Fat in France

La vie en rose - Edith Piaf

                                                                         

I love to travel, and I do it as often as I can on a student’s budget. I find traveling exciting, fun, sometimes relaxing, and I think it broadens the mind. Which is why I think it’s heartbreaking when I see many fatties say they’re afraid to travel; that they’re putting it off until they’re thinner; or that they’ve just put it out of their minds altogether. With this in mind I am starting a new post series on the blog, telling you all about my Fat Travels™.

My first tale is of a three day weekend in Paris. The trip was a gift to me, and my brother and his fiancée, from our parents at Christmas. This was my first time in Paris, and I have to say that if you’ve never been there, you really should put it on the list! I’ve never been to a city quite like Paris. Everywhere I went was so beautiful! The buildings, which were mostly very well preserved, all had these beautiful decorations. There were artistic statues everywhere. And … well, you know those paintings you’ve seen? With the cobblestone streets, the narrow passages, and the sidewalk restaurants? Yeah, it was like that. Keep in mind that I’d never been to Paris before, so I spent a lot of my time doing very tourist-y things in very tourist-y areas, but it was still like that for me. Plus, there were croissants, and delicious red wine, and escargot with lots of garlic (which I ate), and frog legs (which I didn’t).

Since this is the first post in this new series I’m starting with the airport. I travel from Oslo Lufthavn Gardermoen, and we were there an hour before departure. Some people can’t stand the thought of not being at the airport without oceans of time before departure, but one hour is really all you need at Gardermoen. If you’re travelling internationally from the U.S. it’s my experience that you need to be at the airport two hours before departure. Anywhere else, and an hour and a half should do. I’ve never been stopped at customs, I do, however, get stopped at security almost every time I travel, and since I’ve decided writing about being stopped at security adds color to my narrative you’ll probably be reading a lot of stopped-at-security stories. This time it was at Charles De Gaulle in Paris. I’d managed to forget that I had three containers of different liquids in my handbag, and so didn’t remove them from my bag and put them in the little plastic bags you’re supposed to use. The woman who checked my bag, after I’d sent it through the screening, calmly and aloofly put it on a little area to go through it, and completely ignored my embarrassment and apologies as she pulled out one item after the other, put them in a little plastic bag, and gave it all back to me.
I love airports! This is a place, where, once you’ve checked in and gotten through security, you’re completely free of things you “should” do. - Okay, so that’s not 100% true all the time, and if you’re traveling for business I guess I can see working at the airport, but if you’re traveling for pleasure and you still have to work at the airport, I’m officially declaring you too busy! Anyway, airports, yes … nothing to do but look forward to the nice trip you’re going to have, or to going home, and maybe shop in the overpriced stores, or eat or drink overpriced food or drink. And there’s no use being annoyed by the prices, because one restaurant is just as expensive as the next. And nobody looks strangely at you if you’re drinking wine at twelve o’ clock, because you’re on holiday. Everything is so bright and clean in airports. Even the people look better, because they’re happy, and because some of us still think it’s appropriate to dress up a little to fly. Can you tell I like airports?

I don’t have the same relationship with actually being on the plane as I have with being in airports, but that isn’t to say I mind it at all. Since this is my first time writing about traveling while fat there are some things I should mention again. A lot of you are worried about not fitting into the seats, so here are some handy hints that I’ve picked up along the way: Firstly there’s Seatguru, I don’t use this site much myself, but I know a lot of fatties love it more than they love donuts (which, as we know, all fatties love more than life itself). Secondly, some general rules: Do not choose seats in the first row, or by the emergency exits. Those seats usually have the trays stored in the armrests, giving your bottom half less space to expand under the armrests if you need it. Do try to choose aisle seats. Here you have the opportunity to utilize some of the aisle space for your arms and shoulders, and you also avoid having both hips pressed against the people sitting next to you. Some people swear by the window seats, since theoretically you should be able to lift the armrests and give yourself more space there. However, in my experience these armrests are locked in the down position more often than not (remember here that I fly mostly in Europe). In fact, on a couple of the planes I've been on recently, none of the armrests would go all the way up, so it was more comfortable to keep them down. You might need a seat belt extender to be able to fasten the seat belt. I personally have never needed one, so I don’t have any experience with this, but I am told (mostly by Americans) that they are readily available on all flights if you ask a flight attendant. If you would prefer not to have to ask a flight attendant for it, you can purchase one (this is just one of the places they're sold) for yourself and bring it with you. I personally was 5’6”, weighed 269lbs, and measured 51-44-54 when I went to Paris. Saying I fit comfortably in the seat would have been a lie, but I did fit. Whether we fit into the seat or not, a lot of us worry about being told by the flight crew that we need to purchase a second seat. I have some tips on this issue as well, although my only qualification for giving them is really that I’ve never been asked to buy a second seat myself. Firstly, and let’s just get it out of the way, it helps if you’re traveling with someone slender. Then you have someone whose space you can “encroach” on without them being bothered by it. Don’t let this stop you from traveling solo though! I certainly have. My second tip is to dress well; you don’t have to pull out your pearls, but definitely no tracksuits (really, no matter how comfortable they are). Most of you should be able to just picture how you dress in everyday life, and take it up a small notch. My third tip is don’t draw attention to yourself. I’m not saying you can’t ask questions if you have them, or that you should try to avoid the flight attendants, but maybe don’t have a picnic on the floor in front of the boarding counter, or decide to entertain your fellow travelers by singing aloud a joke version of the national anthem while seated in the boarding area. As fatties we don’t actually blend in, but what I’m trying to say here is don’t force them into having to make a decision on the subject. On a related note, the first post I ever wrote on this blog was titled Why charging fat passengers double is a horrible idea, and if you haven’t read it I would love for you to check it out!

Having covered the part wherein I actually traveled, I've finally arrived at Paris itself. People in Paris mostly look the way I’ve come to expect people in Western Europe to look; lots of them are slender and lots of them are chubby, and a few of them are fat. Apart from this normalcy, being fat in Paris is an interesting experience. The city officials, you see, seem to have had people of a certain size in mind when they equipped the public spaces, and the tourist-y ones, but the private individuals don’t seem to have followed the same thought patterns. The spaces owned by individuals are no bigger than they have to be, the tables are small, and so are the chairs (though the chairs mostly don’t have armrests). I mentioned the cobblestone streets. If your movement is impaired this may not sound so great to you, but the good thing is that all the sidewalks I saw accompanying the streets were made to be flat, and more or less smooth.
We spent about half a day on one of the sightseeing buses. These are equipped with the typical two plastic seats with slightly upturned edges on both sides of an aisle. The upturned edges might unfortunately cause discomfort for some super fats, but I did notice that my death fat arse was quite comfortable. Another interesting example of Parisian city officials having had fat people in mind, are some chairs that we found placed around a fountain by Musée du Louvre.

Wide chair. Narrow chair.

Fat person. Slender person.

I had a single room where we stayed at Hotel Europe Saint Severin***. The bed was a queen sized double bed, so that was a nice surprise. Also the room wasn’t so cramped I barely had room to stand, which I’ve come to expect from single rooms, so that was another nice surprise. The bedroom itself wasn’t much to write home about, but the bathroom was recently renovated, and so clean it was gleaming. As I just mentioned I’ve come to expect single rooms to be cramped, and this was true of the bathroom here. Space saving had yielded the result that the toilet was placed in a little niche. My deathfat form didn’t have a lot of room, but it was alright. However, if you are a super fat it might be problematic, so either bring some equipment along, or book a double room.

As I’ve mentioned on here once before, it’s considered impolite to stare in Norway. This doesn’t mean we don’t look; just that it’s considered very rude to be caught in a stare, so you automatically limit the time you look at someone so it isn’t long enough to be called a stare, and if someone should see you looking at them you look away immediately. There are rude people everywhere of course, and, having traveled quite a bit, I have of course been to countries where they don’t have the same cultural view on staring. Despite this, I have experienced very little negative attention of this kind. So little, in fact, that I believed that I was just exceptionally unobservant in cases like these. It is still a fact that I spend a lot of time in my head, and that I just don’t really care if people look at me or not, so I’m not saying I don’t still believe I miss a lot, but Paris taught me I do notice some things. And this is the thing about Paris that isn’t so great.
As you now know, I hail from a country where you feel embarrassed if you’re caught staring, so when on Friday I noticed a white, middle aged man slowly looking me over, starting with my shoes and working his way up, I expected him to look quickly away when he reached my face and realized I had seen him. I was wearing sunglasses, so maybe he didn’t realize I was looking him in the eye, but I was facing him straight on. Anyway, I looked at him, and he continued to look at me, after a few seconds I raised an eyebrow, he stared a second longer, and then looked away.
We stayed in the Latin Quarter in Paris, which is this really great part of the city teeming with life, little shops, lots of places to eat and drink, and on top of this is about as central as you can get in a city as big as Paris. According to Wikipedia the Latin Quarter is “Known for its student life, lively atmosphere and bistros […]”. The student life and lively atmosphere was in full effect as we were walking around Saturday night, looking for a place to get a drink. Drunken people your own age do always constitute a fat person risk. Will the reduction in inhibitions cause people to say or do things they wouldn’t normally do? Then of course there’s the fact that a lot of the people who go out drinking are single and looking (or taken and looking), and are therefore paying more attention to their own and other peoples looks than they normally might. And yeah, I was stared at. It’s hard to know how much of that was because I’m a woman who might be available, how much was because of the outfit I was wearing (which, if I do say so myself, was fetching, and also quite green), and how much was because I’m fat. I did notice that, just as we came into their line of vision, a group of young men suddenly got very loud (in French, which I don’t speak), shouting something to each other, this while I was having that feeling you have when you’re aware of being watched. Later a woman quite blatantly turned to stare at me while I was standing outside a bar talking to my companions, apparently prompted by the man who was sitting across from her.
The last, and worst, case of the stares I was on the receiving end of while I was in Paris was at Charles De Gaulle Airport. I had to walk by a table where three people, who looked like a father and his daughter and son, were sitting, three times. Now, I was wearing some noisy heels. I was also wearing capri pants, showing my ankles, which had, for reasons known and unknown, swollen til they were wider than my feet. That being said, wow, did the dad stare at me, mostly, it seemed, in the direction of my feet. I saw him staring the first time I went by the table. I saw him looking and looking the second time I went by the table. The third time I had to walk past the table, I looked towards them as soon as I was in the line of sight, and, sure enough, there was the daughter staring at me. I looked into her face the whole time I was walking past them, but she just kept staring. Finally, just after I’d passed the table, I turned around, and, finding them all looking at me, smiled widely (okay, maybe a little manically) and waved energetically.
For someone who isn't used to getting this type of attention, this was a lot in one weekend. Saturday night was an uncomfortable experience, but apart from that the rudeness of it all was really what bothered me the most. I was much more affected, for example, by the guy who felt it necessary to comment on my tits as I was walking home from work one night, right here in Oslo. One thing all these experiences have taught me though, is that my chosen tactic until now, staring right back at the people who stare, isn't actually doing its job in making me feel the way I want to feel after something like this, meaning that I'll have to try to think of another way to go before the next time.

I love having clothes not everybody else has, so I always put aside a little money in my budget for shopping when I go abroad. My shopping process has changed since becoming a fatty; now I research which shops sell clothes in my size before I go, and write down/print out where to find them for my trip. Paris may be Fashion Heaven for slender people, but this is not true for the fat ones, so there was really only one store I wanted to visit when I was there, namely Jean Marc Philippe. I’d admired their clothes for a long time, but with the added costs for shipping, Norwegian sales taxes, and customs fees, I just can’t afford them. In Paris no such costs are added of course, and I even got them tax free. This was good, because as it turns out I love that brand! Every time I put on a new item I marveled at how good the fabrics felt, and then I looked in the mirror, and, a lot of the time, got to marvel at how good I looked in the same fabrics. If I had to say one bad thing about the place, it would have to be that a lot of emphasis is being put on the clothes being flattering (i.e. making you appear less fat), so if you're into crop tops and booty shorts this might not be your ideal place. Putting that aside, I just can't recommend this brand enough! Really, I'm practically drooling as I sit here dreaming about going back. (Just so you know, they’re having a sale right now, I’m not saying anything I’m just saying. Take another 20% off with the code JMPDOUBLEVIP.)

The rudeness of Parisians towards anyone who doesn’t speak French is legendary of course. Mostly I didn’t find this to be true at all. There is, however, an exception, and it is the cab drivers. One might expect these people to speak some English, as they must spend large parts of their day carting around tourists, but one would be wrong. This isn’t actually rude, of course, just strange. However, when you can show the cab driver the address of the place you’re going, on a piece of paper you’ve brought with you, and she still doesn’t understand, I tend to believe she doesn’t want to understand. And when a cab driver takes you straight to the place you wanted to go, without any hesitation, after never actually confirming that he understood you when you tried to explain where you wanted to go, yeah that doesn’t look so friendly either.

When I visit a new country I always learn these five words:

Hello – Bonjour (good evening – bonsoir, good night - bonne nuit)

Yes – Oui

No – Non

Thanks – Merci

Goodbye – Au revoir

They won’t help you with the cab drivers, but with anyone else it’s a nice gesture.

So in conclusion: Go to Paris if you can scrounge up the money! Three days was great, if it’s your first time I think five days would be even better. It’s called the worlds most romantic city, but whether you go alone, with friends, with family, or with one or more romantic partners, I can pretty much guarantee you’ll have a good time. And don’t be afraid to be fat in France! I was, and I’d go back tomorrow if you asked me! If you have any questions, feel free to ask! Au revoir, mes amis!

Shame is a weapon you are not entitled to wield



Have you ever been ashamed? Not just a little embarrassed, actually ashamed. Did you do something you knew you shouldn't have; something really, really stupid, and got caught by someone you like and respect? Did you tell someone about your huge crush on them, and have them respond by laughing at you? Did you have to walk the famous walk of shame, and unfortunately felt neither cool nor ironic, just ... ashamed? Whatever it was, I bet you remember the feeling.
Let me guess: You blushed so hard you felt your cheeks burn. The phrase, "I wish a hole would open up and swallow me whole" was suddenly no longer just an abstract idea. Your stomach dropped so low, you thought you might have to check the basement for it on your way out. Perhaps you felt nauseous, or even lightheaded. You had the thought, "I will never ever be in this situation again" running on repeat inside your head. However you felt, I bet you wanted to escape.  I think most of us would want that, I think most of us would do a LOT to avoid feeling truly ashamed again.


"Go on a diet, fatass! You're disgusting!"

I wonder how you felt about yourself the day those two guys shouted this at you, from their passing car. I think you felt a little insecure about your body, maybe you had been feeling that way for a while. I don't think, however, that you were thinking about what a 'disgusting fatass' you were, right at that moment. I know the shame washes over you like a tidal wave; you look around and realize that at least a couple of people walking close by also heard them; the tears sting in your eyes.
Maybe that is the day you decide to go on a diet.
Maybe it goes well for a while. You're losing weight, and people are paying you compliments. "You're looking great, what are you doing differently?"
"You look good, have you lost some weight?"
"I see you've lost some weight, good for you!" It makes you feel good!
Maybe it's not going so well anymore. Maybe, like at least 95% of the people who go on diets (even the diets that are 'lifestyle changes'), you gain the weight back. Maybe, also like most dieters, you end up fatter than you were before you started dieting. (Not that you were actually that fat before, but you definitely are now.)

You're reading an article about actor/filmdirector Kevin Smith being kicked off a plane for being too fat. In the comments below the article, a large amount of people are sharing 'horror stories' about the time they had to sit through an entire flight with a smelly/ugly/sweaty/just plain fatty pressed up against them.

Maybe you start to wonder if you might be too fat for the plane. You weren't too fat the last time you flew, but you've gained weight since then, and,  come to think of it, you did feel cramped the last time you were on a plane. Maybe you start thinking about how absolutely, terrifyingly awful it would be, to be on a plane full of people and to be kicked off it for being too fat. Maybe you begin to feel like flying might not even be worth it anymore.
Maybe you start a new diet the next day.
Maybe it goes well for a while. You're losing weight again, and people are paying you compliments again. This time you don't enjoy them as much though, because what if you're too weak willed to keep the weight off this time too?
Maybe it's not going so well anymore. Maybe you gain the weight back. Maybe you end up fatter than you were before you started this new diet. (Not that you were actually that fat before, but you definitely are now.)

You're dating a person you have a huge crush on. Everything's going well, until one day when they tell you the reason the two of you never go out, is that they're ashamed to be seen with you, and, by the way, won't you lose some weight?

You stop seeing them. But maybe, every time you fall for someone new now, your subconscious reminds you how it felt to have someone you care deeply for tell you, you aren't good enough. Maybe your subconscious is very effective in it's messaging, and maybe, without noticing it, you start shying away from relationships.
Maybe you start a new diet.
Maybe it goes well for a while. You're losing weight, and once again people are paying you compliments. Maybe it's not going so well anymore. Maybe you gain the weight back. Maybe you end up fatter than you were before you started your diet. (Not that you were actually that fat before, but you definitely are now.)

*

To be honest, when I first thought about writing of shame as a motivator, I thought I would be telling you it's a useless tool. As I've since realized, that is not true at all. Shame can motivate you to a great host of things. Indeed, shaming someone can have lasting effects on a persons life. Which is why, while you have the right to free speech (I hope), shame is a weapon you are not entitled to wield. Because, as with all weapons, it has a vast capacity for destruction, pain, and upheaval, and a very limited capacity for anything else. So don't even pick it up, just leave it be, and you won't end up doing something you (should) regret. We, the shamed, will be truly grateful to you.

This post is is my first guest post over at Oi With The Poodles Already, a great, feminist blog you should absolutely be reading! I am feeling completely honored that they wanted me to guest blog for them!

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.

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* 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.

On taking up 'too much' space

Picture this: Yours truly is sitting on a tram on my way home. I am seated by the window in a grouping of four seats; 2 x 2 seats facing each other. A thin girl is sitting oposite me, no one is siting next to neither me nor her, my legs are not long enough to be encroaching on 'her' space. And I'm doing that thing that I do. That thing where I press myself up against the wall next to me, and make sure my arms are in front of me in stead of at my sides making me wider; in other words, I am making myself as small as possible. I don't think before I do this, it's an automatic thing. Because I'm already taking up too much space, more than my 50% of the seats, and I don't want to make it worse. Someone will, experience tells me, enter the tram soon, and they'll be needing a seat. If it hadn't been for my incredible fatness, if I were a normal person, no one would have hesitated in sitting down next to me. But now, because of my huge space-encroaching body, they won't even get 50% of the (fairly narrow) seats, and I'm trying to make the situation better by minimizing my presence as much as possible.

As I am sitting there the tram stops and two men enter. They are both big men; one of above average height and muscled, the other of about average height with both muscles and fat adding to his size. They are moving towards my grouping of seats, and I wonder if one of them will sit next to me, or if they will see me taking up too much room with my fat ass (shoulders, arms), and move on. The tall man sits down next to me without a seconds hesitation. This surprises me a little bit, because this guy is so large he takes up more than 50% of the seats (not that I would ever hold that against him, mind you), and I would have expected him to at least consider that he and I won't fit very comfortably. (Is it possible I'm not as large as I imagine?) But not only does he not hesitate, he also does that thing that guys do where they spread their legs, making him take up more space than he needs to. Hm...
Now I look over to the seats oposite me, where the other big man has taken a seat next to the thin girl. Together they use up all the space there is, and even though he clearly takes up more than his half of the space, he is also doing that spreading-the-legs thing. And he looks completely unapologetic doing it. This boggles my mind for a moment. Sure the guy sitting next to me can do this, he is slender and therefore doesn't have to worry about taking up too much space. But the other guy is fat, and he's doing the exact same thing! Then this realization suddenly takes hold of me; if these guys don't feel the need to apologize for the space they're taking up, why on earth should I? If these guys can go through their lives taking up more room than they need to, even though they are large to begin with, and clearly feel absolutely no qualms in doing so, then why can't I go through my life taking up as much room as I need to feel comfortable? There's no reason why! I am a person, and people take up space. Some people take up more space than others, that is how the world works. I shouldn't apologize for taking up space, any more than I should apologize for being a person. People don't expect everyone around them to be their exact size, and being one of the people who need a large amount of space in stead of a small amount of space is a ridiculous thing to feel bad about. It's that simple!

Except it's not that simple, of course. The external and internal messages that had me pressing up against that wall in the first place are still out there. So every now and then, when the need to make myself as small as possible comes over me, I pull out this memory. And I try to remember how clear it was, how obvious, how bright a realization, and hold on to that.

I am a person. People take up space. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Say it with me now: I am a person. People take up space. It is nothing to be ashamed of. I am a person. People take up space. It is nothing to be ashamed of.

Why charging fat passengers double is a horrible idea

There are two scenarios in which charging an overweight person for an extra seat might be relevant. One is when a person doesn't fit into a seat with the armrests down, which the airlines seem to consider a saftey risk. The other is when a person fits into the seat, but is taking up more than 'her share' of the space.

First I want to talk about the people who fit into the seat, but are still utilizing more space than is considered normal. The comfort of other passangers is the problem in these cases, so let's have a look at that. Flying is uncomfortable. Yup, I'm willing to claim that, unless you can afford to upgrade your ticket, flying is uncomfortable for almost everyone. But it is true that it can be more uncomfortable with a large person next to you. It can also be more uncomfortable with an infant crying her way through the trip next to you. Or a person who gets airsick and vomits. Or a person who insists on talking their way through the entire journey, when all you want to do is sleep. Or someone who smells badly. Or someone who is mentally challenged. Or a person with a tattoo of a swastica on her arm, who at the start of the journey pulls out "Mein Kampf". But nobody are talking about charging these people extra, are they? So it is only large people who should have to pay extra. Based on how they look. Sounds frighteningly like discrimination to me.
And how are we supposed to see this through? Should it be a requirement to give up our weight and height when we order a ticket? What if you carry all your weight in the belly, and you don't need any more sideways room than a person of 'normal' weight? What about pregnant people?
Maybe it would be better if we gave up our measurements when we purchase a ticket? Waist measurements might be needed, hip measurements absolutely, and I personally think it would be reasonable to include shoulder measurements. Because it's uncomfortable sitting next to someone who has really broad shoulders, if your own shoulders are of a normal size or larger. So bodybuilders would be charged extra - sorry.
Then there's the question of how you make sure people are in fact as large as they say they are. If you're unsure, do you pull people aside and weigh them and measure their height? Or do you wait until people have boarded the plane and it turns out that they are taking up more than the desired space, to then remove them from the airplane to check? This sounds truoblesome, so maybe the solution is to weigh and/or measure all the passangers before they board the plane?

Then there are the passangers who are so large that they don't fit in a seat while the armrests are down. Those people should have to pay more, right? Because this is hurting the airline's bottom line.
An other group of people costing the airline money are the physically disabled. Do we think it's alright charging these people extra? No, we don't.
     "But, disabled people can't help being disabled," I hear some of you call. "Fat people could just eat a little less and excersise a little more, and then they would fit in one seat just like the rest of us."
     You mean 'the rest of us' whose legs are below a certain lenght, right?
     "Yes, that rest of us."
     Okay. In some cases what my theoretical readers are saying is true, but far from all of them. What about the people who are fat because they have a disease or ailment which has, directly or indirectly, caused them to become fat, should they be required to pay extra? If we follow up on this, then the rule becomes visible disease/ailment (like people in wheelchairs) = Doesn't have to pay extra. 'Invisible' disease/ailment = Pays extra. No? What about people who are struggling mentally, and as a consequence have gained weight, should these people have to pay extra? No? Yes? Should we make an exception for people who can produce a doctor's note (and in doing this, ignore the people who are struggling mentally but can't afford/haven't managed to see a 'shrink')?

If you have reached this point in my musings and still think charging larger people more for the same journey is a good idea, I have one last point to share with you. The seats have gotten narrower. I know this comes as a shock to many of you, as the media makes it sound like the seats have stayed the same since the 60s, and the problem is that the people have gotten fatter.The fact is that the average seat in 1972 was 18,5-23 inches wide, today it is 17-19 inches wide. This means that there is a group of people who in 1972 would have fit in their seat but don't today, or who today is squeezed next to you on the plane who wouldnt have been in 1972. Is it still alright for these people to literally have to pay because the airline decided it was going to increase profit, by squeezing more of us onto the same airplane? I hope your answer is no, but if it isn't, you've still made it to the end of this piece, so you can't be all bad.


Hvorfor det er en elendig idé å ta seg dobbelt betalt av tjukke passasjerer

Det er to scenarioer hvor det kunne blitt aktuelt å ta seg betalt for et ekstra sete som en overvektig person. Det ene er i tilfeller hvor personen ikke passer inn i setet med armlenene nede, noe som flyselskapene ser ut til å se på som en sikkerhetsrisiko. Det andre er i tilfeller hvor mennesker passer inn i setet, men tar opp mer enn "sin del" av plassen.

Først vil jeg prate om de menneskene som passer inn i setet, men allikevel bruker mer plass enn det som er regnet som normalt. Andre passasjerers komfort er da problemet, så la oss se på det. Det er ubehagelig å fly. Jepp, jeg vil påstå at, med mindre du har råd til å oppgradere billetten din, er det ubehagelig å fly nesten for alle. Men det er sant at kan være mer ubehagelig med en stor person ved siden av deg. Det kan også være mer ubehagelig med et spedbarn som gråter seg gjennom hele reisen ved siden av deg. Eller en person som blir flysyk og kaster opp. Eller en person som insisterer på å snakke til deg gjennom hele reisen, når alt du ønsker er å sove. Eller en person som lukter vondt. Eller en person som er psykisk utviklingshemmet. Eller en person med hakekors tatovering på underarmen som tar frem "Mein Kampf" med en gang reisen starter. Men det er ingen som prater om å ta seg ekstra av disse menneskene, er det vel? Så det er kun store personer som skal måtte betale ekstra. Basert på hvordan de ser ut. Høres skummelt ut som diskriminering for meg.
Og hvordan skal dette gjennomføres? Skal man måtte oppgi vekt og høyde når man bestiller billetter? Hva om man bærer all vekten på magen, og dermed ikke trenger noe mer plass sidelengs enn en person med "normal" vekt. Hva med gravide?
Kanskje det er bedre om vi oppgir målene våre ved billettkjøp? Midjemål kan kanskje inkluderes, hoftemål absolutt, og jeg personlig synes det vil være mer enn rimelig å inkludere skuldermål. Det er nemlig ubehaglig å sitte ved siden av en ordentlig bredskuldret person om man har normalt brede skuldre. Så bodybuildere må med andre ord betale ekstra, sorry.
Så kommer spørsmålet om hvordan dette skal bli kontrollert. Om man er usikker, trekker man folk til side og veier dem og måler høyden deres? Måler hoftene og skuldrene deres? Eller venter man til folk er inne på flyet og det viser seg at de tar mer plass enn ønsket, for så å ta dem med seg t av flyet igjen for kontrollsjekke. Eller hvis dette med kontrollsjekking virker vanskelig, skal vi veie/måle alle passasjerer ved før de boarder flyet?

Men hva med de personene som er så store at de ikke passer inn i ett sete med armlenene nede? De menneskene skal vel måtte betale mer? For dette koster jo flyselskapet penger.
En annen gruppe mennesker det koster flyselskapet penger å ha reisende med seg er bevegelseshemmede. Synes vi det er ok at disse menneskene må betale ekstra? Nei, jeg kan ikke forestille meg det.
         "Men bevegelseshemmede kan ikke noe for at de er bevegelseshemmede," hører jeg noen av dere rope. "Tjukke mennesker kan bare spise litt mindre og bevege seg litt mer, så hadde de passet inn i ett sete akkurat som oss andre."
         Du mener "oss andre" som ikke har bein som er over en viss lengde, ikke sant?
         "Ja, de andre."
         OK. I en del tilfeller stemmer det mine teoretiske lesere nå har sagt, men langt ifra i alle. Hva med de som er tjukke fordi de har en sykdom eller lidelse som enten indirekte eller direkte har ført til at de blir tjukke, skal de måtte betale ekstra? Så regelen er synlig sykdom/lidelse (som mennesker i rullestol) = Ikke betale ekstra. "Usynlig" sykdom/lidelse = Betale ekstra. Nei? Hva med mennesker som sliter psykisk, og som en konsekvens av dette har lagt på seg, skal disse menneskene måtte betale ekstra? Nei? Ja? Skal vi gjøre unntak for mennesker som kan fremlegge en legeerklæring (og med dette blåse i de som sliter psykisk men som ikke har hatt råd til/klart å gå til psykolog eller psykiater)?

Om du har kommet til dette punktet i artikkelen min og fortsatt synes det er en god idé å la større mennesker betale mer for samme reise, har jeg ett siste poeng som jeg håper å overbevise deg med: Setene har blitt mindre. Jeg vet at dette kommer som et sjokk på mange av dere, da media får det til høres ut som om setene har holdt seg like store siden 60-tallet, og det er menneskene som har blitt feitere. Faktum er det at gjennomsnitts setet i 1972 var 18,5-23 tommer stort, i dag er det 17-19 tommer stort. Det er altså en gruppe mennesker som i 1972 kunne passet inn i setet men som ikke gjør det i dag, eller som i dag sitter skviset inntil deg på flyet men som ikke hadde gjort det i 1972. Er det fortsatt greit at disse menneskene skal måtte betale (bokstavelig talt) for at flyselskapene bestemte seg for å øke profitten sin, ved å skvise flere av oss inn i det samme flyet? Jeg håper nå at svaret ditt er nei, men om det ikke er det får du allikevel ha takk for at du leste artikkelen min.