Why I'm a Fat Blogger

Sarah of NotBlueAtAll was kind enough to ask me to participate in a video project for her upcoming Fatty Affair. Unfortunately she didn't get the participation she needed, so the project had to be scrapped. The video was still made however, and I thought you guys might like to see it.
The video was supposed to be about two minutes on why I'm a fat blogger, and here it is; Why I'm a Fat Blogger.



 

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Ja, jeg sa "feit".

Som noen av dere sikkert la merke til, brukte jeg ordet "feit" i overskriften i mitt seneste innlegg. Min bruk av ordet "feit" er veldig bevisst, og jeg vil gjerne få dele noen av tankene mine rundt dette valget, men jeg tror først det er på sin plass med en liten oppfrisking av gammel kunnskap: Ordene "feit" og "tjukk" er adjektiver, beskrivende ord uten noen form for moralsk vedheng, på samme måte som "slank", "høy" og "lav" er det.

Fra kroppsakseptbevegelsens begynnelse har det engelske ordet "fat", på norsk "tjukk" eller "feit", blitt aktivt brukt. Dette var et bevisst valg, for å ta tilbake et ord som de aller fleste hadde negative konnotasjoner til, men som i sin egentlige form kun er en beskrivelse, og som for mange av oss er det eneste ordet som faktisk passer. Å ta tilbake ordet "feit" har også den konsekvensen at dette breiale lille ordet ikke lenger kan brukes til å såre. Bare tenk på det, hvis "feit" inne i hodet ditt ikke lenger er et annet ord for "lat," "dum," "stygg" og "ekkel", men i stedet kun betyr "feit", er det vanskelig å føle seg såret når noen kaller deg feit. Misforstå meg rett, det er meget enkelt å merke forskjellen på en person som bruker ordet "feit" som en beskrivelse og en som bruker det som en fornærmelse, men det er likevel sånn at "tjukkas" mister mye av slagkraften når man ikke ser på det å være feit som noe negativt. Personlig har jeg kommet såpass langt på veien mot kroppsaksept at jeg her om dagen leste en kommentar ei dame hadde kommet med til ei anna dame, hvor hun kalte henne ei "feit tispe" (engelsk: "fat bitch"), hvorpå jeg fullstendig glemte at ordet "feit" var ment som en del av fornærmelsen, og kun tenkte: ""Tispe" var ikke en hyggelig ting å kalle noen!"
Dette er grunnen til at jeg gikk fra å bruke "tjukk" til å beskrive meg selv, til å begynne å bruke "feit". Hvis målet mitt er å ta fra ordene "feit" og "tjukk" kraften til å såre, er det viktig at jeg forsøker å "frigjøre" det ordet som blir sett på som det mest fornærmende. Kan du forestille deg hvor mye bedre vi kunne gjort livene til, f.eks, feite barn, hvis vi som samfunn sluttet å se på det å være feit som noe negativt? For all del, hvis du er på begynnerstadiet av din reise mot kroppsaksept kan det være et stort steg å bruke "tjukk" for å beskrive deg selv, så bruk gjerne det ordet som "støttehjul" en stund. Personlig håper jeg allikevel du vil ende opp med å bruke "feit," tro meg når jeg sier at det både er utrolig deilig å ikke være redd for dette ordet, og at det fører til mange morsomme situasjoner i møte med andre mennesker.

En tanke som ikke er så utbredt i dagens samfunn, er at individer skal ha den hele og fulle retten til å definere hvem de selv er, selvfølgelig inkludert hvilke ord det er greit å bruke for å definere dem. Jeg tror kroppsakseptbevegelsen har hentet dette prinsippet fra den skeive frigjøringsbevegelsen, hvor dette, forståelig nok, er er en viktig rettighet. Når man begynner å tenke på denne idéen virker den ganske åpenlys; selvfølgelig har du selv rett til å definere hvem du selv er. Det er for meg naturlig å tro at den eneste grunnen til at mange folk ikke tenker slik, er at de aldri har tenkt aktivt over det før. Det er p.g.a. dette prinsippet at du aldri kommer til å se meg definere andre privatpersoner som feite, med mindre de selv ønsker at dette ordet blir brukt om dem.
Selv bruker jeg som sagt ordet "feit" når jeg beskriver meg selv, selv om jeg også godtar "tjukk." Det velbrukte ordet "overvektig" er jeg derimot en sterk motstander av (Over hvilken vekt, om jeg tør spørre?), da det helt klart indikerer at det er en korrekt vekt å være på. Du bør også unngå "fyldig" og andre liknende ord. Disse ordene er kodeord for "feit" eller "lubben," som regel brukt av folk som føler det nødvendig å pakke inn at jeg er feit (og siden vi nå vet at det ikke er negativt å være feit, er jo ikke dét nødvendig).

Som Hermine Grang ville sagt: "Frykten for navnet øker frykten for tingen selv."

Big Dee Irwin - Happy Being Fat
As I'm sure some of you noticed, I used the word "fat" in the headline of my latest post. My use of the word "fat" is very deliberate, and I would like to share some of my thoughts surrounding this choice, but first I think a small refresher of old knowledge is in order: The word "fat" is a descriptor, an adjective completely free of moral attachments, just like "slender," "tall," and "short" is.

Since the dawn of the Fat Acceptance movement, the word "fat" has been used actively. This was a conscious choice, to reclaim a word that most people associated with something bad, but that in its true form is simply a descriptor, and that for many of us is the only word that really fits. Reclaiming the word "fat" also removes the power to hurt from this funny, little word. Just think about it, if "fat" is no longer is another word for "lazy," "stupid," "ugly," and "disgusting" in your head, but instead simply means "fat," it's difficult to feel hurt when someone calls you fat. Don't get me wrong, it is very easy to notice the difference between someone using the word "fat" as a descriptor and someone using it as an insult, still it's true that "fatty" loses much of its punch when one no longer views being fat as a negative thing. Personally I've traveled far along down the road to Fat Acceptance that, when I the other day read a comment one woman had made to another woman, calling her a "fat bitch," I completely forgot that the word "fat" was meant to be part of the insult, and only thought, ""Bitch" really isn't a nice thing to call someone!"

A thought that isn't widely spread in today's society, is that individuals should have complete power to define who they themselves are, including, of course, which words it is okay to use to describe them. I think the Fat Acceptance movement has taken this principle from the queer liberation movement, where this, quite understandably, is an important right. When you start thinking about this idea though, it seems pretty obvious; of course you have the right to define who you are. I find it natural to believe that the only reason why many people don't think this way, is that they've never actively thought about it before. It is because of this principle that you'll never see me define another private individual as fat, unless they want this word to be used about them.
I clearly use the word "fat" when describing myself. The well-worn word "overweight" on the other hand, I am a strong opponent of (Over which weight, if I may ask?), as it clearly indicates that there's a correct weight to be at. And don't even get me started on "obese"! American media has taken to describing fat people as "the obese," not even bothering to mention that we're fat people, not just fat bodies. "Obesity" is of course a medical term first, and as I refuse to be pathologized for simply having a body that doesn't look like the current ideal, this is absolutely not a word with which I choose to define myself. You should also avoid words like "plump," "curvy," and, dear god, "juicy." Words like that are code-words for "fat" or "chubby," usually used by people who find it necessary to tiptoe around the word "fat" (and since we now know being fat isn't a negative thing, that certainly isn't something one needs to do).

In the words of Hermione Granger: "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

OOTD: Climate change, you treat me so well!

I've gone over and over this; do I want to do Outfit Of The Day posts? Won't putting a picture to my name open me up to scary people? I'm not really that into clothes, so why would anyone care what I wear? In the end it comes down to this: There's a reason fat activists keep insisting it's a radical act just to be fat in public. Fat people are constantly pushed to make themselves less visible. We're told we're hard to look at, and if we insist on joining the world outside our front door, we should at least have the decency to wear something that will make it easier to not notice us. I want to fight against this! And, if I want to join the fight for fat visibility, I have to actually be visible (I've got fat down). In addition to this, I just don't think there are enough pictures of Norwegian fatties out there.

I present to you, my first OOTD:

Me, sporting the double, er, triple chin, and goofily/coyly waving hello.

Pretending to be sunbathing, and trying not to laugh at my posing.

Squinting at my photographer, who decided to go pro and take my picture from below.

Bonus picture! Model pose!
All photographs taken by D.

Om meg:
Height: 5'6"
Weight: Ca 255lbs
Size: 16/18 top, 18/20 bottom
Age: 25



What I'm wearing:

Top: Forever21+

Jeggings: Asos Curve

Sunglasses: RayBan

Wedge heels: Økonomisko

Strapless bra (that pinches): Bravissimo

There's a couple of reasons why I love this outfit. Firstly, I love the pattern, colors, and lace yoke on this top! So much, that I bought it despite the fact that I usually avoid trapeze tops like they're trying to sell me the latest fad diet book. And this top, in my mind, was meant to be paired with these amazing Asos Curve jeggings from last season. Which brings me to the main reason why I love this outift; it breaks so many rules! Apart from my own no trapeze tops rule, it breaks the 'fat girls shouldn't wear sleeveless tops' rule; the 'fat girls shouldn't wear j/leggings' rule; and the 'jeggings aren't pants (especially not on fat girls)!' rule. I'm a rebel, people! Seriously though, it's amazing to me to think that, this time last year, combining a sleeveless top and jeggings in an outfit like this wouldn't even have crossed my mind, and despite of this, today this outfit had me walking around just strutting my stuff.

So, that was my first OOTD. What did you think?

PSA: hey, fat chick!

Det er en blogg på tumblr som heter hey, fat chick! og du bare må følge med på den!! Jeg tilbragte over en time med å gå igjennom den her om dagen, og mens jeg satt der kunne jeg føle hjernen min skrede et steg videre på Fat Acceptance veien.
Jeg har på en måte blitt vant til bilder av dagens antrekk på tjukkaser gjennom Fatshionista LJ samfunnet og Fatshionista gruppen på flickr, og det skal sies at det er noe av det samme på hey, fat chick! Det er allikevel et klart hakk over på radikal-skalaen, og det hakket er et utrolig kult hakk! Inne i hjernen min gikk FA utfordringene mine fra: Jeg synes det er vanskelig å vise frem overarmene og knærne mine. Til: Jeg sliter med tanken på å bruke bikini. Et klart steg i riktig retning, er dere ikke enig?


definatalie's description: Outfit photo of me, fat and pale skinned, wearing a dark blouse with a pussy bow in a small floral print with hints of red, white and orange tucked into a black maxi skirt. I'm wearing some black cage sandals and carrying a black bag.

There is a blog on tumblr called hey, fat chick! and you just have to follow it!! I spent over an hour browsing through it the other day, and while I was sitting there I could feel my brain take a step further down the road to Fat Acceptance.
I've kind of gotten used to Outfit Of The Day pictures with fat folks in them, through the Fatshionista LJ comm and the Fatshionista group on flickr, and hey, fat chick! does have some of the same content. It is still a clear step up on the radical ladder, and that step is a really cool step! Inside my brain my FA challenges went from: It's difficult for me to show my upper arms and knees. To: I struggle with the thought of wearing a bikini. A definite move in the right direction, wouldn't you agree?

You are good enough

You are good enough.


You are good enough for life.

You are good enough to be loved.

You are good enough to love.

You are good enough for sex.

You are good enough not to have sex.

You are good enough for food.

You are good enough for the gym.

You are good enough for however many 'lazy days' you want.

You are good enough to speak.

You are good enough to be heard.

You are good enough for respect.

You are good enough to afford to be respectful.

You are good enough to deserve to cry and feel pain.

You are good enough to deserve to laugh and be happy.

You're human. You're not perfect. But you're good enough.



Du er bra nok.


Du er bra nok for livet.

Du er bra nok til å bli elsket.

Du er bra nok til å elske.

Du er bra nok for sex.

Du er bra nok til ikke å ha sex.

Du er bra nok for mat.

Du er bra nok for treningsstudioet.

Du er bra nok for så mange "late dager" du ønsker deg.

Du er bra nok til å tale.

Du er bra nok til å bli hørt.

Du er bra nok for respekt.

Du er bra nok til å ha råd til å vise respekt.

Du er bra nok til å fortjene å gråte, og føle smerte.

Du er bra nok til å fortjene å le, og være lykkelig.

Du er menneskelig. Du er ikke perfekt. Men du er bra nok.



Today's inspiration was http://stophatingyourbody.tumblr.com // Dagens inspirasjon kom fra http://stophatingyourbody.tumblr.com

A Scene ...

Trigger warning // Advarsel om utløsende innhold:
Below I write about dieting and disordered eating, and the struggle to quit these behaviors. // Under skriver jeg om slanking og forstyrret spising, og kampen for å slutte med denne typen oppførsel.


We open on a dimly lit room, filled with rows of chairs that are facing in the same direction. Most of the chairs are filled with people who are fat, to some degree or another, a small number of the chairs are filled with skinny people, and an even smaller number are vacant. As a peppy woman ends an opening statement, one of the fluorescents lighting the room blinks a couple of times, before seemingly deciding to go on shining a while longer. The peppy woman, who is facing the people in the chairs, rounds up her little speech with a question.
Peppy woman: Does anyone have anything to share?
The room is silent for a couple of short moments, and then a woman with lots of red, curly hair raises her arm. The peppy woman gestures to her, before taking her seat in the front row. The curly haired woman moves toward the front of the room, and now that she is upright we can all see that she is one of the many fatties present. She is dressed in green and black, has a slight blush to her cheeks, and seems to be fat in a figure eight shaped way. When she arrives at the front of the room she faces the small crowd, and gives a small smile before she starts speaking.
Curly haired woman: Hello, my name is Veronica, and I am a dieter.
Crowd: Hi Veronica!
Veronica: I haven't been to a meeting in a while, but I am here today, because last night I realized that I had fallen off the wagon.
She holds up her 1st day pin.
Veronica: It's the same old story I suppose; I was doing fine, the circumstances of my life changed, and suddenly I wasn't doing so fine any longer. The reason it took me a while to figure out what was going on, was that I honestly didn't do it to lose weight.
Some of the people in the crowd look skeptical, but seem to be convinced by her earnest expression.
Veronica: What I did, was that I fell back into my old pattern of eating. And that old pattern mounts up to diet behavior. I've decided to try harder this time to remember that this is difficult, and to attend meetings a lot more often.
As she mentions how difficult it it, a few the people in the crowd nod empathically.
Veronica: I wish it wasn't so difficult for me, you know? It seems kind of an idiotic thing to be struggling with; eating what, and as much as, my body needs. And ... it makes me angry. It makes me angry with myself, with some of the people in my life, and with society at large, for making it so hard for me to just love myself as I am! But I won't stop. No, I will not stop. And hopefully, one day when I stand in front of you, I'll be able to tell you that not feeding myself has stopped being my default behavior. She takes a steadying breath. Thanks for letting me share.
A smattering of applause follow her last sentence. The curtain falls.
__________________________________________________________________________

Vi åpner til et dunkelt belyst rom fylt med rader med stoler, som alle er vendt i den samme retningen. De fleste av stolene er fylt med mennesker som er feite i større eller mindte grad, et lite antall stoler er fylt med tynne mennesker, og et enda mindre antall er tomme. Idet en entusiastisk kvinne avslutter åpningsinnlegget sitt, blinker ett av lystoffrørene som lyser opp rommet et par ganger, før det tilsynelatende bestemmer seg for å fortsette å skinne en stund til. Den entusiastiske kvinnen som står vendt mot menneskene i stolene, avslutter den lille talen sin med et spørsmål.
Entusiastisk kvinne: Er det noen som har noe de vil dele?
Rommet er stille et par korte øyeblikk, og så rekker en kvinne med store mengder rødt, krøllete hår opp armen. Den entusiastiske kvinnen gestikulerer til henne, før hun setter seg ned i setet sitt på første rad. Kvinnen med det krøllete håret beveger seg mot enden av rommet, og nå som hun er oppreist kan vi alle se at hun er en av de mange tilstedeværende tjukkasene. Hun er kledt i grønt og svart, er lett lyserød i kinnene, og ser ut til å være en 8-talls formet tjukkas. Da hun er på plass i enden av rommet vender hun seg mot forsamlingen, og smiler et lite smil, før hun begynner å snakke.
Kvinnen med det krøllete håret: Hei, jeg heter Veronica, og jeg er en slanker.
Forsamling: Hei Veronica!
Veronica: Jeg har ikke vært på et møte på en stund, men jeg er her i dag, fordi i går gikk det opp for meg at jeg hadde falt av "vannvogna".
Hun holder opp 1. dags nålen.
Veronica: Det er vel den samme gamle historien: Det gikk bra med meg, så forandret omstendighetene i livet mitt seg, og plutselig gikk det ikke så bra med meg lenger. Grunnen til at det tok meg en stund å oppdage hva som foregikk, var at jeg helt ærlig ikke gjorde det for å gå ned i vekt.
Noen av menneskene som er tilstede ser skeptiske ut, men de ser ut til å bli overbevist av det åpne og ærlige uttrykket hennes.
Veronica: Det jeg gjorde, var at jeg falt inn i mitt gamle spisemønster. Og dette gamle spisemønsteret er det samme som slanking. Jeg har bestemt meg for å prøve hardere å huske at dette er vanskelig, og å gå på møter oftere.
Da hun nevner hvor vanskelig det er, er det noen av menneskene i forsamlingen som nikker anerkjennende.
Veronica: Jeg skulle ønske det ikke var så vanskelig for meg. Det virker som en så teit ting å ha problemer med; å spise det kroppen trenger, og så mye som den trenger. Og... det gjør meg sint. Det gjør meg sint på meg selv, på noen av menneskene i livet mitt, og på samfunnet generelt, for å bidra til at det føles så vanskelig for meg å elske meg selv slik jeg er! Men jeg kommer ikke til å slutte å prøve. Nei, jeg skal ikke slutte. Og forhåpentligvis kommer jeg en dag til å kunne stå foran dere, og helt ærlig fortelle dere, at det som føles nturlig for meg ikke lenger er å ikke gi meg selv mat. Hun trekker pusten dypt. Takk for at dere har latt meg dele.

Spredt applaus følger den siste setningen hennes. Teppet faller.

How life wests and Fat Acceptance connect



I am fat. I am many other things as well; female; Norwegian; an avid reader, all of these things describe me as a person, just as fat does. Which is why people who attack Fat Acceptance confuse and hurt me. Listen, the core of Fat Acceptance is easy, it's about acceptance of fat and fat people. Acceptance. It doesn't seem like so much to ask to me. Because what is the alternative? The interwebz tells me the opposite of acceptance is; refusal; rejection; disapproval.
Refusal is difficult, you can only live in denial for so long, and even then you can't actually refuse or deny your fat away.
Rejection, a tactic used by many a fat person. "I reject this fat, I reject this fat body!" As any person with a healthy body image will tell you, this is not the smartest tactic to adopt. You end up doing idiotic things like not going to the doctor when you're sick or hurt, or not eating when you're hungry, or not doing things that make you feel good, whether that is something basic like taking a shower or something more extravagant like getting a massage.
Disapproval is, of course, a widespread way of approaching one's own fat and fat body. Disapproval or it's more forceful counterparts loathing and downright hatred, is really not a fun way to feel about one's body or oneself. Actually, 'it is a truth universally acknowledged'* that we should love ourselves. We are encouraged to do this by everyone from glossy magazines to our mothers (I hope). And love is such a strong feeling, acceptance is a weakling compared to a feeling as strong as love. Really, loving something or someone without at least accepting it/them sounds pretty darn difficult. Maybe these requests to love yourself only applies unless you're fat, but I choose to belive that, that is not the case. And this is where we come full circle, because you can't tell me to love myself, and then attack me for being fat accepting. Fat Acceptance is not "an excuse to give up", as is sometimes claimed, it is the only way for fat people to live good lives. Indeed, sometimes it is the only way for fat people to live at all.

Jeg er feit. Jeg er mange andre ting også - kvinne, norsk, en ivrig leser - alle disse tingene beskriver meg som person, på samme måte som feit gjør det. Hvilket er grunnen til at jeg blir forvirret og såret når jeg støter på mennesker som angriper Fat Acceptance. Hør her, kjernen i Fat Aceptance er enkel, det handler om aksept av fett og feite mennesker. Aksept. Det virker ikke som for mye forlangt for meg. For hva er alternativet? Internett forteller meg at det mostatte av å akseptere noe er å avslå, avvise, vrake og vegre seg.
Å avslå fettet ditt eller din feite kropp er vanskelig. Joda, du kan fornekte at du er feit, men på ett eller annet tidspunkt funker ikke det lenger, og i mellomtiden var du allikevel feit.
Å avvise fettet eller ens feite kropp er, dessverre, en taktikk som brukes av mang en tjukkas. Men, som jeg tror enhver av dere som leser dette som har et nogenlunde greit forhold til deres egen kropp umiddelbart innser, å avvise sin egen kropp er ikke akkurat den sunneste veien å gå. Man ender opp med å gjøre idiotiske ting som å ikke gå til legen når man er syk eller såret, eller å ikke spise når man er sulten, eller å ikke gjøre ting som får deg til å føle deg bra, enten det er noe enkelt som å ta en dusj, eller noe mer ekstravagant som å  gå og få en massasje.
En enda mer dramatsik versjon av å avvise fettet er å vrake det. Det virker unødvendig å forklare hvorfor det å vrake sin egen kropp ikke er en god idé, for uten en kropp kan man jo tross alt ikke leve.
Å vegre seg er igjen. Dette er, selvfølgelig, en utbredt følelse tjukkaser, og andre, føler ovenfor fett og feite kropper. Mange av oss tar det også et steg eller to videre, og ender opp med følelser som avsky eller hat. Ingen av disse følelsene er ønsket, om målet er gode borgere og/eller lykkelige mennesker. Og det virker som om dette er målet, for hvor jeg snur og vender meg ser jeg råd om hvordan jeg kan forbedre livet mitt, bli en bedre borger og et lykkeligere menneske. Et av rådene, og et som gjentas om og om igjen fra mange, mange forskjellige kilder, er: "Elsk deg selv!" Og kjærlighet er en utrolig sterk følelse, aksept er en pingle av en følelse sammenliknet med kjærlighet. Når man tenker over det, høres det å elske noe eller noen uten å i det minste akseptere det/dem relativt vanskelig ut. Kanskje disse oppfordringene til å elske en selv bare teller med mindre man er feit, men jeg velger å tro at det ikke er tilfellet. Her har vi sirklet tilbake til begynnelsen, for hvordan kan du be meg om å elske meg selv, for så å angripe meg for å være "Fat Accepting". Fat Acceptance er ikke "en unnskylding for å gi opp" som bevegelsen innimellom anklages for, det er den eneste måten for feite mennesker å leve gode liv. Ja, noen ganger er det den eneste måten for feite mennesker å leve.

Having written this, I want to tell you a little story about one of the ways Fat Acceptance has changed my life. Here in Norway it is quite a common occurence for people to own cabins in addition to their houses or apartments, and my family is no exception. Our cabin is located in a woodland surrounding, with a 5-10 minute walk to the ocean, where, as many other owners of "seaside" cabins, we have a boat docked. To take this boat out, Norwegain laws require us to either wear a life west or keep it in the boat with us. As some of you will know, life wests have traditionally** come in different versions for people of different weights, ending at about 210 pounds. Do I weigh more than 210 pounds? Yes, about 40 more, as a matter of fact. Did I then, sensibly enough, go out in search of a life west that would be appropriate for a person of my weight? No, I did not. What did I decide to do in stead? Take one or two of the ones for 210 pound people, and cross my fingers nothing would happen.
Listen, I am the first person to admit that this is Stupid with a capital S. However, loathing myself the way I did for being fat, drawing attention to the fact that I was/am heavier than even Norwegian men are supposed to be, was something I could not have brought myself to do. Fat Acceptance has allowed me to stop being so incredibly ashamed of myself that I couldn't have asked a sales person at a sporting goods store for a special life west. It has also allowed me to start loving myself enough to feel that crossing my fingers is not an adequate way of ensuring my own security. Both of these, in my opinion, are pretty good things. And they both contribute to why, when I hear people say Fat Acceptance is bad for me, I don't only think they're wrong, I know they are.

What about you, do you have any stories that make Fat Acceptance seem like the obvious and only choice? Would you care to share?

Etter å ha skrevet dette, har jeg lyst til å fortelle dere en liten historie om én av måtene Fat Acceptance har forandret livet mitt på. Som mange andre av Norges innbyggere, eier min familie en hytte. Denne hytta ligger i skoglige omgivelser, med en 5-10 minutters gåtur ned til sjøen, hvor båten vår ligger fortøyd. Som de aller fleste av dere helt sikkert vet, er det påbudt å ha på seg, eller med seg, en redningsvest ombord i båt. Noe jeg vil tro også er ganske kjent, er at det tradisjonelt sett** har vært forskjellige versjoner av redningsvester avhengig av hvor mye personen som skal ha den på seg veier, og at disse kategoriene vanligvis har sluttet på ca 95kg. Veier jeg mer enn 95kg? Ja, ca 15kg mer faktisk. Gikk jeg derfor, fornuftig nok, ut og lette etter en redningsvest som ville vært riktig for min vekt? Nei, det gjorde jeg ikke. Hva bestemte jeg meg for å gjøre i stedet? Ta med meg en eller to av vestene for 95 kilos mennesker, og krysse fingrene for at ingenting skulle skje med meg.
Hør her, jeg er den første til å innrømme at dette er Dumt med en stor D. Men om man avskyr seg selv så sterkt som jeg gjorde for å være feit, kan det å trekke oppmerksomheten mot det at jeg var/er tyngre enn den gjennomsnittlige norske mann "skal" være, føles som noe umulig. Fat Acceptance har tillat meg å slutte å skamme meg så mye over meg selv, at jeg ikke hadde fått meg til å be en ansatt i en sportsforretning om en spesiell redningsvest. Det har også tillat meg å begynne å elske meg selv nok, til at jeg ikke lenger føler at det å krysse fingrene er en god nok måte å holde meg selv trygg på. Begge disse er gode ting, synes jeg selv. Og de bidrar begge til at jeg, når jeg hører folk si at Fat Acceptance ikke er bra for meg, ikke bare tror de tar feil, jeg vet de tar feil.

Hva med deg, har du noen historier som får Fat Acceptance til å virke som et helt åpenbart valg? Lyst til å fortelle dem?


Major props go to Spilt Milk for writing the piece that clarified for me many of the points I make in this post. / All mulig ære til Spilt Milk som skrev innlegget som klarte opp for meg mange av poengene jeg skriver om i dette innlegget.

________________________________________________________
* If you get that Jane Austen reference, I love you!
** Having done a brief search online, this seems not to be the case any longer. / Etter et kort søk på nettet ser det ut til at dette ikke lenger er tilfellet.

My Body and I

I don't know when it happened, this strange thing of me separating myself from my body. When I started looking in the mirror, and, in stead of simply seeing me, I saw myself and my body. I suppose it happened while I was gaining weight, while my body was expanding without me giving my consent. It makes sense in a way; if you don't feel like you can control what your body does, is it really a part of you?
I know I am far from the only person, let alone the anly fatty, who feels this way. And who can blame us really? When you are fat, people are constantly expecting you to fight your body. "Fight the bulge!" "Manage your weight!" "Battle those pounds!" This becomes slightly more abstract, but no less real, in the language of the "obesity epidemic". Fat is something to be afraid of, something to avoid, something that is to blame for current and future problems in our society.



Now, knowing this, it shouldn't come as a big surprise when fat people end up distancing themselves from their bodies. After all, their bodies are fat, and fat = bad. Who would want to identify so closely with something bad? Well, I didn't. But lately I'm starting to remember something I once knew. My body and I are not two separate units of the same entity, we are one. I am my ass; my thighs; my fingers, in the same way that I am my mind; my voice; the way I move. Change may come, sure, but that change won't just affect a part of me, it will affect me.

While I have been reclaiming my body, I have realized that there is something else I must also claim. You see, if my body is me, then the critizism directed at it is mine to own as well. My brain has taken to translating this critizism as of late, so:
"Wouldn't you be happier if you lost some weight?" is transformed on it's journey from my ears to my brain into "Wouldn't you be happier if there was less of you?"
"I read an article about this awesome new diet the other day" becomes "There's too much of you, you really should try to make yourself smaller."
"You didn't use to have to worry about fitting into the seats on planes..." becomes "You take up so much room, I think it would be better if you tried to minimize yourself."
             Please understand that when you tell me to lose weight, you are not just saying it to my ass, or my thighs, or my fingers, you are telling me to become less. And I don't want to be less, I want to be more! I have spent so much time hiding, trying to be invisible, to be less than I am, and now I want to be more! I want so much to be more me!

All I'm asking of you, is that you don't make it any harder than it already is.

Kroppen min og jeg

Jeg vet ikke når det skjedde, dette rare at jeg begynte å se på kroppen min som noe separat fra meg selv. På hvilket tidspunkt var det at jeg så meg i speilet, og i stedet for å se meg, så jeg meg og kroppen min. Jeg tror at det skjedde mens jeg la på meg, mens kroppen min ble større uten at jeg hadde gitt den tillatelse til det. Det virker logisk på et vis; hvis du ikke føler at du har kontroll over hva kroppen din gjør, er den da en del av deg?
Jeg er langt ifra den eneste personen, for ikke å snakke om den enste tjukke personen, som føler det slik. Og er det egentlig så rart? Når man er tjukk er det hele tiden forventet av deg at du skal kjempe mot kroppen din. "Bekjemp bilringene!" "Ta kontroll over vekta di!" "Vinn kampen mot kiloene!" Dette blir litt mer abstakt, men ikke noe mindre virkelig, i språket som brukes omkring "fedme epidemien". Fett er noe vi skal være redde for, noe vi skal unngå, noe som har skylda for fremtidige samfunnsproblemer.



Når vi nå vet dette, burde det ikke komme som noe sjokk når feite mennesker ender opp med å ta/føle avstand fra kroppene sine. Tross alt, kroppene deres er fete, og fett = fælt. Hvem ønsker vel å identifisere seg med noe som er fælt? Ikke jeg, iallfall. Men i det siste har jeg begynt å huske noe jeg en gang visste. At kroppen min og jeg ikke er to deler av en enhet, vi er ett. Jeg er rumpa mi, lårene mine og fingrene mine, på den samme måten som jeg er sinnet mitt, stemmen min og måten jeg beveger meg på. Endringer vil komme, men disse endringene vil ikke bare påvirke en del av meg, de vil påvirke meg.

Mens jeg har vært i denne prosessen med å ta tilbake kroppen min, har det gått opp for meg at det er noe annet jeg også må ta på meg. Du skjønner, hvis kroppen min er meg, så er kritikken som rettes mot den også min. I det siste har hjernen min begynt å oversette denne kritikken, slik at:
"Hadde du ikke blitt lykkeligere om du gikk ned i vekt?" på vei fra ørene til hjernen min blir forvandlet til "Hadde du ikke blitt lykkeligere om det var mindre av deg?"
"Jeg leste en artikkel om en fantastisk ny slankekur her om dagen" blir til "Det er for mye av deg, du burde virkelig prøve å bli mindre."
"Du trengte ikke å bekymre deg for å få plass i setene på et fly for et par år siden..." blir til "Du tar så mye plass, jeg tror det hadde vært bedre om du minimerte deg selv."
         
Vær så snill å forstå at når du ber meg om å gå ned i vekt, er ikke dette noe du bare sier til rumpa mi, eller lårene mine, eller fingrene mine, du ber meg om å bli mindre. Jeg har ikke lyst til å være mindre, jeg har lyst til å være mer! Jeg har brukt så mye tid på å gjemme meg bort, på å prøve å bli usynlig, på å være mindre enn jeg er, og nå vil jeg være mer! Jeg vil så gjerne være mer meg!

Alt jeg ber deg om, er at du ikke gjør det vanskeligere for meg enn det allerede er.

"Triggering"

If you spend some time in the Fatosphere, maybe especially in the Fatshionista LJ community, you will become familiar with the word triggering. For example: "Click this link to read the rest of my post, as some of you may find it triggering." This triggering content may be a great number of things; in the Fatosphere painful tales of diets past are a frequent theme considered triggering, but by no means the only one. Other examples include talk of eating disorders, sexual assaults or strong body negativity. I have heard this culture of sheltering people from what might be triggering for them critisized, but I personally have always thought it a considerate and sensible thing to do, in a forum in which we strive to promote better relationships between people and their bodies. When I read a trigger warning, I know to go on reading with a more prepared mindset.

Hvis du tilbringer litt tid i Fett-o-sfæren, kanskje spesielt i Fatshionista LJ samfunnet, vil du etterhvert bli godt kjent med ordet "triggering", eller utløsende. Et eksempel: "Klikk på denne linken for å lese resten av innlegget, da noen av dere kan oppleve det som utløsende." Dette utløsende innholdet kan være mange forskjellige ting, i Fett-o-sfæren er smertefulle beretninger om tidligere slankekurer et tema som ofte anses som utløsende, uten at det på noen måte det eneste. Andre eksempler inkluderer snakk om spiseforstyrrelser, seksuelle overgrep, og negative samtaler om egne eller andres kropper formulert i sterke ordelag. Jeg har lest kritikk av denne kulturen hvor vi skjermer folk fra temaer de kan finne utløsende, men jeg personlig har alltid ansett det for en hensynsfull og fornuftig ting å gjøre i et forum hvor vi jobber for å bedre menneskers forhold til deres egne kropper. Når jeg lesser en "trigger warning" eller varsel om utløsende innhold, kan jeg lese videre med en litt endret mental innstilling.

What might be triggered was always fairly obvious to me, you would read something that would remind you of something in your own personal history which ended up triggering bad emotions, or you would read something that just plain hurt your feelings. But there's a third form of triggering content (maybe there's many more forms as well, it's just that I haven't discovered them yet), one that's much more sneaky and not so immediately painful. I discovered this while I was reading an opinion piece entitled Contempt For Fat People (again, I've had Google translate it from Norwegian to English for you, it won't be pretty, but it should be readable) by Lisbeth Nilsen. The piece itself was not the problem, it is in fact written by a woman who seems to be fat people positive, but I went on to read the comments. I know what you're saying: "Don't you know better than to read the comments on a piece that dares to express fat positive messages?! They're always filled with people who take advantage of the anonymity of the Internet to express their contempt for fat people in the most hurtful language possible!" Yes, as you've now guessed I did know that, but if I'm going to argue for Fat Acceptance in Norway I want to be prepared for the argument from the other side, and I knew I'd find it there. Therefore I put on my mental armor, lifted my shield high, and plowed through. And I really thought it worked, strangers on the Internet have only so much power to hurt me after all, and I had my armor on. I didn't notice the thoughts. The little creeping thoughts that snuck their way past my helmet and into my head. It wasn't what these people said you see, it was how they felt. Feeling that much disdain and contempt and hatred wash over you, leaves you, well me, wanting to change. So I was on my fourth or fifth page of comments, when one of the thoughts dared to be a little louder: "Maybe I should just lose some weight," it said. "50 lbs maybe? I could do that, and then these people wouldn't feel the way they feel about me. Getting through to them about FA is going to be that much harder if they just see me as a fatty trying to make up excuses for 'giving up'." Then I stopped reading to think about it, and don't think I immediately thought: "Leave my head, unhelpful thoughts! I am a fat accepting fatty, and you will find no mercy here!"
No, I thought: "Well, maybe I should -" And then I remembered who I am, because I am a fat accepting fatty, at least I am trying to be. Unfortunately, remembering this didn't bring with it some great way of shutting that inner voice up, the only thing I could think to do was to stop myself from seeing these hurtful messages, and before I thought about it my fingers hurried to close the browser window. I hurridly found an other occupation for my thoughts, as I knew I was in no emotional space to rationally think this through.

It was only later, when I was no longer feeling the feelings these comments had brought, that I realized that I had found a new version of triggering.

Hva som kunne utløses virket alltid ganske åpenbart på meg, du leste noe som minnet deg om noe i din personlige historie som igjen utløste vonde følelser, eller kanskje du leste noe som rett og slett såret følelsene dine. Men det finnes en tredje form for utløsende innhold (det er mulig det finnes mange flere former enn det, det er bare at jeg ikke har oppdaget dem enda), en form som er mye mer sleipt snikende og ikke så umiddelbart smertefull. Jeg oppdaget dette da jeg leste en kronikk med tittelen "Forakt for fete folk" av Lisbeth Nilsen. Kronikken i seg selv var ikke problemet, den er faktisk skrevet av en kvinne som virker som om hun er positiv til fete folk, men jeg bestemte meg for å lese kommentarene. Jeg vet hva du tenker: "Har du ikke bedre vett enn at du leser kommentarene på et innlegg som våger å uttrykke positive tanker om fete mennesker?! De er alltid fylt med mennesker som utnytter internetts anonymitet til å uttrykke forakt for feite mennesker i så sårende ordelag som mulig!" Jo, som du nå har gjettet så visste jeg det, men hvis jeg skal argunemtere for Fat Acceptance i Norge ønsker jeg å være forbedredt på den andre sidens argumenter, og jeg visste jeg kom til å finne dem der. Derfor tok jeg på meg den mentale rustningen min, løftet skjoldet høyt, og pløyde meg igjennom. Og jeg trodde virkelig at det funket, fremmede mennesker på internett har tross alt begrenset med kraft til å såre meg, og jeg hadde på meg rustningen min. Jeg merket ikke tankene. De små smygende tankene som snek seg forbi hjelmen og inn i hodet mitt. For selv om jeg var forberedt på hva disse menneskene sa, så var jeg ikke forberedt på hva de følte. Å føle så mye forakt og avsky og hat skylle over deg, etterlater deg, vel meg, med et behov for å endre meg. Jeg var på den fjerde eller femte siden med kommentarer, da en av tankene våget å være litt mer høyrøstet: "Kanskje jeg burde gå ned noe i vekt," sa den. "20 kg kanskje? Jeg kan gjøre det, og så vil ikke disse menneskene føle det slik for meg lenger. Å trenge igjennom til dem med et budskap om Fat Acceptance kommer til å være desto vanskeligere dersom de bare ser på meg som ei tjukkas som har funnet en unnskyldning for å "gi opp"." Jeg sluttet å lese for å tenke litt på det, og ikke tro at jeg umiddelbart tenkte: "Forlat hodet mitt, ubrukelige tanker! Jeg er en "fat accepting" tjukkas, og du vil ikke finne noen nåde her!"

Neida, jeg tenkte: "Vel, kanskje jeg burde..." Og så husket jeg hvem jeg er, fordi jeg er en "fat accepting" tjukkas, jeg prøver iallfall å være det. Desverre bragte ikke det at jeg husket dette med seg en effektiv måte å få den indre stemmen til å tie stille, det eneste jeg klarte å komme på å gjøre var å sørge for at jeg ikke lenger så disse sårende beskjedene, og før jeg tenkte over det fortet fingrene mine seg å lukke fanen. Jeg kjappet meg å finne noe nytt å tenkke på, siden jeg visste at jeg ikke følelsesmessig var klar for å tenke igjennom hva som hadde skjedd på en rasjonell måte.

Det var senere, da jeg ikke lenger følte følelsene kommentarene hadde bragt med seg, at det gikk opp for meg at jeg hadde oppdaget en ny versjon av utløsende.

Find a bra that fits

This post was conceived while I was reading the comments to the post named Some Meandering Thoughts About Bra-Shopping: Why Fashion Really Is A Line In The Sand over The Rotund.

My bra size is 85I. That's right I. If European bra sizes confuse you, that's about a US/UK 38G/H. With this, I am wearing one of those sizes that are mentioned when people talk about boobs that are "scary big". Because, while it is obviously a crime to have too small breasts in our society, they should not be too large either. How fun. Now, are my breasts really "scary big"? I don't think so. Sure, they are large, but they fit the rest of my body. I don't actually stop people in the streets with them, is what I'm saying.
But this isn't what I want to talk about. I want to talk about something that a lot of people seem to associate with large brasts, and that is back pain. As shocking as this may be to some people, I don't experience boob related back pain. In spite of this, it has been suggested to me a couple of times that I might consider breast reduction surgery. Please take a moment to ponder how fucked up that is.
All surgery has risks, of course. What I didn't know until recently, however, was how many malpractice cases involve breast reduction surgeries (NSFW). Out of 116 cases wherein the patients were awarded damages, 51 of them were breast reduction surgeries. By telling you this I am honestly not trying to scare you out of having breast reduction surgery, if that is what's right for you. What I am trying to say, is find a bra that fits. You see, the only time my breasts have caused me back pain, was wen I was wearing a truly shoddy bra. And so many women seem to be wearing the wrong bra size. If you are carrying a bit of a heavy load, as some of us fatties are, the situation might get unbearable pretty quickly.

I would recommend getting fitted at a place that specializes in underwear (here they usually carry a broader range of sizes as well). The advantage of these places, in addition to the knowledge they, hopefully, possess, is that the women who work there have been picked partly because they are the kind of people whom other people wouldn't mind too much getting undresed in front of. After you have been told what your correct bra size is, make sure to try at least one on in that size. The people who work there aren't infallable, after all. Lastly, remember that you dont have to buy anything. These places are usually pretty expensive, and if you can't afford it you can't afford it.
If getting fitted isn't a possibility for you, or is something you just can't bring yourself to do, you can try to do it yourself. There are several how-to guides on this subject online, unfortunately I can't recommend any of them as I haven't tried it myself. Oh, and remember that the band is supposed to be tight. The rule of thumb is that you should be able to fit two fingers underneath it, but not much more.

To help you find a bra that fits, I'm ending this post with a few resources for any other Hooty McBoob's out there:
Dessous XXL - You can have Google translate for you, if your German is rusty.
Bravissimo - I have bought from them several times, and have mostly very good experiences.
Freya, Fantasie and Panache - Three brands that carry larger cup sizes.
Enell - The fabled fatty sports bra.
Looking for a sports bra - Post on the Fatshionista LJ community with many handy suggestions in comments.

Sure, Fat Acceptance is great and all, but what about my...

Sure, Fat Acceptance is great and all, but what about my double chin? It is so incredibly socially unacceptable! Just look at the images of fat women on TV (when there are any); none of the acceptable fat people, meaning fat people who are more than just caricatures, have double chins. When people in my family are having their picture taken, they have to raise their head or stick out their chin to make sure the double chin isn't immortalized in pixels. A discussion on whether someone is fat or not can be ended by a simple "She has a double chin!" Yup, with a double chin there's just no denying it, you're fat.* And since fat equals bad, I with my double chin equal bad. On a good day, my big hips make me feel womanly, my big ass makes me feel sexy, my large thighs are there to carry me around and I appreciate them for it, my big boobs make me feel like there's not a man who could resist me, my fat toes are the cutest things ever, my stomach with it's strech marks feel great to the touch, and my back rolls remind me "I'm curvy, yay!", but neutral, it seems, is the best I can feel about my double chin. So naturally, when I first discovered Fat Acceptance, my feelings toward my double chin was the first thing I wanted to change. *rolls eyes at herself* Chock it up to me liking a challenge. And I have made some progress; my feelings toward my double chin used to be all bad all the time, and now, as I just said, I can manage a 'neutral'. That's doesn't feel good enough, though. I want to be able to love all of myself, but the honest to god truth is that I just don't find double chins attractive.

I think I have been looking at this from the wrong perpective, then. My double chin is a part of me, and I am worthy of both acceptance and love. I mean, I've never thought of vaginas as particularly attractive looking, but there it still is, right where it's always been, and that's never bothered me in any way. I guess that is me: Lots of blonde curly hair. Nice smile. Vagina. Double chin. 100% awesome.;=)
I don't expect there to be love at first sight the next time I see my double chin in a mirror, but hopefully this new perspective will help me take the next step. I'll let you guys know how it works out.

Have you guys ever thought someting like that? "Sure, Fat Acceptance is great and all, but what about my..." How did your sentence end? Care to share?


*I'm referring to actual fat people with double chins here, not skinny people with them.

“Troll, to thyself be - enough!”

  Edvard Grieg: In the Hall of the Mountain King 
If you read my latest post you will know that I recently went out wearing a dress that showed off a little bit more skin than than I normally would, and probably than some people think is appropriate for a person of my size. You will also know that I did not do so feeling completely confident.

That is where my tale begins, with me standing in the supermarked wondering if a completely random, slightly below average looking, guy is juding me for daring to wear clothes that reveals that I have both fat knees and fat thighs. On top of this somewhat painful pondering, I am also beating myself up for not loving myself enough. Because, if I could just love myself, including my body ("The way normal people do," a completely unhelpful part of me chimes in), then that guy's opinion couldn't touch me. Instead, because my body and I are not yet in a healthy loving relationship, his opinion could hurt me. And I'm scared of how that hurt might affect me. How many steps backwards can I afford to take before I step completely away from the light and back into the darkness?

What am I supposed to do then? It's not like I can lock myself up with only my body until we have resolved all our issues. That's when the quote from the title fell into my head. You see, in Henrik Ibsen's play Peer Gynt, Peer (a human) is discussing the difference between humans and trolls with the Mountin King (the troll king), when the Mountain King says: "[...] among men the saying goes: “Man, be thyself!” At home here with us, ’mid the tribe of the trolls, the saying goes: “Troll, to thyself be—enough!”" And I realized that I don't have to love myself 100% right away, I just have to love myself enough. So I am deciding that, until I love myself the way I wish I did, I will love myself just enough - just enough for my love to be a little bit stronger than the negative feelings or opinions anyone else may have. Just enough so that I won't have to worry whenever I leave the house. Loving my body would be awesome, but until then I don't mind taking a leaf out of the Mountain King's book.

Fatshion vs. Fashion: Personal update

As written below, I headed to my closet for a sleeveless top, but instead I found a dress that shows off my knees and then some. This is a much bigger step than the sleeveless top for me personally, so I figured I should give “walking the walk” my best effort, and put it on. I’ve worn it several times now, and although I have pangs of self-consciousness, I am also kinda proud. In fact, I feel deserving of a fat activist label. Like a button. Can we have “Fat Activist” buttons? ‘Cause that would be awesome. :=)

Fatshion vs. Fashion

I think I have discovered a flaw in the system. Now, for there to be an actual flaw, one basic assumption must be correct. The assumption is that Fat Acceptance and fatshion are two sides of the same coin. I am not supposing that all people using the term fatshion are fat accepting, but it does seem probable that a fair majority of them are. If this is wrong, the conclusions I draw are also wrong, so feel free to stop reading, and sending me a message letting me know. =)

I was reading the fabulous bloomie’s latest post A Whole New bloomie, and, while watching her pictures, I had a feeling I was watching something unusual. It took me a little while to figure out what it was, but eventually I realized that it was the amount of bare skin on display that was throwing me for a loop.

The interesting thing is that this outfit was a result of Bloomie imitating someone else’s style, and I realized that the outfit she was wearing would not have made me pause if I had seen it on someone non-fat.
But I see pictures of fat people and/or people displaying fatshion almost every day, so why should an outfit that is, after all, fairly ordinary stand out to me like this? With the amount of fat pictures I’ve seen, I must surely have seen dozens upon dozens of fatties displaying, as Bloomie is doing, both bare arms and knees? Off to the Fatshionista flickr pool I went, to see what was what. Out of 4 909 pictures there were 20, twenty, displaying outfits where both bare arms and knees were showing. How could this be? Isn’t fatshion and FA two sides of the same coin? Aren’t we supposed to be accepting our fat, not hiding it? And now I had a depressing thought: It seems that we are, by creating a separate category for our fashion, not only normalizing (fashion on) fat bodies, but a way of dressing that has us covering up more than our thinner sisters and brothers.

I wish I was a shining example of someone who accepts her fat and isn’t afraid to show it, but I realize that, before I become someone who practices what she preaches, I have some work to do. I’m off to re-read Keena’s inspirational post on your Right To Bare Arms, and then I’m digging a sleeveless top out of my closet. I wish you would join me!