[fat] confessions on my own scars, stretch marks, and hairiness

giangie.tumblr.com

My first surgery scars came in high school from putting my shoulder back together after a weird overuse accident. (labral tear-- the tissue that holds the ball and socket in place was torn from the bone) After being misdiagnosed for eight months the three one-inch-long scars felt like battle scars. A year later I had a breast reduction, three pounds and some drainage tubes later I’ve got almost two feet of faint pink scars. I have yet to meet a man who noticed my scars until about a month of pillow talk later… it’s been quite the confidence booster. My other surgery scars are from having my appendix plucked out a few years after that. The scars are consistent with an ovary removal, but luckily it was my appendix that was infected and dying instead. The surgical scars could almost count as battle scars -- except my belly and boobs have faced no trauma.


All along my arms and legs are bug bites. Ants and mosquitoes for the most part, but the occasional family of chiggers or no-see-ums will try to take up residence under a flip flop strap. Many bites have scabbed over, and some have finally left smooth purple discolorations. I haven’t shaved my legs in over four years -- thighs in over six. Luckily the hair is rather blonde and thin, so I don’t need to worry about shaving over bug bites and opening up scabs. I’ve also got my fair share of old scraped knees and shins from work as well as my years of tree climbing and mud pie pancake making in the back yard. Additionally, no guy has noticed my leg hair until I've actually pointed it out to him. Women on occasion have noticed the leg hair.


[cranky] CFF manifesto (in progress)

CFF began as a way for me to post images and articles that spoke to me, without the anger of friend’s parents, or friends, or my parents and relatives, or any other jackasses. It was a way to share the new blog I had started, to contemplate my understanding of the feminist classes I was taking in college. I also needed to reflect on my recent return from Africa, and how feminism related to my trip.

CFF became a place for me to understand that there is more than fat shaming -- there is skinny shaming too, and that I’ve participated in it. Today, I do post mostly about fat shaming, but I make a point of never skinny shaming.


I’ve also reflected a lot on how I’ve felt fat since probably the age of 9 or 10. I hit puberty early (period came at age 10) so I was extra tall and hairy early. I’ve always had wide shoulders, and by 6th grade I was a 36C. I was always bigger than every other girl, and most of the guys. I told myself constantly that I was fat. Middle school (the years of self hate, mean girls, exploring make up, leg shaving, girl on girl hate…) only made my fat feel fatter.

 

[cranky] periods and porta potties, and bullshit at work

A month ago, four hours from home, I arrive at this new work site, 6:45am, bleary-eyed and desperately clutching my nearly empty coffee cup. Turns out we were called in early just for the sake of being early and sorting paperwork, which really only took 20 minutes. By 7:45 my bladder is full of coffee and I have to ask where the restrooms are… only to find out that we had access to porta potties. Perhaps if I walked half a mile up the road to this fancy arena people would be there and let me in to use a real restroom. But that was perhaps. After tucking a just in case tampon into the shorts I’m wearing (which are really my new boyfriend’s extra pair of work shorts) I hand my helmet to one of my female coworkers and head to the row of porta potties. My hands have already touched the gross “community box” of hard hats, borrowed someone’s pen to sign paperwork, and had just touched the door of the porta potty. While trying to keep the bottoms of my shorts from touching the pool of water around my boots, I discover that I have indeed started my period. And I have no where to wash my hands before I use the tampon. Surely comical if anyone had been watching, I managed to keep the shorts out of the puddle and put in the tampon. About to walk out I remember, I still have no where to wash my hands. I clean my hands to the best of my ability with the one-ply, but have no choice but to walk out, grab my hard hat, and get ready to work.

[fat] Fatropolis

Have you ever sat on your kitchen floor, in tears, with the thought that everything in your cabinets is "fat food"? Have you ever drawn a hot bath only to realize you don't fit in the tub? When was the last time you heard snide comments about how your size makes you automatically unattractive? Do you struggle to find both well-fitting and flattering clothes?

Here is proof you aren't alone.

Tracey does a phenomenal job highlighting the absurdities and hypocrisies within our size-discriminating society by flipping the coin and showing thin people as the black sheep, and "hearty" people as the preferred body type. Fatropolis is flooded with advertisements for weight-gain products, television stars feature hearty actors, and there's no shame in second helps or ordering dessert. No need to hide your sweet treat to eat in private to avoid judgmental eyes.

Big really is beautiful. Escape to Fatropolis and fall in love with your body again.

Order Fatropolis on Amazon Here or by clicking the Amazon link on the side of the blog and searching for "Fatropolis" (if you enter through the Amazon link Cranky gets a commission that goes towards paying student loans!)

[cranky] "useless dependent"

I am the useless 23 year old dependent. I cannot find a job, and I'm not looking hard enough. Sometimes when the primary breadwinner loses their job, the child steps up and becomes the primary bread winner. Why hasn't that happened?

Why can't I be more dedicated to filing out dozens of online applications, and even more walk-in local applications? Why am I so disheartened by my lack of application response that I don't want to keep filling out applications? I can count on one hand the number of times I've received a response from a potential employer letting me know they're no longer interested and have found their person. I feel like I'm screaming out into a vast wasteland, and my voice has become hoarse. No one wants me to serve their burgers or stock their shelves. No one wants me to be their administrative assistant. Despite over seven years of employee and volunteer management, no one wants me to oversee a single person or task.

Every time I think we've made up, and I just start to get comfortable again with my father, this comes up. I'm not pulling my weight, I'm only getting more depressed. I'm able to pay my car insurance and student loan payments but not my phone or my medical bills and prescriptions.

I do something wrong, and then my sister or mother does something royally mean and evil-hearted to him, and his only outlet for anger is me.

Yes, I have applied for a job today. No, only one job. I've done more job research, but that doesn't really count.

I want to wait tables for drunk sloppy gross men for $2.13 an hour; I want to mop floors and take out trash for $7.25 an hour; I want to pay all of my bills and pay rent. I don't know what to do. I just can't keep doing this.

[Fat] progress?

Progress is a long long journey. I feel that I've been making progress in terms of both my mental health (depression, anxiety) and my personal acceptance of my body ever since I came back from Ghana. Mental health has had two big hurdles/setbacks in the last year, but I've honesty never felt better about my body than I do these days. However, this week has been incedibly hard. My sister has been struggling for the last two weeks, she took it out on my father, and he took it out on me.
So I'm taking it out on the blog.
Have you ever written a hate-note to yourself? For years I used to just write "fat ugly stupid" and leave it in my underwear drawer or the corner of my desk so that my parents or roommate could never find it. I haven't written one in ages, but I did a few days ago... its almost funny, almost, that this time I wrote "too fat."
I know this is all part of being human. But it hurts so much. And waking up in the morning to find my note the next day just threw me back down again. I have to remember that we are all human, and I am not alone in this. And that if you have ever been here, you are not alone either. It takes time to make progress. And we're here together to make that journey.

[fat] WW, take 2

I restarted Weight Watchers a week ago. The end of last semester of school was absolutely overwhelming, and I enjoyed too much good beer and ice cream. I weighed in at 223 pounds, and somehow lost 4 pounds last week, to 219.
I can't wait to get down to 199, then I'm allowed to open up a big bag of clothes from Ghana, along with my shorts. (muffin top, anyone? haha)

[fat] good news!

Shouldn't have been so hard on myself last night-- I weighed myself, finally, and after 7 tries I was confident that I had lost 3.5 pounds. Honestly, that's the most weight I've lost in one week since I had Typhoid Fever last May.

Last week's goal of walking 10,000 steps a day totally failed. I got to like 7,000ish a day... at least its a start, right? I'm really trying to hold onto the 8 glasses of water a day from the first week. Naturally it means chugging water in the evening after drinking coffee all day... but I'm hydrated. Don't burst my bubble.

[fat] and sad

Its the end of my second week on weight watchers, and I'm afraid to weigh myself. I haven't exceeded my points for the week, and I haven't really eaten the last two days. I've bizarrely not been interested in food at all. If only I could keep this up during the week and not just my lazy weekends.

I feel like my weight will have increased, for absolutely no reason. It seems like that's always the way my body works. Tonight I've been dwelling on Ghana, and last May when I was 50 pounds less than I am now. (Granted, I did have typhoid fever at the time, but it was 50 pounds less than today)

Maybe if I get on the scale it will have gone up. Could I blame it on my wet hair? Was I standing on the scale differently? Maybe my weight has gone down. I almost want to laugh at myself, I feel like this diet is just a trick for maintaining my weight because I will never drop any weight. I swear I'd throw myself a party at 20 pounds lost, I'd have my ass below 200.

[feminist] Miss Representation Film

I just got back from watching "Miss Representation" which was absolutely incredible. Sometimes it takes being slapped in the face before we realize what we're absorbing into our minds, both consciously and subconsciously. I've attached the Trailer.

"Miss Representation brings together some of America's most influential women in politics, news and entertainment, including Condoleezza Rice, Nancy Pelosi, Katie Couric, Rachel Maddow, Margaret Cho, Rosario Dawson and Gloria Steinem to give audiences an inside look at the media's message and depiction of women. The film explores women's under-representation in positions of power by challenging their limited and often disparaging portrayals in the media. Miss Representation takes the stand that the media is portraying women's primary values as their youth, beauty and sexuality - rather than their capacity as leaders."

When was the last time you watched a movie where the star was a woman?
And she wasn't hunting down a man to marry?
Or Laura Croft, taking charge of the world as a badass go-get-um woman wearing not enough clothes?
You're not sure, are you?

[cranky] why is twiggy the ultimate (midwest) american beauty?

My midwest university is obsessed with the double zero, zero, and size 2. It seems as if the only way to be attractive to men and even other women is to be skin-and-bone skinny to the point where we might be afraid you'll pass out at any moment. Entering campus freshman year as a solid size 8 (Marilyn's size, right?) I already felt out of place, and too large to fit in.

Since when did men find it so appealing to fantasize and sleep with twiggy? Why are plump breasts and real hips going out of style faster than disposable water bottles? I feel like if I were a man I would be afraid to sleep with a woman as skinny as Nicole or Kirsten, I might accidentally break them in half. But I guess if you can watch a seemingly anorexic girl in a porno, then why can't you have that in your own life, right?

And I bet that seemingly anorexic girl in the porno doesn't have just a neatly trimmed bikini, she's got it completely shaven bald. So she already looks like she has the body of a pre-pubescent middle schooler, but now she has the vagina to match. Secretly, unbeknownst to men, are they all carrying around pedophile tendencies if they're only attracted to women with bodies of ten year old girls?

[fat] a new diet begins

I've joined weight watchers this week. The online food diary from last semester helped me figure out what I should and shouldn't eat, but somehow weight watchers feels more legitimate?

I have metabolic syndrome, meaning that I have elevated cholesterol, elevated blood sugar, a slow metabolism, elevated blood pressure, and a knack for not ever being able to lose weight. The carrots and hummus diet did nothing. The protein water diet did nothing. So now I'm on to the most legitimate thing I can find online. I weighed in this week at a whopping 220.5 pounds. Standing at just 5 feet and 6 inches tall when I bother to stand straight, my BMI tells me that I'm obese, and that my ideal weight is 125-155. That's 65.5 pounds to lose. And according to my doctor if I don't lose it, I'll be diabetic just like my grandmother. I inherited the huge boobs and bad blood, way to go.

[feminist] mass produced bras and my breast reduction surgery

In response to:

Brumberg, Joan Jacobs. “Breast Buds and the ‘Training’ Bra.” 1977. Women’s Voices, Feminist Visions: Classic and Contemporary Readings, 4^th edition. 249-254.

Before reading this I had no idea that the first bra was created in 1913, “designed simply to flatten,” and that the more current/modern bra came about in the 1930’s (Brumberg 250). The concept of the bra is so new yet so universal now. Mass production and mass media are so influential in society, and the bra is a prime example. With mass production came sizing—A, B, C, D, the infamous DD, and the realm of un-tamed breasts even larger. (As a person who once wore the “more than a DD,” I know firsthand the impossibility of buying a bra in a department store that will be the correct size.) I was still in middle school when I made the transition to “larger than my mother” and up to DD, and had to face the realization that I wasn’t just larger than normal, larger than my peers, but I was freakishly, abnormally larger than society as a whole. For years I wore two minimizer bras at a time in an effort to “tame” my breasts even more, as they continued to grow. I was known as “jugs” for years in high school before I had breast reduction surgery, after which I spent my final year in baggy shirts so that no one would I know that I had “gotten my tits cut off.”  (which to this day people perceive as a “tragedy” despite the fact that it was practically a medical necessity)

The physical pain I had from wearing underwire bras aimed at “taming” my breasts has always led me to wonder why anyone would wear a AAA or AA (or even an A) bra when to me they so obviously don’t need one. But with stores and brands like Victoria’s Secret a AAA girl can wear a bra that makes her look like she has real B-size breasts. (I’ve always wondered how disappointed the boyfriend is once the bra comes off?)