Contentment is a shield against the negativity of the world

I had a very leisurely day today. I stayed in bed, caught up on some reading, and got a call that a book I had ordered was in the bookstore. So, I went into town, had a late lunch of pancakes with banana and chocolate fudge sauce, picked up the book, and went to have coffee and a chat with my boss (who then loaded me up with salad and bread and coffee fig biscotti).

As I walked back to my car, feeling blissfully happy, and rather zen about life in general, I walked past a newsagent, which had all of the large tabloid magazine covers outside. More than half the headlines screamed “No Fail Weightloss in Just 4 Weeks!” or interviews with newly thin(er) Hollywood stars or how to learn to love eating nothing but celery and air!

I paused for a moment to consider the headlines. A year ago, I would have freaked out at this reminder that I was fat, inferior, and obviously living a life of shame and ill-health. Today, I fished one of my biscotti out of the bag, nibbled it thoughtfully, then decided that all the people in dieting deprivation may be societally acceptable, but they probably weren’t having as lovely an afternoon as I was having. I think this is what some people would call “Progress”.

Incidentally, the biscotti was delicious.

Is this supposed to be sarcastic?

Because not even the commenters think it’s funny.

A line in grey sand

I saw this post at Obesity Timebomb, and then The Rotund’s take on it, and decided to weigh in (excuse the pun), considering it’s something I’ve had floating in my head for awhile.

The stupid is in the comments!

I know that the Fatosphere has mixed feelings on Dan Savage (which he incidentally gives a shout out to in another letter in this column), but his advice to an 18-year old rape victim was (in my opinion) compassionate, understanding and to the point (I’m willing to give hm the benefit of the doubt as to his not telling her to ring the police and get that fucker charged… maybe he realises that she may not be emotionally able to go through the legal system at this stage)

Pity the same can’t be said about a small portion of his commenters. (Warning: Discussions of rape. May be triggering. Also contains large amounts of sexism and stupid)

Obligatory Tegan and Sara fangirl post

I went to see Tegan and Sara at the Enmore in Newtown on Thursday night. I don’t feel qualified enough to provide an unbiased review of the concert (I like them too much. I fear it will be a little gushy), so instead I’m going to fangirlishly tell people to check them out (while you’re there, check out T&S friends An Horse. They’re Australiaicious!), and what better way to do so than watch them cook together.

Beaver fever

Via Feministing:

I think it’s a testament to how little TV I watch that a American website picked this up before I, an Australian, ever saw it on the tube. Regardless, this little ad has gotten a few complaints, probably from people who are incensed that a vagina could ever be anything less than a source of shame and embarrasment. Or people who think that vagina = srs bizness.

I think the ad is kind of cute, if a bit annoying. It’s nice to see periods seen as a fact of nature, rather than a monthy manifestation of Original Sin. And also nice to see other vaginal slang thrown out beyond the ubiquitous “Pussy” (although “Tuna Town” always gets a giggle out of me).

Fuck You Karl Lagerfeld.

More proof that Karl Lagerfeld is an asshole:

Meanwhile fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld has publicly attacked the overweight recently. When asked about the use of size zero models in the fashion industry, a trend that’s been blamed for the increasing rates of eating disorders among young men and women, he said, “there are nearly 30% of young people who are too fat. So let’s take care of the zillions of the too fat before we talk about the percentage that’s left.”

No further comment needed.

lol, ur dum!!!111

There’s nothing funnier than people giving advice that they should probably take heed of themselves.

Naturally, the English of the people who frequent these types of groups is impeccable, as you can see by the example below:

“…lol, Kerry, although i believe people who come to Australia should speak English. the flaw in ur comment, although comical is,….”

Now, I realise that it can be incredibly frustrating for native speakers to deal with someone who isn’t terribly fluent, but maybe we could try some patience. The majority of people who belong to groups like these, I would wager, can only speak one language (Compulsory language study in school really doesn’t count), and therefore cannot have any perspective of how difficult it is to learn another language, especially to be at a fluency level that allows one to hold a conversation with a native speaker.

I’m trying to learn French, and I am very lucky to have several e-mail correspondants to practice with (who are blessedly patient with my attempts to mangle their language). I would like to imagine that if I were in a situation where I needed to survive on my French language skills, the fact that I am putting in an effort would count for something and that most people would be forgiving (a close friend who has travelled Europe has told me that this is generally the case). It’s a shame that I cannot say the same for what seems to be the majority of Australians.

Don’t play video games, they will only make you feel ugly.

Thanks to the tireless efforts of noble crusaders like Jack Thompson, we already knew that video games are mental masturbation (and everyone knows that pleasure is a sin), but that filthy, filthy fun-time will also make you feel inadequete and self-conscious, according to a study by a Kansas State University:

Richard Harris, (author of the research) said that his research shows that simply viewing the attractive game character for 15 minutes can negatively impact the player’s image of their own looks and body.

That should put a feather in the caps of anti-gaming lobbyists, although Harris does concede that his study did not take other factors that may contribute to poor self-image into account.

The professor was quick to point out that there might be other factors contributing to the lowered body image.

“I’m not saying that everyone with major body-image issues has them because of video games,” Harris said. “There may be other issues of concern with video games besides the well-known concern about violence.”

I’m not even going to bother getting onto the “violence in video games” arguement. It’s been made before, by far better and more eloquent writers than I, and suffice to say, most debates on this issue are preaching to their respective choirs anyway.

Personally, and in the experience of others (notably Penny Arcade), my body issues have more to do with everyday forces, such as the entitlement that a lot of people feel to point out the “flaws” in others around them. When I play Tomb Raider, for example, I barely notice Lara’s tiny waist and slim thighs (well, I noticed enough to make this comment, but that’s beside the point), and instead, my envy is at the fact that a fictional character has a fabulous lifestyle (travelling the world, exploring, having a kickass mansion and nifty gadgets) that I will never have, and I’m okay with that.

To continue the Tomb Raider point (it was one of the first games I got for Playstation as a kid), when I was younger, I wanted to be like Lara… not in terms of what she looked like, but what she could do. I have fond memories of my best friend and I, upon being told to get some fresh air and not stare at the telly all day, going outside and pretending to be Tomb Raiders, sneaking, leaping, and scaling walls and other objects.

I may be unique in my experience, but for me, video games characters, while often very attractive, are not real, and most can recognise them for the unreal blob of pixels that they are, and know that they will never be that. It’s not a failure to reach perfection, it’s simple recognition. The real damage is caused by our society’s narrow beauty standards that dictate that anyone who doesn’t conform is a candidate for ridicule or worse. In my opinion, anyway.

Nightmares and New Years

I had a nightmare last night. Most of the dream was about having to hide everything I ate, because everytime I tried to eat, someone would take the food away from me, or rebuke me, because “Fatties don’t get to eat”. It didn’t matter that I was hungry, and when I told people that I hadn’t eaten for three days, they told me that I wasn’t trying hard enough, and eventually the hunger pains would pass. It was a stark reminder that no matter how hard I try to practise what I preach (in this case, Size Acceptance), there’s probably always going to be the mocking voice in my head that tells me that I’m not allowed to enjoy food, because I’m the fat girl.

Which brings me to New Years, or specifically New Year’s Resolutions. I find it rather perverse that most people over-indulge on the 31st without guilt; after all, their new life starts the next day! On the first day of a new year, the slate is magically wiped, all sins are forgiven, and the conditions of this providence are to adhere to a rigidly Puritanical lifestyle (remember, nothing tastes as good as thin feels!).

Unlike other bloggers in the Fatosphere, I have made New Year’s Resolutions. I want to read more often, something I’ve neglected the last couple of years. I’d also like to write more, fiction and non-fiction, and commit to blogging on a regular basis. As for the almost obligatory “health and wellbeing” (most read: “weight loss”) resolutions?

I want to be rid of the inner critic, who tells me that I’m fat, ugly, and frumpy. I want to be kinder to myself, and treat myself the way I deserve to be treated; regardless of whether I weigh 50kg or 150kg.

Also, to start eating breakfast. That’d probably do me a world of good.