A rant.

Reproduced with kind permission from an awesome woman who posts on one of my forums:

I’m getting really tired of all the “rules” women are supposed to follow to be seemingly presentable in public. It’s not just what’s been said in that thread, it’s everything, everywhere. It’s not good enough that your hair is clean, it shouldn’t be thrown into a ponytail or up in a clip, because that’s lazy. Sure, you showered and smell alright, but are you wearing make-up? Are you wearing make-up that covers your blemishes and highlights your eyes and gives you the appearance of being fresh-faced and young? Your lipstick should last all day, you know; by the way, you should wear lipstick, gloss or chapstick isn’t enough. Have you plucked your brows? How about your crotch, is that hairy? Take care of that, because if for any reason you need to remove your panties, you want your poon to look pretty. Shave your legs, and while you’re at it, tan them. Oh you don’t have time to sit in the sun? Use the bottled shit. Don’t go too overboard though, or else you’ll look orange, and that’s also bad. How nice are your clothes? Do your shoes match your outfit, and do they have 4 inch heels? Are your nails painted in a pleasing shade? Do they match your toenails? Don’t show your toe hair! You need this wrinkle cream. And this under-eye cream. And hey, how about some Botox? Or this cream that’s like Botox without the surgery? Because old people are ugly, you know. Wrinkling isn’t cool. Dye your hair! Nobody wants to see that gray shit. Don’t dye it the wrong color though, or you’ll look trashy/punky/cheap. Lift your boobs! Not that high, you slut! Wear this body-shaper to keep your tummy and love handles in check, because fat people are disgusting.

Whatthefuckever. If you don’t like something about the way I look, don’t fucking look at me.

Creature Comforts USA

I adore Creature Comforts; they can take mundane conversations and turn them into hilarious commentary when voiced by their goofy animals. I found this clip of an American version (which I had no idea existed and am very excited about watching more), wherein the animals discuss their appearance. It’s sweet, sad, funny and poignant, all in less than 10 minutes. Enjoy.

Pictures, words and all that.

This makes me smile.

Attention: Our Bodies Change Throughout a Lifetime.

During a baby’s first year of life, it will learn to crawl, walk, sing, talk, clap, eat and play. Birth weight will triple by the end of the first year, and body proportions will change dramatically.

The next few years mark more dramatic growth spurts, so by the time a child reaches the age of 5, it will be 2/3 the height of an average adult.

The onset of puberty can begin as early as 7 or 8 years of age, bringing more rapid changes that will ultimately lead to a fully matured adult body about a decade later.

For a pregnant woman, the body undergoes monumental changes: enlarged uterus and breasts; increased cardiac output by 30%-50%; increased volume of blood by about 50%; overworked kidneys; enlarged circumference of the chest to accommodate the lungs; increased breathing rate; various disruptions in the digestive tract; changes in the skin including dryness, blotchiness, stretch marks and varicose veins; larger amounts of hormones in the body including estrogen, progesterone, thyroid hormone, and many others; joint and muscle pain due to loosening of the ligaments. Also worth mentioning are the aftermaths of labour and delivery that can be felt for weeks and months afterwards and the changes in breast tissue due to breastfeeding.

Illness can change a body in very dramatic ways. Patients undergoing chemotherapy can experience changes such as: nausea and vomiting, hair loss, fatigue, increased chance of bruising and bleeding, anemia, infection, intestinal problems, appetite and weight changes, sore mouth, gums, and throat.

As the human body ages, more changes take place. Hair grows where it didn’t before, hair disappears where it used to grow before, veins enlarge, skin thins, gravity takes hold. Wrinkles appear, and at the same time, a zit or two shows up. Noses and ears continue to grow and we will never look as we did 20 years ago.

Why should our weight be any different?

Taking stock.

I do not fear food.

I am not obsessed with calories, fat grams, “sins”, or “good” food.

I have never suffered from an eating disorder, even though my mother has been both anorexic and bulimic during my youth.

I have very rarely been mocked for my weight or appearance.

I am in a stable, loving relationship.

I have three beautiful children who are healthy and happy.

I have enough food in my cupboards and fridge to nourish everyone in my home.

I do not have to worry about where my next meal will come from, or if my children are getting enough nourishment.

I am astonishingly lucky, and I need to remember that. I need to be more grateful, and more at peace. I’m still working on that.

12 week old baby “bordering on overweight”

A mother on a forum I frequent had a well-baby checkup for her 12 week old daughter, and the baby weighed in at 14 lbs, 2 oz (90th percentile) and 24 inches long.

Her paediatrician told her that the baby is “bordering on overweight”.

I am burning. Can someone explain to me how a fully breastfeed three month old baby can be classed as overweight? How is that even possible?

I have big babies. Two out of three of my kids were over 10 lbs at birth, and all three of them grew exponentially during their first six months of life — I think I probably have miracle-gro mixed in with my milk or something. At no point was I told that my child was too fat.

Thankfully, this new mother on my forum is very confident and took her doctor’s advice with a grain of salt. She is considering changing doctors based on a few factors, actually. But what about the new mothers out there who are unsure of themselves and put total faith in what their doctors say? What would those mothers do in reaction to their doctor telling them their 3 month old is at risk of becoming overweight? Would these gloriously chubby babies be put on a doctor-prescribed “diet”?

I am horrified at the thought.

Friday Fluff: How does she know that you love her?

My kids love Enchanted with a fierce, undying passion. My eldest daughter is Giselle, my son is Edward, and they dance and twirl around the living room together all the time. I really enjoy the movie as well, especially the song and dance number in the park. It’s a catchy song and the extras in the background are really interesting to watch.

Even more, I like the words of the song. It makes me think about how I show my family how much I love them, but also how I show I love myself.

What do you do to care for yourself spiritually, physically, emotionally, mentally? What did you do today to show yourself you care?

As for me, I took a bubble bath first thing this morning. It was a great way to start the day.

Diets are BORING.

I was suckered into a diet conversation today at mother’s group. This surprised me (though, it probably shouldn’t have — mothers of young children talk about losing weight all the time), and in the end I had to leave the room.

I’m not interested in how few “sins” your dessert was last night. I’m not interested in how “amazing” your diet is because you “don’t feel hungry all the time” and you can have “3 1/2 sins every day!1!”. Talking about what you’ve eaten over the past week in excrutiating detail isn’t my idea of stimulating conversation.

If I wanted to talk about mundane details of life, I wouldn’t have come to a group with built-in daycare. Instead, I would have hung out with my one year old and talked about all the trees and cars we can see as we walk down the sidewalk, over and over and over again. (which, you know, is cute and all, but not for an hour straight.)

I realise that people on diets are pretty emotionally attached to them, so I didn’t tell this room of women that diets don’t work and that she’s hurting herself. But I can’t listen to it, and I certainly couldn’t sit there nodding or feigning interest.

Not so sure.

So this blog has been inactive for a while, because my life has been incredibly busy recently. I was rehearsing for a community theatre production of The Mikado, then I jetted off to my homeland (leaving the husband and kids behind) to visit family for two weeks. After struggling to recover from jet lag and a bout of illness, I had to perform in the musical every night for an entire week. Frankly, I’m exhausted.

But I’ve been thinking. I’ve been paying attention to the world around me and the things people say. My observations are disjointed, but I feel like I just need to write for now. Maybe I’ll be coherent in future posts. Maybe.

1. I live in the UK. Because we would have to pay for a TV licence in order to watch television, we eschew it. We watch DVD’s, and download certain TV shows we want to watch, but otherwise I don’t get much exposure to a lot of advertising. When I was in the states, I watched a bit more TV, and I was shocked at the amount of weight-loss related advertising I saw. Maybe it’s like that over here; I don’t know for sure. But it depressed me to realise that this battle we’re fighting against body hatred and fat hatred seems so insurmountable. Bah.

2. My new sister-in-law, who has given herself severe digestion problems and possibly IBS through the misuse of laxatives and the like, still thinks of herself as fat (she wears a size 10 or something) and drinks slimfast by the box. She’s freaking beautiful, my brother adores the very ground she walks on, and she’s so caught up with hating herself that she’s turning into a very clingy wife. I feel so sad for her, and I don’t know how to help her. She lives halfway across the world, I barely know her, and I don’t think my unasked-for input would help or even be heard.

3. When I was performing in the musical, the changing rooms backstage were communal. Both men and women had to strip off in front of one another. When I first heard about this arrangement, I felt slightly concerned and embarrassed. I didn’t want people to look at me as I was changing my clothes! But when the time came, I realised that noone else wanted people to look at them, either. And also? The most insecure woman there, who constantly belittled her looks and appearance, was very thin and attractive by the world’s standards. She also battles her fears of aging (she’s in her mid to late 50s) but I was rather shocked by the things she was saying. I usually counteracted her words with mild statements like “We will never be perfect enough — too fat, too thin, too old, too whatever. We can’t win, so I choose not to participate in the battle.” or when the talk inevitably came to sizes of clothing, “I refuse to worry about what size I am. You can walk into three different shops and come out with clothes in three different sizes. It makes no sense, and I can’t be bothered with it.” In every case, I would hear murmured assent, as if these women wanted to believe me, but just couldn’t. I know what I’m saying makes sense. No one else seems to get it.

4. I refuse to hate my body. Absolutely refuse. This doesn’t mean that I don’t have ‘bad days’ or that when I see a glimpse of my reflection in a passing car window, I don’t shudder a bit because my face looks distorted and I wasn’t prepared to see that particular expression, and do I really look like that? No, I’m not there yet. But I chuck those thoughts out of my head as quick as I can. I’m improving.

So that’s it for now. I’m writing again. I may be back soon, maybe not. I’m feeling really overwhelmed by all the fat phobia and fat hatred out there. I just realised recently that I’ve been living in a bubble of mother&toddler groups and church friends. My exposure to the media is limited and, somehow, I never really noticed how pervasive and insidious this attitude can be.

Why I love my fat arms.

They have stretch marks. They have the “bingo wave” refined to an art. They aren’t particularly muscular-looking. They have the forearm fat flap.

But it’s all good. They are strong enough to move furniture, and long enough to reach the top of shelves. They are especially good at hugging my children.

The forearm fat flap is very convenient, though. When I’m holding a heavy, wriggling toddler who is about to slip out of my grasp, having that extra bit of grip to keep her from running off to freedom comes in handy. She may wriggle herself around so she’s practically hanging upside-down and screaming to be set free in the middle of the supermarket parking lot, but my grip will not relent. She is safely, firmly, and cushily within her mother’s grasp.

So yeah. Fat arms rule, yo.