May

This is funny. To me anyway. Remember yesterday when I said there was another Tuesday group of questions but it was on a password protected site? Today I noticed that the questions were answered on Life Uncommon. So this is the Tuesday This or That (and I'm not linking to the site ... for obvious reasons.)

Which is worse: a driver riding your bumper or someone pulling out in front of you with their car? I don't drive.
Can you do 10 push ups? Nope.
Do you bathe/shower in the morning or in the evening (or at all)? I shower in the morning after I eat breakfast and do my page. So, sometimes it's more like noon. Heh.
Michael or Janet Jackson? Uh......
Which do you enjoy most? Your bedroom or living room? Right now, since I'm in my living room, at my computer, my living room. And hour ago, when I was sleeping....my bedroom.
Bathroom or kitchen? OK, same deal. Hungry, kitchen. Bathroom, well you know.
Crayons or markers? No preference.
Leaves falling or flowers blooming? Both.
Fred and Wilma or Barney and Betty? Uh......
Fame or fortune? Just enough of both to do what I want to do.

Is it me? I don't think I'm that good at the question thing. And Wednesday has three. The Wednesday Whine.

Julia Cameron's advice to writers is to "keep the drama on the page." (page 40, The Right to Write) Where do you express your drama? Do you write about it, sing about it, fight regularly with a significant other or family member? After the drama has ended, how do you feel? This is making me laugh. I'm not a big fan of the Cameron approach to writing. And I am a drama queen, but I try to resist that aspect of my personality. But drama happens. And drama is it's own reward.

What do you think is the most underpaid and unsupported profession? Why do you think this? This is a good question to ask on May Day. Mom's should be paid. Teachers should be paid more. I could go into a long diatribe about women's work. But let's move on.

Name one thing (object, person, feeling) that you are happy that you have in your life. Now name one thing that is missing. How are they related? I love my friends. I often wish for romance. Are they related? Well, my friends make sure I know I am loved. They're just cool like that. But no, they aren't related.

"You must have chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star." -- Friedrich Nietzsche (Do what you would like with this quote!) I think I'll just appreciate it.

< whines > Why should we always have to use our "nice voice?!" Oh, I do not think we should always have to use our nice voice. Whine away!

Have you ever dreamed of being a star of the stage? Tell us about it. I was a star of the stage. It was a little stage. I had a band in Boulder, Colorado. It was great fun. And it also sucked.

No one can convince me that they didn't act up to get attention as a child. Tell us a story about your childhood theatrics. I used to sing Happy Talk, from South Pacific. I didn't act up so much, but I did love attention.

The mighty, mighty Pattie has produced an episode of "Women on Air" for CFUV. The radio station is showing support for a "Stinky Fish" action for May Day by highlighting the action and talking about the implications for women and Canadian webcasting. Tune in around five o'clock with your web radio. More radio fun from Pattie and Carl is here.

So, we're still in the day late mode. I found the third Wednesday question thing. It was Hump Day Humpers.

Who would you want to play you in the movie about your life? Camryn Manheim. Your significant other? Who? Do these people look anything like you? Kinda. Cameryn is taller. I think.

What rating would the movie have? G What would you allow them to discuss? Who are they? Mistakes? Sure. Drunken stupors? Yes. Fighting? OK. Getting Fired? Yeah. or just the good stuff? Oh no! Forget the good stuff.

This was a picture of something she and or her son had made in clay that looked like it might be a cow.

Lions! Can a lion tame its mane? What about you? Tell us your worst hair memory... I got a root perm once. The perm solution is just applied to the hair closest to the scalp. It was suppose to give my hair lift...er something. It burned my scalp and just made this crunchy mess of my hair.

Tigers! Can a tiger change its stripes? Can people really change? Oh...I hope so.

Bears! Who's a grumpy bear? 'Fess up - what makes you grumpy? I'm pretty grumpy. No need to 'fess up. It's usually evident.

I've actually been happy to use the question tour as a content devise this week. This is the last week of school and I should be writing papers. My brain is tired and somehow I must focus.

Here's an irony. The week I pick to do the questions tour, The Friday Five takes a break. I feel so abandoned. I was actually looking forward to the Five because it's something familiar. I've been finding the questions kinda overwhelming. Maybe because it's morning and the caffeine hasn't hit my adrenal glands. Maybe it's because I'm working on a paper about the Moral Equivalent of War and the Bhagavad Gita and Walt Whitman. So my desk is covered with books and my brain is struggling to form sentences that have academic merit.

So, thinking about who I would want to play me in the movie of my life puts me into tilt.

And while I mine the Internet for content questions that give me the spins, Mike Golby writes a devastating story of a suicide attempt. Jeneane writes about her rage. I read them and reread them and then I try to shake off the feelings and think about war. War. Heh. I can't stop writing to feel. I just have to get this done.

But, of course, that's nuts. I do feel. I am feeling. I remembered my own scratching at my arms. I used to come home from working at a diner on Sunday. I'd fill the bathtub with some bubble bath stuff that turned the water lime green. I'd make a LARGE vodka gimlet that was the same color as the water. I'd put Billy Holiday on a looping tape, draw a few lines of coke on a tiny mirror, get an ashtray and a pack of smokes and spend the afternoon in the bath tub crying. Every Sunday.

I cried about the man who was not in love with me. I cried because I'd lost my direction spiritually. I cried because it was the only thing that made sense. And I ran the blade along the lines of white powder and later along the vein in my arm. But I never pressed. Often I'd pass out and wake up in the cold lime green water.

I'm not trying to compete with the other folks who are writing about their depression. I don't have it in me. I have papers to write.

But my depression waits patiently, knowing I will return to it. It's a kind of narcissism that demands it's due time.

William James says this is why we still fight wars. "War is the strong life; it is life in extremis;"

I miss the Friday five. I want the calmer thinking about the details of preference. What's your favorite vacation spot? Do you have any allergies? What famous person would you have dinner with?

Well, the Dark Angel finale took a turn toward jingoism. The finale was pretty great but I cringed when they raised a flag. Granted, it was a flag that featured a dove moving toward light, made by a transgenic who looks a lot like a puppy and is very sweet (unless he's pissed). But it was a flag. And then there was the speech Max makes about them being made in America. Kinda problematic for me.

It probably didn't help that I was working on my paper about the purpose of war and the need to out grow it. So, I was in front of the computer with a copy of the Gita annotated by Gandhi while I watched.

The thing is ... this is a show about how physicality is created genetically and the variety of curses and blessings there in. So, I am a sucker for much of the metaphor. And I am proud to be a freak.

You e-mail your picture to an attractive person you met on the Internet. Do you mention you put on 30 pounds since the picture was taken? OK. So you can imagine my reaction to this question.

The country gets into a war you don't agree with. You're drafted. Do you fight? Wow. These questions are workin my nerves. I'm writing a paper about this now. There is not one answer.

At an out-of-the-way bar, you see a friend's spouse having a romantic liaison. Do you tell your friend? This is a tough question and I've had the experience. Actually, I was friends with all three people. It wasn't exactly that I saw them in a bar but I knew what was going on. I didn't tell. My friend found out and was mad at me. It just sucked.

There is one more Saturday question thing but the person hasn't published since last week. I could answer those questions...I guess. But I'm burning out on the questions tour, it's getting late, I should be writing my papers.

I saw a ghost yesterday. Adrienne and I had plans to go to our favorite restaurant. The one we ate dinner at before class, back in the day. We walked in and he was there. I was surprised that I didn't feel much. Just this dull thud of awareness. But, Adrienne noticed that my hands were shaking. We left and went to another place. She generously bought me a lovely lunch with a fair amount of booze. I love talking to her so it was easy to enjoy the food and the company and not think about the ghost.

Until I got home. I worked on the paper and watched my kooky television show. But my eyes feel full today. It all just hurts too much. I can't think about it right now. I have work to do.

So I went back to the Saturday question site that I had missed and they had put up new questions. And I am trying to do the full tour this week. My need for completion is overwhelming. So...the eight from the eighties. Eight questions derived from eight songs in the Eighties. Posted at eight. (Although, clearly, not yesterday at eight.)

What dreams go on when you close your eyes? Well...these days...stressful, scary dreams.

Today there is the Sunday Op-Ed. It's a little different. These are answers in search of questions.

I'm not so good at coming up with questions. I don't really think I'm that good at the whole question thing. I don't always get them. I still think they're a cool thing. A call and response from blog to blog. But I'm such a fussy girl. There is one more for Sunday. It seems that this blogger goes to other people's sites and says helpful things, or nice things. I may not have it right. And I may go back and check later. But I'm done with the questions tour. It was interesting.

Tomorrow is International no Diet Day. Click on the blue ribbon for details. I'll be in Justin Herman Plaza with other fat activists.

This is International National No Diet Day. Fat revolution activists around the world will stage consciousness raising events and celebrations. They will dispense literature debunking diet industry propaganda, perform aerobic street theater, and build community. But will they get support from the left?

Fat revolution has all the attributes generally embraced by the left. The issues are job discrimination; unbiased health care, access to public facilities and a public policy that asserts an individual’s right to not be excluded because of an attribute of physicality. But fat activists receive little to no support, instead obesity is declared a disease, conflated with a host of social ills, or dismissed as comic.

The dismissive attitude has root in one virulent misconception. Fat people are fat because they do not control their appetites and they are indolent. Such puritanical assessment of any group deserves at least a moment of deconstruction.

The National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance reports that fatness is most often caused by a combination of heredity and dieting history. For some people dieting fails 95 to 98% of the time. For those individuals choosing to remain at a high but stable weight and concentrating on personal fitness rather than thinness is a healthier way to deal with the propensity to be fat. Having made that choice, they should not be expected to accept a social climate of hostility and discrimination.

Mary Evans Young, author of Diet Breaking: Having It All Without Having To Diet and leader of the anti-diet campaign in Britain declared the first No Diet Day in 1992. Evans, a recovering anorexic, had seen a television show about stomach stapling surgery. One woman had popped her staples and was having them restapled, for the third time. Then Evans heard a report about a fifteen-year-old girl who had committed suicide because she couldn’t deal with being fat. Evans felt the need to speak out against the culture of fat hatred that engendered this kind of body mutilation and destruction.

In the early 1970's a group of radical fat women known as the Fat Underground put forth a political analysis of fat oppression. They drew comparisons to looksism, sexism, racism, classism, ageism, and ableism, and pointed to the economic power of a 50 billion dollars a year diet industry to account for the skewed content of media reporting toward anti-fat biases. Their work and the work of NAAFA was the platform on which fat people began to build their revolution.

In a world filled with violence and death, fat revolution may seem frivolous until you notice the number of deaths connected to the diet industry. On March 19 2002, consumer advocacy group Public Citizen filed a petition with the U.S. Food and Drug Administration asking them to ban Abbott Laboratories Inc.'s diet drug Meridia, linking the anti-obesity medicine to 29 deaths in the United States. Diet drug related deaths are not new for fat revolutionaries. The diet drug Fen-Phen has been linked to over five hundred deaths, five times more than the deaths that were linked to Firestone Tires.

And there the suicides caused by the climate of fat hatred. Add to the fifteen-year-old girl who inspired Ms. Young the story of Samuel Graham. Samuel was a twelve-year-old boy from Fort Lauderdale, Florida,. He had been teased in elementary school about his weight. He had dieted and tried to exercise. He was still fat. He hung himself in his back yard the night before he was to start middle school. There are many more. Deaths that can be linked to fat hatred and pursuit of the false hope spun by the diet industry and its media allies are generally the deaths of women and children.

A liberal reaction to all this might be to affirm the rights of fat people and perhaps do some self-examination for signs of internalized fat hatred. Would you date a fat person? A radical reaction would be to educate your self about the truth, join activists on May sixth and speak out.

It was a great fun day. And there was some news coverage. But some news channels covered the release of the new hope (and I say the word hope with teeth clenched) for weight loss. They're talking about something that we in fat activism have know for a while, thanks in part to Glen Gaesser. The body fights weight loss in a natural reaction to starvation. A distinction that I would think should be made clear is that even this natural response varies in different bodies. They know that there are different things controlling this response and one of them is the hormone leptin.

So...I guess we can all run and get our leptin implants. OR we can eat healthy food, exercise in reasonable amounts and enjoy a diversity in body shapes. Anyone watching Jennifer jumping around yesterday, and the fat cheerleaders, and the fat hip hop dancers, gets this. Everyone was very cute.

And Aung San Suu Kyi was released from house arrest. Which is the kind of news that makes it easier to have hope.

It isn't totally true that I'm not reading. I'm rereading some of the books I read for Ethical Issues and a few more while I work on the papers. I'm reading the Bhagavad Gita, annotated by Gandhi. I also worked on a piece for workshop about my India days/daze so I've been sentimental for that blissed out guru girl feel.

I'm sitting on the bus, and I've just finished a section of the Gita and I'm trying to remember my first mantra (it's been a while) and I'm trying to feel...bliss. We're at stop and a young man comes forward swearing about how the driver hit him in the head with the door and he's cussing the guy out and it's ugly. And the driver decides to get up and get into it. He's saying, "I didn't do anything. You didn't get off the bus properly." And the kid is saying, Shut up, who are you? You're nobody." And they do some more back and forth and then the kid gets off. The driver looks up at me through the mirror and says, "That kid has pulled a gun before."

And I could see it. I could see it when it was happening. I wasn't scared. I just felt like there were a few possibilities and we got to have the one where the kid gets off the bus.

It didn't plummet me into a pit or anything. It just felt like part of the writing of the paper. We are always on the verge of war.

Barbara was telling me that, as the month goes along and the before page gets filled, it takes longer and longer to load. So, I decided to move things every seven days or so. The May link has the earlier stuff.

Papers are done, school is over, yippie yi o ki aye. Is that how you spell that? I came home and watched the end of West Wing and American Family. I've only seen the show one other time and it was good. It was good last night as well but it was about the eldest son enlisting in the army after 9/11 and the father remembering fighting in the Korean War. After all the work I did on the William James paper I was tired of war. I didn't even realize how tired I was until I hit the bed.

Marilyn was on Crossfire yesterday. I didn't see it but the transcripts say it all. Some of the people who opposed Jennifer's case talked about the right of a company to hire who they want to hire. The guy on this episode of Crossfire said "it is really demeaning to those people, who have fought for true civil rights, to have their fight compared to the fight of overweight megabar babes to be Jazzercise instructors."

Marilyn did a fine job in the debate. The guy that was being so contrary was so idiotic and inflammatory. He kept saying things like Jennifer is not fit and demeaning her certification by the Aerobics and Fitness Association of America, with out ever saying why it wasn't a credible certification. And he said, "If you followed her through a grocery store, it would be white bread, frozen pizzas, Breyers ice cream, the whole bit."

Amazing. This guy knows what Jennifer eats. More specifically, he thinks he has a right to look into her grocery cart. I guess he thinks he has that right because he's making his point about her body being not fit. But I'm just gonna bet there are Jazzercize instructors who do eat white bread, frozen pizzas and Breyers ice cream but who don't have the genetic disposition that holds on to fat. Are they fit? Why aren't we worried about their food? I don't really know what Jennifer eats but she does six classes a week, some back to back. She's need to eat every other minute of the day to be fat.

What's weird to me is that Jennifer isn't really fat. Not to me. I guess my perspective is skewed. Or, maybe it's "their" perspective that's skewed. Or MAYBE...it doesn't matter. I appreciate the work she's done to break the mold of what fitness looks like.

Pattie and Carl are doing another radio show today at 3:00 on CFUV Today's topic is Who's In Control of Your Life? They will air interviews from people on the street regarding control, discuss a Mark Twain spoof of a Horatio Alger story, and review the movie "The Matrix" as the ultimate sociology movie. Sounds like fun.

Pattie and Carl were on at three yesterday...if you lived in the east coast. I don't. DOH! I need to read better. I didn't get the EST part. I figured it out at three...when I tuned in...sigh.

I spent the day going though the piles of paper that I've ignored for the past week. Reading blogs that I've been unable to concentrate on. (Golby and Wood_s Lot took almost an hour each) I've been on the blogsisters blog roll for a while ... but I didn't realize I could post there. Figured that out yesterday. Thanks Elaine. Thanks Jeneane. Tried to read and answer all e-mails, and clean up my inbox, outbox and deleted files. I have joined the ranks of the spammed. Let's see spam, telemarketers, commercials. Can't they just leave me alone?!

Didn't shower till noon. Ordered pizza. Did dishes at 7:00. It wasn't like there were that many of them but it seemed like I coulda done em earlier. Totally forgot that I have registration and financial aid issues to deal with. Didn't look for a job.

Didn't fully realize how tired I was. In the afternoon I went to lay down and an hour and forty five minutes later I struggled to wake up. After so many years of working one or two jobs, this last year has been ... odd. I mean I'm digging a debt hole that I may never fill. I don't really like not working. And it just doesn't seem like I should ever be tired.

I took a second shower at 7:30. I didn't really need one but ... I just felt like it. Put on new pajamas. I started reading Tripmaster Monkey on the way to school on Wednesday. I thought a novel might be relaxing...heh. So, I'm sitting on the muni, depressed, reading about a guy who is sitting on the muni, depressed, reading Rilke, outloud. It was not exactly relaxing. But I read it for a while last night. Before Will & Grace. (The show I love to complain about...first two minutes they say "it's my day off I don't want to read" "it's my day off I don't want to learn." "I'm going to boink my fat husband." "hell, I need to drink that."...why didn't I turn it off!!! ) And ER.

There were these commercials for ER that had a tag line...a show to cherish. Uh...I just can't cherish television. I've watched ER on and off. It's a good enough show. I cried watching Mark die in Hawaii. But cherish...if I ever start cherishing a television show...do an intervention.

I woke up at 6:30. Tired. Ate dry Cherrios because I didn't get myself to the store for milk. And made coffee that shoulda woken me and my ancestors. But...

There's no Friday Five today. And I still haven't cleared my head from the week long questions tour, so I'm almost happy about that. But my thesis on the question things building community is born out in the comments on the site where the Five is posted. Some folks are doing their own Five, some people are fussing, some are threatening to never come back. Oh well. Some are going into the archives and doing ones that they haven't done. Which might be what I would do, but I'm too busy figuring out ...what...I'm ...doing.

And it's true that I am in a curmudgeon phase and I'd rather be in my house, grumpy. But I did need to go out yesterday. I needed milk. I went to Real Food, since I'd heard that they deliver. And they do. I love this store. It's got all my favorite stuff, and a deli, a meat and fish department, and good veggies. It isn't as abundant as Whole Food but it's not as crowded. It's very mellow. And they deliver, FOR FREE if you buy more than forty bucks worth of food. So, I stocked up.

Kara came over and I made dinner. Pork loin, smashed Yukon golds, watercress and roasted tomatoes. She brought strawberries and we put em in a bowl with ice cream. And we drank a bottle of Syrah. Well,not the whole bottle.

I think I've said that I like wood s lot because he blogs art and poetry and really brainy stuff. And that's true. He blogs really important things.

Tripmaster Monkey is such a San Francisco book. They're walking though North Beach. The air of the city is so filled with poems, you have to fight becoming imbued with romanza. I love that.

I should probably say Happy Mothers Day. Not that my mom reads the page. I'll write about it tomorrow. But I had two conversations on Friday. One in person and one in e-mail. And I'm still having them in my head. So, I'm going to write out the inner blahblahblah.

So, you're in a room full of people who have just finished a great meal and someone says something about not doing that too often...or else...we'll get...FAT. Or a parent is telling a kid not to eat the eighteenth cookie and they say something about them not wanting to be FAT.

I think everyone has a right to their own esthetic of beauty. But it occurs to me that some of our esthetic is trained. Magazines, television, culture sends a bombarding message about what beauty looks like. And kids notice things. Parents communicate things to their kids on subtle levels. When you walk past a group of people of color, and you're holding your child's hand, and your hand gets tighter, they learn that there's something different when people of color are around. No one ever has to say anything racist, it's communicated in body tension. With beauty, children notice reactions as well. "Beautiful" people get a certain response and kids notice. So ... how do you know what you think is beautiful if you've never questioned your perception? Most people look at fat bodies and look away. Nothing to see there. Others stare and think hateful thoughts. Just once, or twice, look at a fat body. Really look. Try not react in any way for awhile. Just look.

I've worked on my loving own body. I've looked at it and stopped all the voices and just looked. I haven't tried to affirm anything. I've just looked. I've had some spontaneous moments of self acceptance. But they came from lots of taking the time to really look at my own and other fat bodies and not listen to the first response.

And then there's the health thing. Much of the conflation of fatness and bad health is junk science. You can be fat and healthy. Especially if you don't hate your body. Dieting is not healthy. Many times people defend dieting by saying that they just know they feel better, thinner. Well, the smart-Aleck part of me wants to say...oh do ya? ...in a sneering, jeering manner. The part of me that really does believe that everyone has a right to their choices usually just nods and smiles. But, dieting is weird. Eating healthy is great. Eating moderately is fine. And sometimes you just have to indulge. Dieting is punitive. Dieting is controlling your desire. I really believe that if most people work on being aware of their appetite they will naturally eat more and less in response to inner signals. That doesn't mean that we'll be thin but ... remember me...I'm not worried about that.

When you're telling a kid to not eat too many cookies you can remind them that they may get a tummy ache. Create awareness. Big soup to nuts dinners, especially with friends, are great, but not if you do them every night. Why add the threat of fat?

Not everyone gets to be fat. The people that study these things know one thing for sure...no one knows why anyone is fat. They know it is a combination of genetics and diet history. They think there are brain chemicals, hormones and a bunch of stuff that may influence getting fat and staying fat. Diet and exercise do mediate how fat, but there is a range of how much can be mediated. In other words, some people are just gonna be fat, unless they live on rice cakes and work out five hours a day. And there are people who will never be as fat as I am. Not if they lay on the couch and eat cake for six years. They'll be fatter. And they may change their metabolism. And it may be harder for them to lose weight after six years of cake, but for some people all they have to do is get off the couch, stop eating cake and they'll lose the weight.

If you think Americans drink too much soda and eat crap fast food and spend too much time watching bad TV and not moving, I'm with you. If you think I drink too much soda, you're wrong. I may have soda once or twice a week and I drink hippie soda. If you think I eat fast food. OH. You're so wrong. If you think I could be more physically active, you're right. But I can tell you that when I lived in NYC I worked out five days a week and I was still fat.

And if I did eat junk food and drink soda and watch crap Jerry Springer, so what? I can say I have judgements on all those things but not on the people who do them I have no feeling of moral superiority. At least not because of soda and TV.

Imagine I'm standing next to a thin or averaged sized body person. You don't know me. You don't know that I'm a food snob who has her television tuned to BookTV. You don't know the other person. They live on junk food, smoke, and watch the game show network. But if you're asked to guess who does what, you may guess me, based on my weight. That's called prejudice.

And what you need to understand is that people are denied jobs, housing, good medical care and access to public facilities because of their weight.

So, the next time you're with a group of your friends and some one says they're making choices avoid being fat...experiment. Ask them, what would be so bad about being fat? Ask yourself that question. If you don't ask those questions you are tacitly approving of the prejudice.

May 13, 2002 8:06 AM

I needed a new design.

I was pretty cranky. And then I got a comment from Christine at Infinite Pink. I spent some time on her site, looked at the great art. It cheered me up.

Then I decided to try and learn HTML. Again.

I spent two hours and finally got this done. Well,except it didn't have -the links open windows- thing, that came later. I took a break and then went back on line and read tutorials and studied the code on pages and figured out how to make my scroll bar pretty. I've been trying to figure that out for a while. And I found a site that was giving out the code for the -open links in new windows- thing. If you put a check in the box and you click on a link, it opens a new window. Then you can close that window instead of clicking back to my page. I prefer this when I'm looking around. Maybe because I don't have DSL and it's so slow going back and forth. So, if I can open new pages and close them ...I just like it better. But, now you can make the choice. I'm unlikely to get really good at code. I just like playing with the site. I don't usually like yellow but... it looks so buttery. It helped me to stay distracted from my cranky inner self.

And I liked Jeneane's new design.