. As you can deduce from what I just wrote, I disagreed. From an aesthetic perspective. I'm all over 'big is beautiful,' but I'm not going to pretend that at some level, big isn't inherently unhealthy. And impractical. I rolled my eyes at the rejected new patient in the video; I don't blame the doctor for not wanting to deal with her at the expense of her staff, who have experienced injuries on account of overweight patients. I know of emergency responders who have been permanently injured in the process of coming to the aid of overweight people. I've worried about my own overweight friends who are insufficiently mobile to get out of a dangerous situation, should one occur. It's not unlike dealing with smokers: I don't judge you, but you come with natural consequences that I don't want to deal with. For example, I don't want my spaces smelling like smoke. It's not shaming; it's acknowledging that there are practical consequences to being overweight. I don’t blame a doctor who’s concerned about her staff’s safety, and I don’t blame airlines for charging for two seats when people require two seats. There's acceptance and there's accommodation. And there’s evidence that non-accommodation works. I’ve heard from people that it can be a wake-up call, a sign that something’s got to give.
***
Onto the second conversation, which, though technically happened "at work," really happened at the gym. It's not a coincidence that, of the handful of colleagues who commented on my
weight loss, all but a few did so at the gym. Two did so outside of work (i.e., they're also outside-of-work friends), and one is enough of a friend that it wasn't weird. But the work people whom I don't know that well, who have said something, said something at the gym, where it’s understandably more reasonable to draw notice to people’s changes in weight.
Even at the gym, there are, as I wrote in November, right and wrong ways to comment on someone’s weight loss. “Are you even tinier?” fits into the right category because it doesn't make you feel that your “before” state was one of ginormousness. The same woman who said that then approached me again today and asked whether I’d lost even more weight (yes, probably another 10 pounds since she last asked). Was I done, she asked? I shrugged, told her I wasn’t trying, hadn’t been for a while. She expressed (genuine) concern, said I didn’t want to go “too skinny.” I reassured her that I still had a few pounds to spare before I’d have to worry about that (I even lifted my shirt to expose my mid-riff so as to demonstrate). I also reassured her that I, myself, wasn't interested in being "too skinny." When I see models like those in the androgynous slide show I posted the other day, I think "ugh," not "ooh, ten more pounds to go!" (See what I wrote above about honoring our own ideals).
Nonetheless, she asked whether I had someone to warn me if I were to get too thin. I said I hadn’t thought about it, but that she was welcome to—that I wouldn’t be offended of she expressed concern. And I won’t be. But what could I do?? I wouldn't exercise less; I exercise because I want to, not because I want to lose weight, and I eat whatever I want. I’m not willing to force myself to eat more than I want—that’s something I’ve trained myself not to do, and I’m not willing to unlearn. I certainly have no interest in consuming meat or dairy or junkfood. As of now, I still have several pounds' worth of cushion, and plenty of muscle.
This woman isn't the first to suggest that I quit losing weight. Another friend (who takes enormous amount of pride in being thin and takes it very seriously) also told me it was time to stop. I also told her I wasn't doing anything (except for eating lots of carbs, which she eschews at all costs).
I bring this up in the context of my visit to my parents later this week: people are warning me that I'm on the verge of emaciation; will mom still manage to tell me that I've gained weight? Tune in.
Even at the gym, there are, as I wrote in November, right and wrong ways to comment on someone’s weight loss. “Are you even tinier?” fits into the right category because it doesn't make you feel that your “before” state was one of ginormousness. The same woman who said that then approached me again today and asked whether I’d lost even more weight (yes, probably another 10 pounds since she last asked). Was I done, she asked? I shrugged, told her I wasn’t trying, hadn’t been for a while. She expressed (genuine) concern, said I didn’t want to go “too skinny.” I reassured her that I still had a few pounds to spare before I’d have to worry about that (I even lifted my shirt to expose my mid-riff so as to demonstrate). I also reassured her that I, myself, wasn't interested in being "too skinny." When I see models like those in the androgynous slide show I posted the other day, I think "ugh," not "ooh, ten more pounds to go!" (See what I wrote above about honoring our own ideals).
Nonetheless, she asked whether I had someone to warn me if I were to get too thin. I said I hadn’t thought about it, but that she was welcome to—that I wouldn’t be offended of she expressed concern. And I won’t be. But what could I do?? I wouldn't exercise less; I exercise because I want to, not because I want to lose weight, and I eat whatever I want. I’m not willing to force myself to eat more than I want—that’s something I’ve trained myself not to do, and I’m not willing to unlearn. I certainly have no interest in consuming meat or dairy or junkfood. As of now, I still have several pounds' worth of cushion, and plenty of muscle.
This woman isn't the first to suggest that I quit losing weight. Another friend (who takes enormous amount of pride in being thin and takes it very seriously) also told me it was time to stop. I also told her I wasn't doing anything (except for eating lots of carbs, which she eschews at all costs).
I bring this up in the context of my visit to my parents later this week: people are warning me that I'm on the verge of emaciation; will mom still manage to tell me that I've gained weight? Tune in.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment