Fat! Fat! Fat!
I ran across this little tidbit in the NY Times article Science's Quest to Banish Fat in Tasty Ways:
"Do we really need low-fat fried chicken?" I asked myself after reading this...
And then I saw this pic of JD Lasica taking a pic of me, and I thought,
"wow...I'm big..."
Well, I'm not as big as some people I guess...then again, I'm no lightweight. I had to get used to looking at myself. I could see there used to be a bodybuilder underneath the weight--I still have a well-developed butt...well, maybe a little too well-developed...and if I were a guy, I'd be one of those little, stocky Italian guys...
I'd be "stocky"...not "fat."
Last night over dinner, I put down my fork and said to Steady Eddie, "I'm pretty big, aren't I?"
"Well, you're big...."
"I'm sorry I'm so fat."
I shouldn't be apologizing for my size.
"You don't need to apologize," he said, and came over and hugged me.
I feel like I should though. When the NY Times reports that scientists are trying to develop a low-fat deep fried chicken, the governor of Arkansas is
putting his state on a diet, and , Carbophobia is now a nationally-recognized eating disorder, and even Saint Oprah, a really twisted self-loathing individual, jumps on the "I hate fat people" bandwagon by excoriating an overweight wife in front of the woman's preening peacock of a husband, and just about defending his infidelity because his wife got "too fat" for him....
Well, I didn't know whether to explode or crumple into an avalance of tears.
I don't want to go on a diet. But I don't want to be considered "unattractive" either. I don't eat excessively, but I love food the way I love sex--rich, exotic, and full of the flavors of life. I love meals that take about two hours (or longer) to eat. I love medium rare steaks, fresh-caught fish, nice French wines, broiled asparagus, green beans almondine, stuffed mushrooms, good rich coffee, cream brulle, and Italian pastries.
And mo matter what they try to tell me, diets are always full of raw broccoli, vinegared salads, dried up chicken breasts, tasteless flounder filets, and sugar-free, aspartame loaded jello. Everything that gives me either heartburn, gas, or a sense of being left out of the party of life.
Yet when I look in the mirror, or look at the pictures, I am the classical Italian momma--short and round--and it scares me.. I should be standing over a pot of marinara, with a big wodden spoon, wearing a calico apron and thick-soled black shoes. I should be married to a construction worker named Vinnie and whacking my sons upside the head for disrespect. Or wearing gold shoes and big earrings, working on my tan at The Shore with my wiseguy husband Mike...and whacking my sons upside the head for disrespect.
But that's not me. I wasn't raised to be that way....even though I was born that way...
Which makes me truly angry at the rush to paint all women who are not a size 2 as being compulsive overeaters who are self-destructive. That's someone else's self-hating issues being projected on a mass of women who might just be the way we are because of our genetic make-up. We are not burdended with eating problems and a hatred of life. We're not lacking in spirituality or weak-willed...merely that our genetic makeup predisposes us to a stereotype that is considered very, very bad in our thin-obsessed American society.
We are not tall blond princesses, or petite little fit-in-your-pocket brunettes because we just weren't made that way in the beginning in our mother's wombs.
There is a big difference between the way we are made in the womb and the ways we can eat ourselves fat. But, in today's world, anyone who is not a certain kind of thin is immediately branded as being an over eater with emotional problems--thanks, in part, to Oprah Winfrey and her constant spleen-venting of her own problems.
We are not all Oprah any more than we are Jane Pauley.
I hate the way I feel right now -- guilty for enjoying life and all its gusto. Guilty for being born part Italian and getting the "stocky" end of the gene pool. I hate feeling the pressure to put myself thru a gastrointestinally torturous diet so that I can be thin and socially acceptable.
I'm sick of having no controll over a worldview I cannot change and over a genetic destiny I can't change either.
I won't torture myself to please others. Besides, with the way I'm made, I won't be able to please them anyway.
I'm here. I'm short. I'm fat. I've got a big personality and green eyes and I can outfuck the skinny chicks any day becasue I've got the energy and the stamina to do it.
Get used to me the way I am. I'm not getting smaller any time soon.
Low-fat fried chicken may seem like a contradiction in terms, but not to Stephen Kelleher. On a recent summer morning, he hovered over a whirling assembly line as a waterfall of gray liquid cascaded over slabs of breaded chicken. Then the magic began.
"Do we really need low-fat fried chicken?" I asked myself after reading this...
And then I saw this pic of JD Lasica taking a pic of me, and I thought,
"wow...I'm big..."
Well, I'm not as big as some people I guess...then again, I'm no lightweight. I had to get used to looking at myself. I could see there used to be a bodybuilder underneath the weight--I still have a well-developed butt...well, maybe a little too well-developed...and if I were a guy, I'd be one of those little, stocky Italian guys...
I'd be "stocky"...not "fat."
Last night over dinner, I put down my fork and said to Steady Eddie, "I'm pretty big, aren't I?"
"Well, you're big...."
"I'm sorry I'm so fat."
I shouldn't be apologizing for my size.
"You don't need to apologize," he said, and came over and hugged me.
I feel like I should though. When the NY Times reports that scientists are trying to develop a low-fat deep fried chicken, the governor of Arkansas is
putting his state on a diet, and , Carbophobia is now a nationally-recognized eating disorder, and even Saint Oprah, a really twisted self-loathing individual, jumps on the "I hate fat people" bandwagon by excoriating an overweight wife in front of the woman's preening peacock of a husband, and just about defending his infidelity because his wife got "too fat" for him....
Well, I didn't know whether to explode or crumple into an avalance of tears.
I don't want to go on a diet. But I don't want to be considered "unattractive" either. I don't eat excessively, but I love food the way I love sex--rich, exotic, and full of the flavors of life. I love meals that take about two hours (or longer) to eat. I love medium rare steaks, fresh-caught fish, nice French wines, broiled asparagus, green beans almondine, stuffed mushrooms, good rich coffee, cream brulle, and Italian pastries.
And mo matter what they try to tell me, diets are always full of raw broccoli, vinegared salads, dried up chicken breasts, tasteless flounder filets, and sugar-free, aspartame loaded jello. Everything that gives me either heartburn, gas, or a sense of being left out of the party of life.
Yet when I look in the mirror, or look at the pictures, I am the classical Italian momma--short and round--and it scares me.. I should be standing over a pot of marinara, with a big wodden spoon, wearing a calico apron and thick-soled black shoes. I should be married to a construction worker named Vinnie and whacking my sons upside the head for disrespect. Or wearing gold shoes and big earrings, working on my tan at The Shore with my wiseguy husband Mike...and whacking my sons upside the head for disrespect.
But that's not me. I wasn't raised to be that way....even though I was born that way...
Which makes me truly angry at the rush to paint all women who are not a size 2 as being compulsive overeaters who are self-destructive. That's someone else's self-hating issues being projected on a mass of women who might just be the way we are because of our genetic make-up. We are not burdended with eating problems and a hatred of life. We're not lacking in spirituality or weak-willed...merely that our genetic makeup predisposes us to a stereotype that is considered very, very bad in our thin-obsessed American society.
We are not tall blond princesses, or petite little fit-in-your-pocket brunettes because we just weren't made that way in the beginning in our mother's wombs.
There is a big difference between the way we are made in the womb and the ways we can eat ourselves fat. But, in today's world, anyone who is not a certain kind of thin is immediately branded as being an over eater with emotional problems--thanks, in part, to Oprah Winfrey and her constant spleen-venting of her own problems.
We are not all Oprah any more than we are Jane Pauley.
I hate the way I feel right now -- guilty for enjoying life and all its gusto. Guilty for being born part Italian and getting the "stocky" end of the gene pool. I hate feeling the pressure to put myself thru a gastrointestinally torturous diet so that I can be thin and socially acceptable.
I'm sick of having no controll over a worldview I cannot change and over a genetic destiny I can't change either.
I won't torture myself to please others. Besides, with the way I'm made, I won't be able to please them anyway.
I'm here. I'm short. I'm fat. I've got a big personality and green eyes and I can outfuck the skinny chicks any day becasue I've got the energy and the stamina to do it.
Get used to me the way I am. I'm not getting smaller any time soon.
posted by Tish Grier at 5:18 PM
8 Comments:
You made me smile at the end of a really longggg day.
If you're healthy and you really do have the stamina that you say you do, then by all means enjoy who you are.
You don't have to be a size 6 or an 8 or a 10 to be healthy. :-)
And by the way, the foods you said you love - they're all just fine! Enjoy them! Just don't enjoy 3 helpings of all of them at every meal. Because if you do that, it won't be how you look that's the problem it will be that you no longer have that special stamina and that's what's important.
:-)
You know, they call women like you stunning and beautiful in the Caribbean... and in most of the world, in fact. In North America, we have this thing for crazy thin women that women have somehow bought into. If you could swing an airline flight to the Caribbean and a week's hotel, it would do your psyche more good than a year's worth of counselling.
Shalom Tish,
I'm one of those guys who thinks women should look like women, not adolescent boys.
I think that being fat to the point of health risk is unattractive and indicative of other problems, but when I hold a woman in my arms I expect to feel curves.
Marilyn was a size 14.
B'shalom,
Jeff
Having a good rant about the whole thing really helps clear out all the anger that sometimes drives me. I really wish there was a way that there could be some *organized* effort to get Saint Oprah to see that she's projecting her problems onto a whole bunch of people who don't deserve the negative judgement.
Hi Jeff...
Over the years I've noticed that real men like when a woman's got "womanly attributes"...that a woman looking like a teen-ager isn't a normal thing. Yet I think that, like women, there are guys who are chasing an ideal. They're as influenced by the advertising to look for certain kinds of women as much as women are propelled to emulate advertising.
And I know if it was my weight was causing serious health problems, I'd be concerned (like Denise pointed out, too). Thing is, other than my thyroid condition, I'm very, very healthy. It's why the dr.'s never told me to go on a diet even though I'm not the "ideal weight" for my height--according to the insurance charts. Her philosohpy is don't mess with a system if it's working optimally.
For the most part, I'm optimal
:-)
T.
Saint Oprah has so many issues with herself that she can't see what she's doing to the rest of the world. Do not get me started on Oprah!
Our culture is awfully f**** up. I was thinking about your posting when I was posting on WUKY censoring the word "breasts" (on the other side of the spectrum from the mania for artificial "globes"). And I'm not too sure there isn't a cultural connection.
idyll...I think there def. is a cultural connection. We prefer women in our ads who don't have breasts. Like they're a very bad thing. They can't be totally covered up. So, we can expunge them from women's bodies thru dieting, and then can make the word "breasts" a bad word --the 8th one you can't say on TV (or radio)....truly f'ed up.
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