You think you deserve this shame…
…BUT YOU DON’T.
In Me & you & everyone we know Miranda July’s character has “low ankles” & so her shoes always chafe her skin. She believes that it is the (obviously deviant) shape of her ankles, more generally, HER body, that condemns her to a lifetime of ill-fitting shoes & blistered & bleeding feet. When she’s at the department store, a shoe salesmen (who she ends up dating at the end of the film) gestures to her scabby ankles and says: “you think you deserve this pain, but you don’t,” and you can see her character’s whole body lift & lean towards him (like a plant towards the light). She, like many us in this aggressively self-policing Foucauldian panopticon of a society, has never considered that she was experiencing unfair & unnecessary physical & emotional pain as a result of crappy manufacturing, a deficit of fit options, a narrow standard of size/shape/construction that excludes most of the population. Being told that she ought not have to be ashamed or suffer for her particular individual body (part), so directly and matter-of-factly is revelatory & liberating. It is a sort of permission that allows her character to take more risks in love, art & life as the film progresses.
I stepped on a scale recently (with the idea of writing this post in mind) and I am about 245 pounds these days. My measurements - 48-42-55 at 5′3 - put me (in theory) in all sorts of size ranges depending on the clothing company & size chart. In practice, however, I’m wearing a 20/22 on bottom & a 18 on top. I’ve learned through different posts on a variety of blogs in the fatosphere that this (rather arbitrarily) is considered too fat to do things like tan in a tanning bed, go skydiving, & ride one of those teeny tiny miniature ponies. (None of which really feels all that regrettable to me, except for maybe that last part because small ponies - especially the ones that wear sneaker shoes - are very adorable, and I think I’d look most marvelous wearing some sort of cape & crown & riding one throughout my town). I’ve learned, from fat-hating society & industry, that I’m not supposed to feel angry or frustrated about arbitrary manufacture weight limits (or weak-ass ponies… kidding) but rather, that I’m supposed to shame myself & body into submission & slowly disappear until I’m considered a reigned-in & obedient & thin enough person to merit things like a fake bake & a safe jump from an airplane & a bedazzled saddle on a tiny horse. In the aforementioned situations, I know & feel pretty strongly that it isn’t the fault of MY body. While I might feel the pang of increased want brought about in situations of (perceived) deprivation, I realize that (being as we are, entrenched in capitalism and its attending ideologies of privation/saturation) it’s that & mostly only that.
It’s harder, much harder, for me not to feel body shame (& as if I deserve shame for my weight) when I’m putting the kibosh on going to a particular movie theatre (citing bad popcorn, small screens) beloved to my friends because the seats cut off my circulation in my hips after only a few minutes. & wow, do I ever feel like an asshole when I keep calling shotgun on road trips - not because I love the front seat, but because when I try to sit in the back (with two other people) I have to tuck my arms in tight behind me & hold my thighs taut & together, so as not to encroach on everyone else’s space. It is not easy, when I’m out with my writing group - where I happen to be the largest size - at the same popular diner/bakery we go to every week to admit that there is really only one place - the table with one armless bench side - in the whole restaurant that I can sit comfortably because of my size. As much as I am happy to talk about HAES & FA as general rules to live by with my (smaller) friends, I am hesitant to point out the ways my fat complicates things like concerts & movies & restaurants & amusement park rides because when such situations have been thrust upon me - one particularly dark day, while gaming with friends, a wooden chair runner snapped under my foot - the awkwardness of people’s reactions &, to be fair, of my own extreme shame & embarrassment are such that I never want to discuss it again. Much of the time it seems easier for me - and those in my company - if I just get to (or called shotgun on) the workable seating first, thereby avoiding the discussion all together.
A few weeks back, I ran late for Writing Group & my coveted bench spot was already taken. I winced and started to force my ass into the antique chairs with the arms that curve into a horseshoe (as if they were lucky!), arms that hit me at the very widest point of my long-torsoed body, arms that might be said to firmly embrace a smaller person but choke the life out of a fatty like me, & I thought about that scene in You & me & everyone we know. I thought about all the ways I do manage to assert my body & its worth & decided that, smooth social graces be damned, a second of discomfort/awkwardness for me & my companions was INFINITELY more preferable to two to three hours of me experiencing silent & sustained pain (and shame). So I* stood up looked at these women, & said:
“Can I sit on the booth side, because this chair is not rising to the occasion of fitting my most GLORIOUS ass?”
One woman laughed, and one looked surprised, and the third woman apologized, got up and offered me her spot on the booth saying:
“I’m sorry, I should have realized, since *I* [she’s a size 12/14] have to slide myself in and out or the chair comes with me.”
And yeah, I won’t lie, it was definitely kind of awkward for a second there, but surprisingly, I didn’t really feel humiliated.
Actually, I felt relieved and, if I do say so, a little bit empowered knowing that I’ll no longer have to rush to the restaurant for the coveted booth spot. Relieved, that if I’m in this situation with a different group of people, that I, having done it once, certainly have the ability to speak up again. More than that, I feel pretty proud that I was able to face the shame that many corners & sections of society would have me feel about my body and effectively say “No, actually, it’s YOUR tiny chair/attitude/saddle/tanning bed) that is inadequate, and I refuse to take responsibility or feel guilty on your behalf. It’s YOU, tiny chairs/saddles/skydiving instructors & equipment/tanning beds of the world who are falling short by failing to include & ME & all the other gloriously-bebottomed people like me because (among other things) we’re funny & smart & silly & smell pretty damn great. It’s you, who are not “up to standard” & therefore MAJORLY missing out.
* Not being a scene in a charming indie film there was, evidently, no dashing bench salesmen/waitor there, waiting in the wings, to give me absolution and back me up on the crappiness of the seating. But hey, it’s cool, sometimes we gotta do these things OURSELVES and we’re much better for it.
Bravo! I have, in recent months, made a point of always speaking out when my size makes something awkward for me - like when you ask people to move their chairs so that you can get past and they move about 1 inch! I find a jauntily stated “Actually, I am fatter than that!” works wonders!
And the woman’s comment that she should have realised you would have a problem, just goes to prove that when someone knows you they don’t think of you as a fat person, you’re just you! I have been struggling to come to terms with that recently, on the rare occasions at work when people make remarks about fat people or the so-called obesity epidemic. At first you assume it’s directed at you, then when they seem surprised that you’re offended, you realise that they don’t actually see you that way! And in a sense, I think that’s what makes it so hard to speak out at times - it’s as if by doing so, you’re drawing everyone’s attention to the fact that, yes you are a fat person.
DH likes to eat at Perkin’s every so often and he can fit in the booth, but I can’t. After one time of struggling to get in and out of the booth, I said “No more.” Now, when we go there and they want to seat us in a booth, I tell them I don’t fit in their booths, I want a table with move-able chairs (theirs have no arms, thank the gods). I’ve also left those “how did we do” cards at fast food places to let them know that I appreciate them having tables with move-able, armless chairs. I used to mystery shop McDonald’s a lot, and that was one of the things I always mentioned, that they didn’t have seating for fat/handicapped customers (this was 5 or 6 years ago). I don’t know that it was my mystery shop reports that changed it, but I did say in them that I wouldn’t eat at McDonald’s if I wasn’t being paid to shop them, simply because they refused to make accommodations for size/handicap. So maybe it does help to speak out about these kinds of things.
Brilliant. I don’t even understand the POINT of chairs with arms, unless it’s like an easy chair. It’s not like you are going to rest your arms on them. No, they are going to be shoved under the table, and then you will rest your arms on the table. No one of ANY size can comfortably rest their arms on those stupid arms chair arms. I have to sit in school one weekend a month with such atrocities. I hate it. And I am the kind of person who fidgets and shifts in her seat and then stands up and folds her legs under her and likes to sit cross legged in her chair, and those arms are just a royal pain in the ass. By the end of an 8 hour day, my hips hurt like hell. Quite frankly, I’d rather just sit on the floor. Chairs are restrictive any way. Give me a couch or give me death.
@ amethystblue: i think you’re right about the discomfort in drawing attention to my fat, but i want to be clear that it isn’t because i want to “pass as thin” and that i’m ashamed to be a fat person, but more so it’s because i (and others) fall into the trap of feeling (misplaced) shame at the inadequacy of things/people around us, vis-a-vis our fatness.
for me, it’s important to say “i’m a fat person, i am what one incarnation of fat looks like and discrimination and fat hatred affect ME” to people who would place me outside that category (because i’m not [insert fat stereotype here]) because it helps them to understand a)that fat is not the enemy because i am not the enemy b)that fat is NOT a moral issue, and that nobody owes anyone thin, or pretty, or blonde-haired or blue-eyes or any other conventional markers of attractiveness.
@vesta44: your results are awesome! kudos to you for speaking up for yourself and for taking the time to let businesses know when they are doing a good job! to be clear, i think it’s COMPLETELY reasonable of us (as fatties) to expect good customer service, unfortunately much of society (with it’s institutionalized fatphobic practices) doesn’t always agree. in my opinion positive reinforcement/response is just as important and vital to the FA movement as righteous indignation.
thoughtracer: yeah, you’re totally right, dining chairs with arms were evidently devised by satan himself! people of the world, saw off your chair arms and be free!
I know I said this over at Shapely Prose, but I gotta say it again…
“Because I’m big, blonde, and beautiful, there is nothing ’bout us that’s unsuitable…” :)
i want to let you know that i really liked your post. i thought it was terrific, and i congratulate you on moving past the shame. shame doesn’t generally help anyone, ever, so brava.
however, i do want to make a comment. (there’s always a however, isn’t there?) i take great exception to your inclusion of small ponies in with tanning beds, skydiving, movie theatre seats, &c.
ponies and horses are different than the others in that they are not constructed by people and society, breeding programs aside. when we talk about riding horses or ponies, we are not talking about machines or man-made structures. we are talking about living breathing creatures that are capable of feeling pain. and there is only so much weight that any given horse can comfortably carry on its back, and that is largely, though not entirely based on the size of the horse.
i am a former endurance rider, so am especially conscious of the fact that when we climb into a saddle, we are asking an animal to carry us on their backs. and the fact that these beautiful creatures do so willingly will never cease to be something of a miracle to me. and you know, big people should not ride on little horses - for one reason and one reason only and that is because it hurts the horses. it’s not the horse’s fault it is small, and not the person’s fault they are big, and there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of in any of this. i weigh 175 lbs and personally would never get on any horse that was shorter than 14.5 hands tall. and it’s not about the saddle manufacturer not making the right size saddle; it’s about not wanting to cause pain to another living creature needlessly.
again, i don’t want to detract from your larger post which was excellent. i just hate seeing ponies lumped in with other machines and structures. it’s one thing to design theatre seats to be larger. but the ponies are the size they are and have the strength that they have, and it’s not their fault.
[Waves to trishka — hello, fellow endurance rider!]
Trish’s comment makes mine all the easier — while I laughed at the image of riding a mini, the fact of the matter is that most true minis don’t weigh more than 200 lbs themselves…
(They could certainly haul your freight in a cart — I get my 300-lb donkey to do it all the time, that’s why he’s a “beast of burden”! — but minis are just not structurally built to carry any load heavier than perhaps a 50-60 lb child.)
I just uploaded a photo of this Big Girl on her 15-hr Arab gelding — ordinarily I, too, prefer a larger mount, but he seems to be tough as nails & manages my 220-lbs-w/-tack gracefully. (I will update after we successfully — or not! — complete his 1st LD ride this weekend.)
Glad to have found your site.
honestly folks, i think it’s pretty clear from my mention of capes & crowns & the word “kidding” that i DON’T think ponies are furniture or that their size is their fault. i know they are meant for children (as most thinking and intelligent humans do) and that is why i didn’t feel the need to keep saying “of course i am kidding and these ponies aren’t meant to be ridden by adults” because i try not to patronize people. apparently i should add it in though, since people are concerned that my joke, (followed by the words kidding to INDICATE IT IS, IN FACT, A JOKE) is some sort of call to pony abuse, to which all i can do is throw my fat (non-pony hating) hands in the air and say SERIOUSLY? SERIOUSLY THIS IS WHAT YOU TOOK AWAY FROM THIS?
my statement that i weigh too much to ride a tiny pony is a STATEMENT OF FACT. the contrast between ponies and things with actual arbitrary weight cut offs is there PRECISELY BECAUSE ITS SHEER ABSURDITY INVOKES HUMOUR. It is like me calling out elephants for not having wings because i want to fly through the air on one! (how dare they be wingless!)
there is not a single point in the post where i seriously and indignantly blame ponies for being small. i realize that these ponies are TOO SMALL for me to ride and that they cannot change this fact.
As a Tiny Pony Trainer ™, I feel it is my sworn hoofocratic oath to respond to the barrage of anti-pony-riding comments.
I have been specializing in Tiny Pony endurance training for 84 years, 9 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days, and therefore I know more than any of you that Tiny Ponies can not only bear the load of several fatties at once, but were genetically bred to replace steam engines in the 1890s. Sadly the program was outsourced before it was able to be implemented, but to this day TPs are trained in Supar Sekrit Facilities in such programs as Skyscraper Foundations and Bridge Infrastructure. In fact only this morning my own TP was hauling cinderblocks from my country home to my new condo in the city (unshoed of course, though he will someday graduate to wearing ninja stars on his feet), while I drove my car (which consists of four Tiny Ponies roped together - next year I hope to graduate to a 6 TinyHorsePower engine).
I would like to educate you further, but I must get back to my Tiny Pony Cog Factory, and check on their progress.
Equestrianally Yours,
Ninth