My mother and the closest thing I have to a supervisor are the same age. They both love science fiction television shows and neither of them has seen me as anything resembling thin/svelte/average/skinny. I've always been fat. Always.

So when I stumbled into the size positive/fat acceptance/fat activist realm a few years ago, it was not difficult for me to embrace the word 'fat'. Even the mean kids at school were beyond calling me the extremely obvious-- it was, esentially, like calling the sky blue and expecting a reaction. No one ever sought to comfort me by saying "Oh, you're not fat!" and if they did I'd view them with new skepticism.

When I describe myself, or another person, as fat my mother becomes very quiet. She uses this tactic whenever I say something she does not want to hear. I'm not sure if she thinks that her silence will create a vacuum in which the word cannot be heard-- or if she's just preparing herself to ignore me.

Mom: "And then my co-worker got a new suit and it makes it look like she has a great figure!"

Me: "Wait, what makes a figure great and what makes it crap?"

Mom: Silence

Mom: "And she only paid $150!"

It isn't that I'm trying to rain on her parade, but I would like to have her think about the words she uses and the legacy they leave. She says now, when I talk about size positivity, that she admires that I am generally comfortable in my skin (she says "You know, I'm really impressed that you've learned to accept yourself. You're only 30. It takes most people twice that long if ever") and that I'll be able to teach my children that they're nothing to be "fixed"...but she rarely gets there. That is a place that is not defensive and it's hard to talk about our actual experiences without her becoming defensive.

I think it may be generational though. My person who-makes-sure-my-work-is-out-and-makes-sure-my-chair-is-big-enough (MP for short) is also fat (as is my mother) and when I describe myself as fat she makes lots of noises. 

Me: Uh, I think it's just an issue about me being a fat lady... I don't know. I'm not worried aout it.

MP: Noooooo! It is far more likely that it is X, Y, Z or B! 

But MP is a little more receptive I think. I am not sure why. Maybe it is because she's butch and veers less into the "bigger is badder" side of things but I don't know. My mom is butch too and she obsesses over fat content and sugar (instead of nutritional benefit). One reason I think MP is a little more receptive is because she sees me every day. She sees me in fitted clothing. She sees fat women tattooed all over my body. Recently, an artist I know and like (Mark Reusch) posted some new work that elicited a gasp from me. MP came running in and I gladly showed her the work.

Me: See! This is Mark's work, he really likes fat women and I LOVE this piece!

And I think that seeing fat women, both as fat and as women-- not some abomination, hushed up or spit in rage, helps. So for the holidays, I'm endeavoring to say fat as much as I can. To be fat everywhere. To show that I'm human while fat, sexy while fat, smart while fat and perfect, as is, while fat.

I know each and every one of us has come across this GIANT pain in the behind issue.  Is it creeping up more frequently for the rest of you as it is for me?

Case in point, for work I wanted to pick up a semi dressy sweater.  I grabbed something off the rack from a store I shop at fairly often and in a size most of my other clothes are in (22) and it was HUGE.  I went down 2 sizes, since they looked big and it did not fit, too big. I ended up buying the sweater in a 16. But the pants at the same store I had to go with 22s.

This happened again with a corporate reward shirt.  I went by the measurements on the chart this time.  It was made for women, not men. I picked out a XL, based on what the inches read for a XL and the arm holes are way too long and the short sleeves go past my elbow. Never mind that I could probably button it shut and wear it as a mini-skirt.

Why, oh why, can’t there be a standard size system?  An 8 is an 8 is an 8.  An 18 is an 18 is an 18.  A 28 is a 28 is a 28, etc. Do the manufactures understand that clothes might sell quicker if we could rely on standard sizing? I know I would probably go crazy with buying online stuff if I knew that it wouldn’t end up in an never-ending dance of returns.

Is it too much to ask of our fashion industry to do the same with sizes?

Being partial to dresses, I was perusing the Lane Bryant website today, looking for same.

I found this:

Oh, cute dress.  Shantung.  Lovely.  But what's that in the zoom view...?

I live in New England.  I like snow.  There's snow outside falling in teeny tiny droplets outside my office window as I type.  It's cold and blustery and I believe my nylon stockings just won't cut it anymore.  Joyous of joys, this snow-baby is getting ready for winter!

That's almost amazing, except summer likes to lull around my head and buzz by my eyeballs occassionally.  Granted, I like getting hot, sweaty, and burnt as much as the next sub, but I'd much rather take a cold snap to a heat wave any day.  

So imagine my frustration when bathings suits and the perilious shopping they instigate reared as the topic of coffee-pot discussion at the office today.  My much-thinly suite mate waxed poetic at the lack of bathing suit options for her upcoming cruise trip.  She had to go to a suit-specializing store in a mall of all places.  A mall!  A special store! Ee gads!  My response was to chuckle and talk about the trip, nay the glorious get-a-way she's planned with her beau and the alternatives to wearing a bathing suit altogether.

Plus-size, who knew there were so many meanings? For instance there's plus-size models which has litte to do with plus-size people. Mainstream plus models wear a size 10 to 14 or 16 (maybe 18 if they're really tall). They don't have to shop in plus size stores, and it would be a longshot to call any of them fat. Plus-size people do come in many sizes of course and many are fat, sorta fat, very fat, fat on the inside and so on... We've made strides in the fashion world in recent years having plus-size models at all. Remember when most catalogs had straight size models wearing their muumuus and house dresses? So we've got fashion for fatties, some of which put actual fat plus-size models in the pictures, but many are still using models on the smaller end of the spectrum. I recently came across this quote from the Curvy Girl Clothing blog.

NOTE: We have noticed a disappointing trend in that when we use models larger than a size 18, the clothes tend to sit on the shelves a lot longer than when we use smaller size models. When they sit long enough, we will re-photograph the item on a smaller model, and based on our experience, the items sell at a much faster rate. As plus women, we want to show women of all shapes and sizes, but as businesswomen, we need to use what sells. So, if someone wonders, why doesn’t Curvy Girl Clothing use a size 24+ model, it isn’t because we don’t want to. As consumers, please take note of this and make it a point to buy items not because they look fantastic on the model, but because you feel it will look fantastic on you. Larger plus models will thank you for this as in doing so, you are helping them get more work.

I found myself at a High End Store recently. And I wasn't in a good mood about it either. I was killing time between a dentist appointment and the time that my normal store, the place where I get things like bras and underwear, would open.

 I like High End Store. They sell make up, they have stellar customer service, they gave me a credit card and have an AMAZING selection of shoes for my big feet,  but High End Store... well, its plus sizes are lacking.  I'd stopped at all of the fat lady clothing stores in this particular mall on this particular day and was pleased to see cute, trendy (if not cheaply made or too expensive) items everywhere. So maybe I had a second chip on my shoulder... and it was only made worse when I walked up to High End Store's Fat lady department to see a 19 year old who wore a size 3 manning the counter. She was on her cell phone and I heard a whispered "customer...bye" before she attacke...er...approached me.

A few days ago I found myself pawing through a sales rack on the hunt for the Perfect Hat (tm).  It had to let my short, shaggy hair set just right and not hover above my eyebrows.  It had to allow for warmth and seduction.  Pain and pleasure.  Allure and mystery.

 Obviously it had to not be on a sale rack in a dollar store.  

 Suffice to say, my hunt for the hat turned in to a hunt for the next part of my body to fix.  I've been on a mission, see: I'm going to fix everything wrong with me in twenty seconds or less.  This involves  drastic measures not the least of which to be finding a hat.  If I can find a hat that doesn't make my head look awkward then of course there is hope for the rest of me.

 But I couldn't find a hat.  Thus, there's no hope right?

Every single day we're bombarded as humans with a message of self-loathing.  It's wrapped in candy, food, clothing, accessories, medical expertise, institutional wisdom, and familial love.  It's wrapped in hats on racks in stores turning noses down at your entrance.  

 Wardrobes have a way of making us feel amazing and terrble - successful and failed depending on the day.  My lack of Perfect Hatdom left me feeling a bit of a failure for a few minutes, hours, maybe a day.  Then I passed by a magazine rack and remembered that my fat body is a failure already - according to a bazillion people and most all of the media.  

 That kind of helped.  I like that my fat body isn't Perfect.  I like that the rolls move.  I like feeling my thighs jiggle when I run.  I like slipping fabrics onto bare skin to feel them slip and slide.  And when things get stuck in a curve?  Awesome.

So I suppose I'll give up the Perfect Hat to the airbrush.  Instead, you'll find me in some other store searching for the Perfect Soap.  Can't say I've learned my lesson completely, now can I?