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July 2002
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and learn to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. ~Rainer Maria Rilke July 1 2002 8:56 AM I know I talked before I said Rabbit Rabbit today. I was muttering to myself about random stuff. Drat! I'm writing myself a tibbar tibbar note, right now.
Dollars Short did another coloring contest. TADA. My entry.
I love the coloring contest! I'm not really adept with Photo Shop. But, I love playing.
I'm sad about Rosemary Clooney. She has always reminded me of my Mother. My Mom has a wonderful voice, but never thought it was good enough. I talked to my Mom about it last night. Mom said something about Rosemary's weight. I said, " Mom, she died of lung cancer." " Yes, but I'm sure being fat didn't help her any."
Uh.
Cynthia came over for brunch and lots of chatting. Fun fun.
I was tired I decide to watch TV. I watched Mama Flora's Family. And parts of a film about the holocaust. I tried to avoid the commercials for all the new "reality" shows. So, lets see...racism, anti-semitism and people in compromising situations. Yeah. TV is so relaxing.
I didn't sleep well. comment
July 2 2002 9:23 AM
Kell did some straight up writing about NAAFA and the feeder thing. If you were curious about my oblique feeder reference to the feeder thing the other day, she breaks it down. And I agree with her conclusions. But I'm struggling with not wanting to see NAAFA die. I've done a lot of thinking about this but I can't seem to arrive at a conclusion.
When Paul writes up a post on Big Fat Blog he usually says something astute and sardonic. He's pointing to this article in this post.
Sondra is trying to put together a Southwest campaign.
And even Willa blogged about the Southwest thing, sort of.
It seems like the bad press Southwest has gotten over all this would have an impact on their bank account, but it's summer, people are traveling, it's cheap. I dunno.
I had lunch with the lovely Jennifer yesterday. Doncha think she needs to make a video?
I have to do things now. For an unemployed person, I seem to have a lot to do! comment July 3 2002 9:40 AM I did a lot of writing. And I kinda like most of it. Deep sigh of relief.
And I worked on some web design stuff.
So, I'm feeling kinda virtuous. All that could fade quickly today. Because I need to do more work on the BSWP (for those of you who don't remember, that's my Big Summer Writing Project ) and I need to do a pile of laundry. Makes me tired just thinking about it.
I had thought I might not write about my little blog addiction. It seems that the people who read me don't really follow the antics of my blog buddies. (See long list of links to the right.) I always feel a bit peripheral to the blog cluster/ Kinda like I arrived late and tried to stick my self onto the side.
But there are things that blow my mind. Elaine's son is b!x. They were having this family ...uh...conversation the other day. It was/is none of my business. I have no opinion about the issue. But I was blown away by the directness of the language and the fact that it was going on ... in comments!
I feel the need to keep my eye on and thoughts with Mike and bobbi. There was a blogger spat that I wrote about a while back. I was watching it unfold and get worked through in real time. Clicking and reloading and fretting.
Another Mike hasn't been posting. Which meant that I wasn't hearing about Henry. I checked every day. Today, when I saw the page, I was so relieved.
And Willa. I've been reading her for a few years now. It's like having an old friend ...except... we've never met.
I wonder if it's the distance that keeps me involved in these relationships. Many of these folks don't read me. I do feel competitive and jealous sometimes. I've had days where I thought about deleting my blog roll and never going back. I feel like I'm not getting enough attention.
But my heart aches when I read people putting their lives on a page. Voicing their opinion, showing their art, loving their kids and their cats. And, generally, they aren't famous. They don't have to get approval from a publisher. They just do it the way they want to do it.
So when I go back to working on my BSWP I feel a little looser. It's just about talking story. comment
What, to the American slave, is your 4th of July? I answer; a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. - Frederick Douglass July 4 2002 9:17 AM If you let your laundry pile up, to the point where you have five big loads, then you have to spend the whole day going up and down the three flights of stairs to the laundry room. Sigh.
But I did it. I was still folding laundry at 11:00. And there's more to do. And I worked on the BSWP but didn't finish it in time to mail off to my advisor. So, my virtue is in tack, but maybe a little tarnished. Oh well.
I have issues with the notion of independence. Ya had to know I would.
I remember when I saw the movie Independence Day. Big space ships. Start blowing stuff up all over the world. America leads the charge. And it's the geeks and the losers who win the battle. And that is the American notion of itself.
Big monarchy. Taxing group of folks who are trying to make something new. Tea vandalism. Raggedy army of geeks and losers triumphs over larger more organized army of the big monarchy. And the rockets red glare...
So now we watch fire works.
But. Those folks, who thought they were making something new, ignored the fact that they were making it in the same manner that the big monarchy did things. In other words, they ignored the rights of the people who already lived here. They ignored the contradictions in declaring all men created equal and allowing slavery. They assumed their entitlement.
Now, you could say that the acceptance of slavery was a compromise. And in Democracy you will always have compromise. But, I think it's that kind of reasoning that has gotten us into so much trouble.
Compromise can not include the subjugation of other human beings. Ever.
So we won our independence from taxation and rule. I get teary when the guy in the movie flies his jet into the big space ship and makes all the other space ships crash. I love stories of the people fighting against tyranny. But with freedom comes responsibility.
And who are we now?
We're never really independent from each other. We live in semi permeable boundaries. We effect one another. Sometimes we fuck it up and have to make amends.
So eat barbecue. Visit your family. Watch the sparkles in the sky. But think about it all.
Pattie and Carl show today. On CFUV. Noon my time.
Darcy's store was on TV but ... I missed it. Drat! comment July 5 2002 9:03 AM OK. I admit defeat. My perma links are borked. I do not know why. They never really worked the way I wanted them to anyway. I may try again. But not today.
Cheryl took me out for a birthday lunch. (I know. My birthday seems to go and on. I'm a lucky grrrl.) An amazing birthday lunch. Thank you Cheryl! Then we had to go the City Lights. But I was good. I only bought one book. And we talked and talked and talked.
Marie and Neal came over to watch the fireworks from my roof. It really is a great place, because you can see the two sets at the same time. One set is near Crissy Field and the other near the ferry buildings. Pretty spectacular.
Rockets red glare.
Well.
Gotta do stuff now. comment July 6 2002 9:03 AM Whatthe fuck?
I woke up in this crinked position, dreaming about kissing Prince. Sorry. The artist formally know as ...
My shoulder was hurting. I put on some of the magic Chinese medicine ointment that Lynn gave me for me knees and went back to bed. And I feel a little better. But I'm
out
of
sorts.
So, I had a whole little thing I was going to write but now I'm too cranky.
Ouch. comment
July 7 2002 10:03 AM
I did it again! I pushed myself into a hornked position while I slept with my shoulder jammed into the pillows. I woke up a few times and straightened out but then I'd do it again. I don't generally move around much in my sleep, so this is ... odd. And I had more Eros dreams. No George Clooney, but some guy (who I did not recognize) who was doing barbecue and we started to flirt and talk. What ever.
The dreams feel great. Even kissing the-artist-formally-known-as felt great. But I wake up in a knot. I think my hormones are having a festival.
I stayed in a pissy mood most of yesterday. My stepfather sent me a new mouse. I had to take ALL the books out of the hutch above the desk and move the desk out to plug it in. Which of course meant dusting. Lots of dusting. And reorganizing of books. And swearing. And listening. The new mouse is cool enough.
My thinking has been all over the map. In part because I was thinking about a much linked bit from Burning Bird. When I first began to read it I flinched at the notion of learned helplessness. It's not that I don't think the idea has some merit but I just tense up around the notion of tracking the cause of helplessness to the helpless. In other words - tell it to the folks in Jenin. But, it can be said that people who can elevate their situation often can't see how. I just want to turn to the folks who are creating the environment, the mystification, the oppression, and say knock it off.
Which is what I think Shelly is ultimately saying. Sooner or later people get pissed off. And they stand up and say no more.
I have long been an advocate for anger. Beth says anger is fluid. Yeah. She goes on to say that resentment is hardened. (I am paraphrasing.)
I saw something about commercials that pop up on subway walls now. It's like a video thing. So we are bombarded with mystification. We lose track of ourselves.
And worse, are the environments in which people are under constant surveillance, moving through check points to go grocery shopping. What agency do they have? How do we read their helplessness? And how do we judge their expressions of anger?
Well, lets turn around and track the power. And lets get pissed. And for those of who aren't in the direct fray of what is possible in terms of human misery, lets speak out.
But, listen. I spent yesterday being pissed off at dust. I'm blaming hormones. There's a macro and micro thing going on here.
And, in part, writing this little blah, blah, blah every day helps me to locate myself. Which clearly, given my recent spate of night tension, I need to do. comment July 8 2002 9:48 AM I went swimming. AriAsha and Leslie were there. It was great to see them. Then Marilyn and I went out for great Mexican food.
Exercise and good food put me into a zone, so I napped.
I watched Promises, which I can't recommend highly enough. It was very moving and painful. Hopeful and hopeless at the same time.
Then I watched a show on CNN about weight loss success stories. There were two. It was three quarters about how these two people lost weight and kept it off. And then one little bit of stuff about health at any size. Joanne Ikeda and Lynn Macafee (I'm pretty sure I'm spelling that wrong.) were on to talk about the fit and fat community.
I have much to say about this, but I need to run out the door. Stay tuned for long winded rant about media mystification. comment July 9 2002 9:32 AM I went to hear Glenn Gaesser yesterday. His book, Big Fat Lies, is coming out again. It's been out of print. He breaks down the obesity = death bullshit and adds to the health at any weight platform.
It's a relief to hear someone untangle the fat mythology but Gaesser did feel the need to say that he WAS NOT saying that fat was OK.
Yeah. Ya wouldn't want to start that kind of thinking. All those fat folks might start feeling feisty and storming Southwest.
But he was great. I'd like to have copies of his book on me at all times. Then when people say they just can't belive people can be fat and healthy, I could just hand them the book. Of course they wouldn't read it. People want to continue to hate fat and fat people.
One of the stories he told was about a quack diet doctor who gave his patients weed killer in an attempt to get them to lose weight. He caused some serious health problems for some folks and there were charges brought against him. He was acquitted because ... it's so important to fight fat that it's understandable that he would try anything.
Weed killer.
He was acquitted.
Yep.
So, I'm angry. And sad. Again.
It is good to have solid info. It was good to be with Marilyn and there were other fat community members there. Marilyn, Sondra and I went out for lunch. It was good to be with fat, awake women.
But, the resistance to these ideas is so virulent. And I'm tired.
I remember my post cocaine days. I lost 100 pounds and didn't notice it was happening. People kept saying, "Are you loseing weight?" And I really didn't know. Or care.
Then one day I pulled on a pair of jeans that hadn't fit in quite a while. I went to a doctor who had weighed me in the early post coke days and, in fact, I had lost a bunch of weight.
My therory was that, during the coke daze, my body knew it couldn't count on me for much. So, it held on. Stopped processing. After, I began eating regularly, not dieting, eating regularly and my body relaxed. I was also getting acupuncture and massage.
But I was still fat. I remember walking down a street one day, in my jeans that hadn't fit and now did, feeling pretty fine. And some guys yelled "fat cow" at me from a car.
So, it always confuses people when I say I was very fat during the time when I did cocaine. But Gaesser explains why in his book.
Gaesser is a doctor and a scientist. He is not a fat activist. He deals with data.
I deal with my heart. comment July 10 2002 9:15 AM Remind me.
Why do I do this? comment July 11 2002 8:46 AM I met with my advisor on the BSWP. She's so cool. She likes what I'm doing and has suggestions that put my brain into overdrive. I came home and wrote for a few hours. Talked to Suzanne and then wrote until 2:00 AM.
It feels great to be fired up about language. Clearly I needed some fire.
I've always talked. Talking was like sex for me and still is sometimes. I like talking deep. I'm not past talking trash but it never feels satisfying. Talking is confession, dissection, work. And deep relief.
I have some great friends who give good talk.
But when I get dark, talking leaves me. Words. No use. Nothing sounds right. Nothing feels right.
One of the reasons I like writing here is because I just do what I want. I ignore the rules. It makes it easier for me to go off, the way I do when I talk.
But...sometimes. Sigh.
So I'm working on the BSWP. Sending Elaine positive thoughts for a quick recovery. Wishing Jo Ann a Happy Birthday. And listening to Pattie and Carl. Climbing out of the pit.
Again. comment
This book was written in response to that creeping enemy of self-expression: entropy. If you've ever set out to create something, you know what I'm talking about, for sooner or later, no matter how well it's going, the whole damn system breaks down." -Suzanne Falter-Barns July 12 2002 9:16 AM My writing surge continued yesterday, but I was slower. I actually wrote all day, but with lots of breaks to talk on the phone, do the dishes, check e-mail, go down the street and buy green beans and beef in black bean sauce. So, the BSWP is creeping along.
And my attitude is creeping along as well.
I think I'm mourning. Maybe. Or something like mourning. I'm mourning my sex life, not having a child, not having a rock n roll band. Mourning the loss of all the things I thought might be true by now. And aren't. I'm not sure.
The BSWP is a memoir, so I'm immersed in memory. I'd like to finish it so I can stop thinking about the past.
It is useful to muse deeply about your past. There is a way in which unpacking old boxes, full of things you thought were true, gives you clarity.
But it's exhausting.
Coz some of the sad stuff is always going to be sad. And some of the anger is still easy to spark. And some times I have a sense of irreparable damage. Which is, in some ways, true. I am damaged.
But, I am also ... I'm not sure. I'm resistant to words like lucky and privileged. I mean, I am lucky and privileged, in so many ways. But it isn't like the one things offsets the other.
It all weaves together. The sad, mad, luck, joy, peace, war, stuff. It all weaves together and I sit and study it for loose threads and missed meaning. comment July 13 2002 10:32 AM Kell. Good gawd. Kell is writing up a storm. A STORM!!! Such good stuff that I had to cut and paste.
There's this gulf, between the thin world and the fat world. We're not visible,
as people, anywhere except in little spots of light, like Radiance or Fat?So!,
or Pinkwater's stuff. But the mainstream is the Shallow Hals and Friends, where
we don't even get to play the fat people any more. And, then, at the other end
of the extreme, which has gone so far, it's back at the bigot beginning, is the
endless stream of fat women as porn freaks. Even what for fat women is just
normal everyday desire is filed under fetish, and when we try to just be human
women, we get ridiculed back into our place as deviant-by-definition. Spoiled
identity, and then some.
It's such a relief to read lucid, pissed off women.
I'm still struggling with the NAAFA thing. I haven't been involved so I don't have any history. I've always been wary. It has always been a social club with a limited understanding of political will. And I think that's owing to fat psychology. We just don't believe that we deserve dignity. Why should we? Summarily ridiculed or ignored.
So NAAFA has a token amount of fat politics but it's couched in something. Something I can't quite name. But Kell names it. And, still, I can't get off the fence. I want NAAFA to get it to get fierce. Because NAAFA has some power. They linked with David Horowitz to fight Southwest. The are called upon to do press.
But...Kell, who has experience with them, names some of the problem.
Meanwhile, I'm still in a writing frenzy. Although, it has slowed way down. Way down. comment July 14 2002 9:28 AM Just when I was about to give up on the web...
Well, I wouldn't really give up ... but in my cycling depressive state I've been spending less time looking around. I readily admit that I'm a whacky chick, but I feel like I'm not totally connected to the blog cluster ( I read them ... do they read me? Does it matter? ) and I'm feeling too tense about things political to even start writing.
And I'm trying to use all my writer energy on the BSWP. Yeah.
But, this morning, while I was reading around, I saw that Bobbi is doing this cool day long project. So cool! Now, I'm going to be on line all day. Well .... except for when I'm swimming. Uh ... and writing. Heh.
Yesterday, I hit a wall. I planned to write. After I went to the grocery store and bought real food. But I started playing with ... my Sims. I ordered pizza. The day went by. How old am I? comment July 15 2002 9:46 AM I've been thinking about sex. And pornography. And representation. In part because of a discussion in the cafe about this site. In which Kell and Pattie, two of my favorite thinkers, take slightly different positions. And partly because of a show I half watched on MSNBC. And mostly because I keep hoping I will get to have sex. Just once more. At least.
I am not anti pornography. But most pornography is just stupid. I could say I prefer erotica, but that's not accurate. I'm often surprised by what turns me on. And it's rarely the same. What turns me on depends on stuff. My mood. How much I trust the source of what I'm looking at, or reading, or listening to.
But there is an idea that women need to have romance and foreplay and want graphics that reflect all that. That may be true for many woman and it is often true for me. But in a certain mood ... I'm just about getting to it.
Cat's stuff is problematic. Her index divides her pictures into body parts.
Which brings me to the MSNBC thing. (I wish they would have detailed the show on the site ... but no.) There was a woman who had breast cancer and had two mastectomies. She has a tattoo all over her chest. It's like a halter top and it's beautiful. MSNBC showed it. So, here's this woman on television ... topless. And I was thinking ...why is this OK? How can they show this, but they put the fuzzy thing on women when they're naked and they have their breasts? Is it really just the tits? Are they really separate? Is it only sexually explicit if she has nipples?
Cat has herself categorized in separate parts. And she's playing to men. And she may be playing to feeders. But she is making the images. She lives in a sexist world. She has internalized the idea of body as product. She's bold enough to demand that her body be included in the market place. Is it offensive? Sometimes. And it's sad. Sometimes. It makes me sad when women imagine their bodies to be divisible by tits, ass, legs, whatever. But I also kinda like that she makes the demand.
I'm interested in being whole. Heart. Mind. Body. I'm interested in a relationship that is whole. Heart. Mind. Body. I'm still thinking that love is the arbiter of beauty. And I want someone to want me. ALL of me.
And then there's the issue of ... is it art? Having struggled in Photoshop I often admire what Cat pulls off. And sometimes she does things that are kinda beautiful. And sometimes she is pornographic.
She also does this project. which is very moving. Not an equivocation. Just a thing I think is cool.
So, I'm thinking about this stupid thing that we do. Dividing bodies into parts. And then being afraid of those parts. And I'm thinking of my own sense of my own sexual ... marketability.
And I'd like it all to ... be different. Be whole. But until it is ... I think we'll go through some awkward experimental phases. And Cat's fat girl porn may be one of the stops along the way.
The question is ... if Cat were thin would those pictures be erotic? And why isn't the woman's chest, covered with beautiful tattoo art, erotic? And why aren't all breasts erotic? All the breasts longing to be cupped in the hand of the one who they want. The thrill of the hand that communicates the longing to connect. To breach the separateness. To connect the parts.
Not related to the whole sex and body parts thing but ... if you didn't follow the link to Bobbi yesterday you really ought to check it out today. In fact the whole project is worth spending some time with. Life. Ordinary life. Is pretty sexy. comment July 16 2002 10:42 AM I woke up having a dream that some friends and I were on some kind of journey. And we were in a mountain town. We looked up and saw some small tornados in the air and realized that there was a bigger one coming. We weren't sure what to do and I said well, lets sit against this wall. Which we did. And a really big tornado passed by us. In the dream I thought it was a monster. I felt this electricity in my spine. And then it was gone and we were all fine.
Wha??
I used to have tornado dreams all the time but it's been a while.
The pornography discussion goes on. Pattie took it to Fatty Patties and Kell did more on her blog.
I was thinking abut the etymology of the word. It's Greek, porne (whore) and graphien (to write). But I remember reading some where that the porne was not just a whore, the porne was the "worst" whore. In other words, in patriarchy, where men have the money and the power, all women are whores. Wives exchange their sexuality for financial security. Maybe a guy has a mistress who is very beautiful and he pays her a lot of money. And then there's the woman at the edge of town who you can act out all your silliness on and pay what ever you want. She's so poor she'll accept it all.
I think there's an intersection here with fat psychology. If fat women accept the idea that they are not sexually desirable, or only sexually desirable by guys with loopy agendas, they are living at the edge of town.
I don't want to live at the edge of town and I don't want to live in the big house. I want to live in mutuality with someone.
Here's a thing. Some of us are born on the edge of town. And I'm not going to critique what happens on the edge of town. I want the whole planet to make the shift. No one is served by acted out sexual silliness. Not ultimately. Mutuality in commerce and sex and life might be a more workable way to be.
So we move toward it. Maybe.
I remember seeing a Victoria's Secret commercial on TV around Christmas. There were women in bras and thongs with wings, all shiny and flawless. And I started to cry. because none of us are shiny and flawless. And many of the little boys watching that commercial are going to want those shiny, flawless angels. And many of the little girls watching that commercial will do crazy shit to themselves in a futile attempt to grow wings.
Pornography is everywhere.
And fat women were born at the edge of town.
I ate a vegetable dinner, got a chiropractic adjustment (Thank you Barbara!) and went to therapy. How's that for self care?
And then I dreamed about tornados. comment July 17 2002 10:14 AM
The amazing conversation in my comments yesterday (continuing today) and thoughts on pornography and representation are still moving around in my brain. And this morning I noticed this question on We Have Brains.
I am startled when people say they aren't feminist. I always wonder if they think women should vote. It really hasn't been that long. 1920. It took 100 years to there. Judging by voter turn out in this country maybe no one cares. Equal pay for equal work? Sound good? What's the resistance to feminism?
But then we find ourselves in a conversation about whether or not an image is pornographic and what I feel is the waves of emotion coming from a variety of life experiences. And feminism starts to sound like the disembodied rhetoric of a privileged few. By which I mean, if you've had to do some kind of sex work to feed your kids, you don't want to hear about internalized oppression. You want to hear about how you're going to pay the rent. It's a cart and a horse.
But feminism, for me, has always been about seeing the ways in which power is not balanced between men and women and trying to get things into a state that I describe as mutuality. I don't think men are served by the imbalance and I do think that they need to do the work of letting go of privilege. I think the rewards will be great.
The boys who long for the flawless, shiny angels in thongs are suffering. They're in a trance. They've forgotten how it feels to love someone in a way that includes the full life of a body. The full life of a body includes changes. Tits and asses succumb to the pull of gravity, but they are still beautiful. Bellies are marked by childbirth. Eyes and lips crinkle in the corners from the daily expression of emotion. Variety is beautiful. Do you really want to stay stuck in a twelve year old wet dream for your whole life?
But the men will need to make those decisions.
I keep having an image of a little girl spinning in new dress. She's saying "Look at me, look at me, look at me." And she should. She should want the attention. She should feel happy about her beauty. And if she climbs to the top of the monkeybars she should be proud of her strength and agility. And if she solves the math problem that no one else could solve she should be proud and she should be happy to have the praise. Praise is good.
And boys should have a full range of praise experiences.
We should all look at each other with shiny loving eyes. It's about all of us.
Bix blogged about the power of women. If you never follow my links follow that last one. comment
A mutual plum is not a plum. I was too respectful to take the pulp and do not like a stone. Send no union letters. The soul must go by Death alone, so, it must by life, if it is a soul. If a committee - no matter... Emily Dickenson
July 18 2002 9:14 AM
I was supposed to meet with my advisor for the BSWP and so I printed it out. It's 118 pages so it has some bulk. When you look at a thing like that on the screen, scrolling back and forth, it doesn't seem like that much. But then you click on print. There is something very satisfying about the weight of 118 pages.
Sadly, my advisor is unwell and she forgot our appointment. So I was sitting there, drinking coffee and eating a bagel with cream cheese for an hour. Kinda sad huh? She was very apologetic. It didn't seem like it should be a big deal, but I got a little manic. Might a been coz I was hopped up on caffeine and carbs.
I was reading Small Pieces Loosely Joined, the whole time, which is a nice enough book. I think one of the bloggers referred to reading it as drinking the purple Koolade. But ... ya know ... I'm already on the bus.
The key word in the title, for me, is loosely. About a month ago I realized that my experience of the blog cluster was the same experience I had of the school yard. I'm kind of hanging around in the corner hoping for attention. Some very nice girls visit my corner once in a while and I feel like maybe ... someday ... the others will like me too. Sigh.
But my friends read me. Many of whom don't even blog or have a site. And I realized I was wringing my hands and flipping my skirts trying to get the attention of ... some other kids. Meanwhile I know some of the coolest, smartest kids in the yard. (As evidenced in my comments.)
Yesterday, Kerykes commented, mentioned me on her blog (we fat kids do gotta stick together) and we exchanged a couple of e-mails. This morning I got e-mail from Leigh, who read Kerykes and then linked to me on her site. Ollie, who hosts the Fight Fat Phobia list added me. There are many yards converging. Which is part of what Mr. Weinberger is saying.
And yet. I wonder.
I still thrill when I see my name on a blog roll!! Once Mike mentioned me in his blog and I was high for ... well I still get high thinking about it. Why? Because Mike is cool!! AND ... he read me. He got me. He talked back to me.
118 pages. A mention by a blogger who I read and admire. My name on a list at the side of someone's page. Loosely bound. But it means so much.
There is a guy who did this amazing graphic thing. It was a 3D man who moved when you moved your mouse. Everyone was blogging it. It was on Day Pop. I blogged it and sent e-mails to people about it. Then one day he took it down and left a note saying that he was starting to care too much about what other people were thinking.
Uh. Yeah.
Me. I was freaking coz YACCS was on and off all day yesterday and my comments weren't there and there's been so much fun stuff in my comments lately. And I check for comments twenty times a day! Little girl. Spinning. See me. See me. See me. Sigh.
Maybe it's me who's loosely bound. Maybe I need to be more like Emily.
Pattie and Carl show today. Tune in. comment July 19 2002 9:55 AM Adrienne and I had dinner at Da Flora. Adrienne is one of my friends who gives good talk. And we did talk and talk and talk. And I had some risotto with bay shrimp and raddichio which ... was ... oh ... so ... good.
We were talking about the whole women/representation/beauty/esteem thing. My theme of the month.
I remembered a time when I was thirteen or so. And I was a hottie. No doubt. We went on a tour of a glass blowing factory and we were on a cat walk above where the men worked. One of the men was staring at me. Relentlessly. I got it that something about the way I looked made me a target. He felt no compunction about staring. Even when it was obvious that I was uncomfortable.
I used to think that maybe I was fat to keep men from staring at me like that. I don't think that any more.
A few years ago I was picked up by a cab driver who told me I could sit up front. He was a fat guy with an Eastern European accent. He was just looking me up and down and telling me how he like girls like me. And did I know about such and such a magazine? (Fat porn) He liked the girls in that magazine. He gave me his card and told me to call.
Oh yeah.
I wasn't scared. But it was so icky. And it didn't have much to do with me. Any fat body woulda been good for him.
This image that I have of the spinning girl is about the great joy and power a person feels when they believe they look good. And I believe we all ought to feel that way ... often.
I've been stared at by people who were making jokes about weight. Again, there was a sense that, in their minds, they had every right to stare at me, unabashed. I've been started at by children. I saw a little boy staring at me yesterday. He may have been thinking that I was fat but there was no judgement in his stare. He was just taking it in.
It's not the staring, it's the intent. And then it's the way I receive it. As a young girl I felt too vulnerable when the guy in glass factory stared. I felt responsible somehow. In the cab, with the guy, I felt a little slimed, but I shook it off quickly.
I just think there's a lot of shorting we need to do. I think we marry things in our head. Things that have nothing to do with one another. Or maybe that's just me.
But I also think that the culture enjoins certain kinds of staring and the attitudes that go with the staring. Which brings me all the way back to Miss Cat. There is part of me that appreciates her demand for equal access to the dubious world of objectification.
More importantly, it's the thing I ask of people all the time. When you look at a fat body ... really look. Ignore the first wave of fat=ugly, fat=unhealthy, fat=whatever. Look the way the child looked. Just for a minute. comment July 20 2002 8:58 |
