Here, Lizard, Lizard...

It's funny.  Issues don't exist in a vacuum.  They all feed on each other and when you take the energy away from one, it affects all of them.

A lot of things have been going really well for me lately, but the one thing I've been faltering on is my weight.  I decided months ago it was time to shape up; but all my efforts have come to nothing, and in fact I'm fatter now than I've ever been.  Granted, the upshot of all my meditating and self-analysis has been that I'm not upset about this as I would have been a year ago, but still, it bothers me, because I don't like being out of control, and I don't like how I feel physically in my body when I'm at my heaviest.

 
It has come to my attention, however, that part of what's been sabotaging me is that I'm afraid to lose weight.  Does that fear outweigh (pardon the pun) the concern I have about dying young and never being able to do the things I want to do?  So far apparently it has.

I hate it when I embody a cliché regardless of type.  I've balked against being a Pagan cliché (you know, a poly bisexual (preferably promiscuous) fat white woman walking around in sarongs with dyed red hair and sunburned nipples), and against being a fat girl cliché (jolly, indulging in secret binge eating, denying her sexuality, protecting herself with fat, et cetera), but sometimes, well, you just gotta embrace the possibility that you may, in fact, be a walking stereotype.

Stop me if you've heard this one before.

A survivor of sexual abuse and assault puts on a hundred pounds of fat out of depression (the need for comfort separated from contact with others), self-hatred (the urge to annihilate her body) and fear (the urge to surround herself with a wall of fat that will drive men away).  

It's so fucking Oprah.  But in my case it's still true.

As long as I've been a big girl I've attracted three basic types of men:  older black guys, Mexican truck drivers, and married guys.  For the most part these men have not been interesting to me, so I'm safe.  (Obviously there have been exceptions.)  But as long as I'm fat, I can blame my spinsterhood on my size.  

Because the question lurks:  what if I were to lose all that weight, and was still invisible to men?  What if it's not the fat that's been the problem?  What am I supposed to do without that convenient scapegoat if I'm thin and cute and still no one wants me?  

Men aren't really the problem, of course.  To broaden the question, think of it this way.  A lot of overweight women spend their lives waiting to lose those precious 20 pounds before they start living.  They put off trips, clothes, careers, and life changes until they're thinner, and when it doesn't happen, they're excused from having to face the fear of the unknown.  Fat is the devil you know.  What if beneath it, you're nobody?  Stripped of your outrage at the world for treating you like a pariah, you have to make it on your real merits, not your reactions to others' reactions.  

It's ironic that the fatter you are the more invisible you are.  But the world is full of thin, pretty women who are completely unremarkable.  (Don't give me that "everyone's a unique beautiful snowflake" crap; I think we all have the potential to be wonderful, but we deny it and end up settling for average when we could be extraordinary.)  More importantly, the world is full of thin, pretty, miserable bitches.  Being thin doesn't make you happy--you have the same flaws and bullshit as you always did, but now you're thin.  And if attractive people don't find you attractive, or find you boring or are just not that into you or whatever the going nonsense is, you've lost your blame-blanket.  You don't have that excuse not to get on with your life anymore.

So I've been getting on with my life, and gaining weight, and I am fairly convinced that it's a last-ditch effort on the part of my inner lizard brain to keep me from growing, except in the most literal of ways.  My fears want me to stay fat and unhappy because if I don't, I'm faced with the awesome responsibility of charting my own course in the world.  And if I insist on doing so despite my fat, said inner lizard panics and tries to up the ante.  

I said, "Fuck my fat.  I'm doing yoga.  And I'm going to this dancing thing."  And the lizard Moosh said, "PANIC!!! PIZZA!!! COOKIES!!!"

This is not to belittle the panic I felt after that whole thing; but that issue isn't separate from my weight, it's all intimately connected with a disconnection from intimacy.  I've always been afraid of letting people close enough to touch me.  If I'm out somewhere with MW and he puts a hand on my waist from behind my first impulse is to deck him, although I don't actually want to.  It's very hard.  That's the nice thing about being fat--people out in regular society don't want to touch you.  (Unless of course you're pregnant, in which case people will just walk up and grab your stomach like it's public property.)

Granted I'm not about to go out and try to convince myself that I want people feeling all over me; I'm not as concerned with having hard boundaries as I am with soft squishy ones that could give me Diabetes and have me shopping at Austin Tent and Awning for pajamas.  I'm not looking to become more touchy-feely; I'm looking to become more myself, and right now, I'm standing in my own way, facing up to fears I've been allowing to fester and stew for almost a decade--no, more like my entire life.  

I haven't come to any firm conclusions about all of this, but it's been percolating in my mind over the weekend and I felt the need to share it.  I'm sure I'll have more to say in the days ahead.

ETA: Please do not take the above post as a blanket statement about all fat women.  I am aware that people are fat for all sorts of reasons.  I have observed that a significant percentage of women share similar issues to mine, but it's not an absolute.

Comments

[Erin]

Every time I read your blogs it occurs to me to throw this out there. I wonder if either of the following blogs, which are about fat acceptance and Health at Any Size, would be of use to you or dovetail with any of the above, they are rooted in the establishment of self acceptance:

Shapely Prose http://www.kateharding.net - full of snark, but ultimately compassionate

The Fat Nutritionist http://www.fatnutritionist.com/ - about re-establishing normal eating and also a fair amount of snark.

faithful reader, infrequent commenter,
erincerulean

[rosewelsh]

Hi my bloggie friend person of snark,

About 25 years ago I started having issues with weight. It started way earlier than that, but I've got to put some sort of date on it.

Anyway in the late 80s I read all of Geneen Roth's books and _Fat is a Feminist Issue_ and decided to follow their lead; I stopped worrying about evil food and started living. I gained 40 pounds in the interum.
(I want to finish this post at my LJ... please see me there.) Rosewelsh

[Thalia]

I was going to suggest Shapely Prose, but Erin beat me to it. Kate has an excellent post there called the Fantasy of Being Thin.

You know, being fat isn't necessarily about Things You Don't Want To Face, or the lizard brain taking over, or insulation, or any of that psychobabble. And I say that as a sister Witch who does believe that we create our own reality. But, honestly, sometimes we are just fat. It is not a moral failing, or an indication of something we've somehow screwed up, or failed to get over. It is just how we are.

And also, and this will probably sound pretty harsh, but maybe MW needs to learn not to just put his hand on you from behind like that. You know, survivor of sexual assault and all might *just* have a reason for not liking that. You don't have an obligation to fit into the world. Your world, by which I mean your chosen people, has an obligation to accommodate *you.*

[Thalia]

Oh and as for 'dying young' of The Fat, it's just not true. Even so-called 'morbidly' obese women outlive men in the 'normal' weight category (BMI, I mean, not that that doesn't have problems and is for the most part a pile of horse shit). So if it shortens your life, it ain't by much.

Check out Junkfood Science, too. She's a libertarian, or leans that way at least, which makes me want to hiss and spit sometimes but she is good at debunking the panic over the 'obesity crisis.'

(And seconding the referral to the Fat Nutritionist too.)

[sophia]

i know men and being touched by strangers or acquaintances or strangers isn't the gist of your post, however, in case it helps you or your fat, there are other ways to keep people from touching oneself in public.
i don't even shake hands with people i am uncomfortable with. Nor do I let men do the casual freebie (cause they can get away with it socially) touching, like on the arm.
Sometimes it is subtle, though I will be overt if the subtle or verbal do not work.
I know what feels good for me and usually it is not being touched by all but a few.