So, I promised yesterday to write about our new puppy. I realize I’m posting this later than usual, but you know, new puppy means less sleep means longer time waking up, okay? Don’t judge.

Anyway, his name is Tyrannosaurus Rex Tesla Ferrel. Because we do this thing where we name our pets with physicists’ names…also, the names are ridiculously long. (I know, I know, Tesla probably doesn’t actually count as a physicist, but whatever. Tesla was AWESOME.) My sister’s cat, Toes, is actually Warren “The Toes” Johann Oppenheimer. (He’s a polydactyl cat which is where the “Toes” part comes in. Hee.)

We picked Oppenheimer for Toes because he's all about blowing shit up like a nuclear bomb.

When she was little, we were totally uncertain where she was at any given moment.

I mean, you can see WHY; right?

So, of course, when we got our puppy, he had to have a name befitting a dog of his stature. We were thinking Rex or Max, and Tricia liked Rex better. So, we went with Rex. Tyrannosaurus Rex Tesla, as a matter of fact. Oh sure, he looks all small and cute, but don’t be fooled. He is a mighty beast always on the prowl for big game.

Srsly, don't make him hurt you.

Even big game hunters must nap, you know.

Those leaves know to mind their manners, or they're gonna know what's what.

He’s exactly what I wanted when I thought about getting a dog, so really? That whole shelter ordeal was for the best. We couldn’t be happier with him. Well, we could be if we could fast forward this whole housetraining thing, but we’ll get there. Eventually. I probably won’t notice because I’ll just be happy to be sleeping again.

So, a few weeks ago, I decided I wanted a dog. Not that Butch isn’t adorable because OMG, HE IS.

AMIRITE?

Since I’ve been told for ages that adopting/rescuing is better than buying, I went to PetFinder.com and started looking. Last week, I found a likely candidate. She was a three year old Bichon mix, and she was pretty doggone cute. (Hee. I crack myself up.) She was also known to be good with kids, housebroken, etc. I mean, just the perfect little dog for us really.

So, I started the process of trying to adopt this dog. I filled out the application. We went down to the city to meet the dog (and her current foster mom). We made arrangements to pick her up. MY KIDS GOT ALL EXCITED ABOUT THIS DOG, PEOPLE! WE HAD THIS DOG IN THE BAG! WE WERE GETTING THE PERFECT DOG FOR OUR FAMILY!

Until Wednesday. When the shelter called to let me know that my vet’s office said Trixie’s shots were out of date. The conversation went like this:

Me: THE HELL YOU SAY! That cat had a three year rabies vax!
Lady: No, she didn’t. It was a one year, and it was due almost a year ago…back in July actually.
Me: OMG. I AM THE WORST PET OWNER EVER. IN THE HISTORY OF PET OWNERS. I have no excuse for this. OMG. I am so sorry –
Lady: Also, your vet says she’s never been spayed.
Me: Ohhhhhhh, she wasn’t spayed here. She was spayed in Jeff City. That’s Dr. C’s office. I gave you that number, too.
Lady: Oh. Well. Yes. Welllllll, we’re just not sure about giving you a dog really because you know, if you can’t keep up with your cat’s once a year vaccines, we’re not sure you’ll keep up with the dog’s flea and heartworm prevention…
Me: Oh. Well, again, I’m so sorry. I really, really thought Trixie had a three year vax, and if we got reminder cards, I’m sure they got lost in the mail, since we moved to Jeff City and moved back, it’s been kind of hard to get the Post Office straight on where we actually live these days.
Lady: Well. I’ll let you know later today.

I called as soon as I got off the phone with the lady from the shelter, I called and made an appointment for Trixie to get her shots. Then, I got kind of pissed. The more I thought about the woman and her tone, the more offended I got actually. So, first, six months is not “almost a year ago.” It’s SIX MONTHS. Which isn’t an excuse, but still. Second, I’m the first person ever to think their cat got a three year and didn’t? That will be news to Bill since his response when I told him I was taking Trixie in for her shots was, “Didn’t she get a three year?” Third, lady, lemme ask you – do you remember a yearly chore better than a monthly chore? I sure don’t. Also, I THOUGHT IT WAS A THREE YEAR SHOT, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. WHY WOULD I CHECK THAT SHIT TWO YEARS EARLY?

Ahem. Sorry, so I waited Wednesday for her to call back. Nothing. The more I thought about it, the more pissed I got and the less I even wanted the damn dog anyway. Plus, I started remembering the weird vibes the dog’s foster mom had given me during our visit. She had been extremely territorial about the dog, and she’d mentioned that she had Annie sleeping in her bed with her. Then, I started remembering other things that had been said, like how this lady had eight other dogs in the house plus an assortment of cats.

I started to suspect that any excuse was going to be used to keep us from getting the dog. I started searching PetFinder.com for other pets as I did not have a good feeling about the situation. I just knew we were going to get a “no.” But I held onto hope and waited. Thursday comes, and still no phone call. Now I’m good and mad. Okay, we’re not good enough for your dog. Fine. But have the balls to call and say so. But no.

I finally call them on Friday (two days after she said she’d “let me know”)to find out what’s up because I’d tripped across another dog I thought might work out better for us. The way their stuff is set up, though, you can only leave a voicemail and wait. After a couple of hours, I get a return phone call from Lady. She said to me, “Yeaaaaahhhhh, we’re going to have to pass on this…” I said, “Okay, great! Thanks!” as I hadn’t been looking forward to telling her, “Uhhh…we found another dog…” So, yay! Everyone’s happy.

Except wait. Did you really tell me you’re going to have to “take a pass” on my family? My loving family who has not just one but TWO excellent vet references? (Because both our vet here and our vet in Jeff City said they’d be thrilled to recommend us as adoptive parents.) My loving family who has a total of four other animals in the home, three of which don’t actually belong to the Ferrel part of the household? You’re saying that this dog is better off in a foster home with eight other dogs and who knows how many cats?

No. No, you are not going to say that to me and get away with it. Also, you don’t get to be a snotty bitch, either. So I called Lady back. (Her cell phone was on our Caller ID. BOOM, SON.) I was very polite but assertive in expressing how I felt about the whole process and her tone. She then gets EXTRA snotty, and I point out how condescending she’s being in that moment. She says to me, “Well, yeah, I’m being condescending. I’m PISSED OFF. I have been nothing but polite to you. I’ve introduced myself by name and affiliation with the shelter every time I’ve called!” Wait…what?

You’re seriously telling me that as long as I say “Hey, this is Stephanie Peterson-Ferrel from QuirkyDiva Enterprises” first, I can just be a condescending dickhole thereafter and no one can call me on it? THIS IS GOOD TO KNOW. LOOK OUT, WORLD. I HAVE SOME CALLS TO MAKE! Of course, I didn’t say this to her. What I did say to her was that I’d felt extremely judged throughout most of our interactions, so I was pretty okay with their decision.

At which point, she hung up on me, mid-sentence. MID. SENTENCE. Since I cannot let a sleeping dog lie, I called back and left her a very polite voicemail finishing what I’d been saying. I also wished her a nice day. I have witnesses who will attest to the fact that I didn’t act a fool even once during any of that bullshit. I feel like I deserve a medal for keeping GhettoSteph leashed up. Instead, I got a puppy…a little Yorkie/Maltese mix, a Morkie, if you will.

Tyrannosaurus Rex Tesla Peterson-Ferrel

P.S. During our Friday phone call, she told me their reason for turning us down was that our vet hadn’t been forthcoming enough for them. I guess because Dr. R didn’t tell them Dr. C had spayed Trix, he was one secretive bastard. @@ IMO, we got turned down because the foster mom is an animal hoarder. Possibly, they didn’t like the fact that we have a kid under five. Maybe they just didn’t like how I look. Who the fuck knows? It doesn’t matter. We got the dog for us in the end.

This post is going to be all over the place probably. I have so much stuff I want to say, and I’m going all old skool Steph and just puking it all up for your perusal. Wait…that makes it sound kind of gross and not awesome to see, and I’m hoping it will actually be epic, so…oh hell. Let me just get started.

So, I realized I really want to help people love themselves. It’s a priority for me and not just online, either. Admittedly, the Internet is my primary forum for this stuff, but I feel like if I don’t implement this stuff in “real” life, I’m just paying lip service to my own goal. So today, I had to take Trixie to the vet for her vaccinations. I had to stop and get gas, and I made sure to compliment the cashier on her glasses. (If it hadn’t been her glasses, it would have been something else. The point was to make her day a little better. The point was for her to have one moment when she wasn’t kicking her own ass. (Hell, maybe she never kicks her own ass. Maybe she’s SUPER CONFIDENT. Even so, I didn’t hurt anything by being nice.)

Now I’m not saying OMG I CHANGED HER LIFE. I didn’t. It was one compliment on one day. I’ve got perspective here. However, I think I might slowly be changing my own life by doing this type of thing. Not that it’s all about me here; it’s not, but let’s be honest – it helps me to know that I’m getting a benefit here, too. Random acts of kindness just feel good, if you ask me. Better than that, they take me out of myself. They force me to look around and see how I can make things better for others.

Oddly, the more I feel like I’m helping others, the easier it gets to ignore my own bullshit. If I’m busy finding ways to help someone else, it’s pretty hard to focus on all the stuff I think is wrong with me. Am I making any sense here? What I’m trying so hard to say is, for me, making a decision to focus on helping others has helped me more than I ever believed possible. Also, I finally feel like I have a purpose.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying that being a mom isn’t a purpose. I’m not saying being a wife or a friend or a daughter isn’t a purpose. What I am saying is those things have always been things I knew were merely a part of my overall purpose, the reason I was created, if you will. I think I’m in a fairly good position to help others find self-acceptance and self-love.

My own journey (which is still ongoing) has been bumpy as hell and maybe I can help others find an easier path. If nothing else, I can be a role model to my own children about how genuine love and respect for yourself can help you genuinely love and respect others. If I can teach one person to look in a mirror and say, “DAMN, I AM AWESOME” even when the world is telling him/her “No, you’re not,” I want to do that. I’m going to do that.

Look out, world, I’m here to love the shit out of you.

So, since I climbed on board the fat acceptance train, I’ve started noticing how very little fat acceptance there actually is in the world. Some of the nicest people I know are beating their own asses for being overweight. These same people tell me on a semi-regular basis how beautiful I am. I think they legitimately mean both things. They really, truly believe that their fat is ugly and gross while simultaneously believing that my fat has no impact on me being one hot mama.

Why do I think this is true? Well, because I did it myself for so very long. Everyone else was beautiful, gorgeous, amazing, etc, no matter what size or shape they were, but me? I was hideously disfigured because I carried a few a lot of extra pounds. So I get this type of thinking. No, seriously, I do. What I’m wondering now is why it takes so many of us so long to get comfortable in our own skins. Well, no, I actually don’t wonder that. I have a few theories, but I’m trying to make a point here.

What is it going to take to convince you that you are completely amazing and beautiful right now, today? What do you need to hear so that you can really, truly believe that? (Obviously, I don’t expect an answer here – I want you to answer that for yourself.) For me, it’s just been a matter of tuning out the negative bullshit (which leads lots of haters to suppose I am “in denial” about…well, everything really). Included in that are healthcare professionals who aren’t open to the idea that my weight isn’t the only marker for good or poor health. (I could go off on a tangent here about how weight isn’t a marker for good or poor health at all, but I’m trying to stay focused.)

Sadly, I had to fire another doctor yesterday. I’m not going to get into it about her response to HAES because I know not everyone agrees that HAES is a good thing. (Which is another rant all on its own.) I am going to mention that she said to me, “Well, you have good insurance; you could probably have the surgery.” (“The surgery” is, of course, a gastric bypass. That’s the only surgery that matters when you’re dealing with a fat person, apparently.) She then went on to tell me that I’m an “excellent” candidate for the surgery since my overall health is so good. All this coming after she complimented me on how much my blood pressure and cholesterol had improved since my first visit several months ago. (Weight hasn’t changed at all, FTR, but habits have. Gee, maybe HAES isn’t bullshit excuses, but I’ll shut up now.)

Uh, are you listening to yourself talk, lady? Are you hearing the words you’re saying? You just recommended an extremely risky surgery to someone you just said was in “good” overall health. Now, maybe it’s just me, but that seems kind of stupid. “Hey, why don’t you risk your life (because let’s be real – death is a risk here, either during the actual surgery or from complications afterward…please, let’s not get started on the folks who’ve died from malnutrition, during later corrective procedures, etc.) or at least your health (see previous parenthetical) for no reason other than to get a lower number on a scale? I mean, I know that your mobility isn’t impaired. I know your overall health is good, but you know, that number…well, that’s the most important thing ever.”

My response to her was, basically, that she smokes the crack cocaine for recommending a surgery that cannot be reversed should the outcome prove horrifying (as it is very likely to do). She told me everything has risks, and I told her that unlike medications or lifestyle changes, I can’t just stop having the surgery once it’s done. I mean, duh. I think she realized she’d put her foot in her mouth with me, so she shut it, but for me, the damage was done. I won’t see her again, and it’s not just because she’s not on board with things in which I believe.

It’s because it is ridiculous and stupid to recommend a surgery for something which doesn’t impair the person’s life in any way and for which no other medical interventions have been tried. (Not that I’m interested in weight loss pills, but I’m making a point.) Her first resort was to encourage me to have a surgery which has a shitty outcome for most people, including the fact that it doesn’t work. For what reason? A number on a scale. Not because my weight is hampering me or endangering my health, but solely because of a number on a scale. That. Is. Crazy. And my friends, I’m saying no to that kind of bullshit.

Last week, some stuff happened on my Facebook that had me pissed at first, but the more I think about it, the more I become disheartened. Let’s get something out of the way first, though, then I can move on to more things.

If someone says to you, “I’m done discussing this topic with you,” that is NOT an invitation to continue the conversation. That is ignoring a clearly stated boundary, and it is incredibly selfish and rude. Further contact just shows that you really, truly don’t give a shit about the other person, as much as you think it’s SUPER IMPORTANT for them to hear what you’re saying, even though they’ve said, “All done now.”

That is so ridiculously not cool, I don’t have words. You don’t agree with me? Great, fine, awesome. But once you say, “You know what? I’m all done talking about this,” I’m walking away. If you can’t or won’t have the same respect for me, I’ll cut you out of my life. I don’t have to accept people who can’t or won’t respect my boundaries in my life.

Moving on, I’ve learned that my decision to be very vocal about HAES and fat acceptance makes certain people extremely defensive. People I assumed were open minded and capable of reading research that contradicts the current conventional wisdom about fat are turning out to be…well, fat haters/fat shamers. Oh, most of the time, they disguise themselves as concern trolls, but if you ask me, that’s just saying you hate fat people for their own good, despite the mad amounts of evidence that obesity isn’t actually harmful.*

In fact, my mother and I have agreed to disagree about this particular topic. That’s fine by me. She chooses to believe one thing; I choose to believe another. It’s really no big deal to me, despite my passionately advocating for fat acceptance and HAES. My mother is a grown woman capable of reading the same stuff I read and coming to her own conclusions. She accepts the same of me. We disagree, and that’s where it is. She doesn’t push because she’s pretty okay with accepting boundaries. (Well, she’s still my mother, but she’s really pretty good about this. Now if only I could get her to leave me alone about my hair color…)

At any rate, I’m not sure why people get so damn defensive about fat acceptance. What’s most weird to me is that the people who get most pissed off about it are not thin people or fat people – they’re the folks who are in the middle, the broads who have been trying to lose “the last 5/10/20 lbs.” for…well, in some cases, for years. I’d have guessed that those folks would be the ones glad to hear the message about HAES. I’d have guessed those people would be fucking relieved to get out of the endless struggle against their own bodies, but no.

They are the most vehement and, I must say it, the most nasty about how long-term weight loss is just a matter of doing it. They are the ones who ignore the research that indicates long-term weight loss is a fucking dream. They are the ones who tell me that it doesn’t matter if I’m not losing weight on a thousand calorie diet; I just need to “shake it up” or “try harder.” It’s almost like I’m trying to take something away from them by accepting my own body and working toward healthier habits rather than weight loss.

It’s almost like they find it personally offensive for a fat woman to say, “Yeah, do what you want to do, but me? I’ll be over here eating good stuff and moving my ass…oh, and being FUCKING FABULOUS in my big ol’ body.” I just don’t get it. I don’t get the need to make me feel like my self-acceptance is really that I’m failing or “giving up.” What, exactly, is someone else’s problem with me saying “FUCK YOU” to kicking my own ass over something I’m not likely to change in the long-term?

Last but not least, I’d like to know why anyone believes shame and anger and guilt will cause a change for the better. Hating me for my own good, even when you guise it as “concern” for my health (and ignore my repeated comments that my health is actually fine, thanks), is still hating me. So quit trying to pretty it up, how about it? Just openly be pissed off that my big, fat, luscious ass doesn’t give a tin shit what you think of it and be done, okay? It’s much more honest and easier to handle. Plus, that’s something I can understand and with which I can deal. This weird shit where you refuse to acknowledge legitimate research and my own experience just confuses me and pisses me off.

*All of those links are taken from this blog to which the author no longer posts. However, it is well worth a look.

So, I’m on Pinterest. That sentence doesn’t feel right; it doesn’t feel adequate. Y’all. I am ON PINTEREST. Like “checking that shit like it’s my job” on Pinterest. Like “receiving a piece of crack rock every time I look at Pinterest so I look at Pinterest pretty much all day long” on Pinterest. While I completely love Pinterest, there is something I utterly and completely loathe constantly being pinned, and I can’t seem to avoid it because…well…because women have been trained that their bodies are the enemy if those bodies don’t fit some arbitrary standard of beauty. (I could go off about that for a second, but I am focusing here.)

Thinspo. Goddamn, I cannot tell you people how much I hate thinspo. It’s not about me hating people who want to lose weight/get fit/whatever. That’s your body – do with it what you like. If you want to ignore the statistics about dieting, g’head. Body policing isn’t my job. (It’s no one’s job, just for the record.) However, would you, for the love of God and all that is holy, stop posting things designed to “inspire” you through shame and guilt?

Example: This pin. (I’m not picking on Lindsey, either. Hers just happened to be the one I found first. This pin is ALL OVER my Pinterest.) So, what part of this is helpful or loving or even motivational? Every time you eat, you get to feel like shit about yourself. So, you’ll eat less? Is that the idea? Here’s an idea – how about just fucking eating when you’re hungry and stopping when you’re not? How about ditching the shame and guilt in favor of finding some trust in your body and its cues?

When did we decide that we are simultaneously COMPLETELY OUT OF CONTROL about food and TOTALLY ABLE TO STARVE OURSELVES THROUGH WILLPOWER ALONE? Like how does this make sense at all? Ever? We have a biological imperative to survive; food is crucial to our survival. And our bodies are damn good at their jobs, most of the time. Barring cases of eating disorders (which I won’t speak to as I’m not an expert), the more we refrain from doing something we NEED to do (like eat), the stronger the drive becomes to do that thing (like eating).

If you really, truly believe that letting yourself just. fucking. eat. is going to lead you down some path to OMG OBESITY (which…I could rant about that for a moment, but I’m still trying to stay focused here), stop for a second and ask yourself when you’ve been genuinely out of control with food. Has it been after some period of ignoring your hunger? Has it been after some period of telling your body “GODDAMMIT, IT DOES NOT NEED THOSE CALORIES!”? Really stop and think about this, if you would. So, has your body really betrayed you into some out of control, Godzilla-eating-Tokyo rampage, or is it just trying to keep your ass alive and well?

I’m not judging here. Believe you me, this is something with which I struggle every single day, this idea that I am all at once not to be trusted around any food ever yet completely able to ignore hunger through sheer willpower. One of the things I’ve done to overcome that is to simply eat when I’m hungry and stop when I’m not. Was this process overnight? Oh God, no. Years of ignoring my hunger/satiety cues has led to a pretty horrific relationship with my body when it comes to food. I’m still re-learning how to listen to my own body. But I’m telling y’all right now – I’ve let go of this idea that eating is shameful and wrong. Food is no longer my enemy; it’s simply another of life’s pleasures to be enjoyed. That’s a whole lot more awesome than kicking my own ass over the occasional Oreo.

And I guess that’s what gets me so fired up about thinspo – all of you are beautiful. Right now, today, you are beautiful. Fat, skinny, somewhere in between, I don’t care. You’re gorgeous and fabulous and wonderful. I want you to stop kicking your own asses because you dare to be a human being with physical needs. I want you to talk to yourself the way you’d talk to your best friend*. I want you to love you as much as I love you.

Thinspo doesn’t create that, in my never, ever humble opinion. Thinspo doesn’t teach us to love ourselves and trust our bodies. It teaches us that if we don’t look like XYZ or we don’t do ABC, we’re not valuable, worthwhile human beings. And that? That just pisses me right off. So please, just stop, okay?

P.S. I’m aware that someone, somewhere is going to say I’m posting this because I’m fat. That’s cool. That’s not why I’m posting this, but I’m okay with people who think that’s why. If you’d prefer to believe I’m posting this to thwart dieters than because I genuinely care about other people and don’t want them hurting themselves, that says a lot more about you than me, doesn’t it?
P.P.S. I could stop following the folks who pin this stuff (or the boards where they pin it), but I’d rather not ignore it when someone I dig is hurting themselves. I’m weird that way.
P.P.P.S. I didn’t come to these realizations on my own. This site has been a Godsend. This post is probably a million times better at explaining why thinspo is bad than anything I could ever write. I also read this book and cannot recommend it enough.

*If you would legit put “Walk away FATTY” on your best friend’s fridge…well, I got nothin’ for you. Probably you and I shouldn’t talk. Ever.

So, my sister’s birthday is just over a month away. She digs octopi. I dig making things. It seems natural that these things would be combined in some way; right? Right. So I made a couple of things for her birthday.

How cute is this guy?

This one actually has eight legs! And a jaunty sailor cap.

I feel so accomplished having these done well in advance. It’s a nice change of pace to not be staying up all night to get the last few rows done in time. Heh. Hopefully, I’ll finish her cross stitch well in advance, too, although that one is a little more stressful. I’m not the world’s quickest with that stuff. We’ll see.

ANYWAY, are you on Pinterest? If you’re not, OMG. E-mail me so I can invite you because YOU SHOULD BE ON THE PINTEREST. Sorry. I got a little excited there. Back to my point. Pinterest has some of the greatest ideas ever. (I could describe more, but really – just go look. You won’t be sorry.) One of them was this reusable calendar idea. Since I had neither vintage postcards nor a cute little fruit box, I ventured off on my own.

I used 3×5 cards, Post-It tabs and a 3×5 card box for ours. I had the girls decorate the cards for each month, and I love it. I keep thinking about how this calendar will just get better and better every year, and it makes me the slightest bit giddy. Plus, I think the girls will love it when they’re grown – being able to look back and say, “Oh! Yeah! I remember that day!” I don’t know, maybe I’m just a sentimental dork. Whatever. Anyway, the finished project is up at the top of this post.

So, there’s what I’ve been up to lately. If you have questions about any of this stuff (like where to get patterns, materials, etc), feel free to drop me a line at steph[at]quirkyblogger[dot]com or comment on Facebook or tweet me about it.

So, I know, I know. I’m a slacker. Real life has interfered. Whatever. One of my resolutions, though, is to blog more. Mostly because I’m doing so much crafty stuff these days, I want to show off. Yes, I said it. I’ve made a lot of awesome stuff, and I think people should see it. Not that I’m going to switch completely to a crafting blog, but I have to tell y’all – that’s going to be the primary focus here.

I’m just not as comfortable sharing my life anymore. Part of it is that my kids have reached an age that I think is…crap, I don’t know how to articulate this precisely. Okay, I guess I worry that their friends could traipse across this sucker and read things that my kids wouldn’t want them to read. So, sharing about my kids is out. They haven’t asked me to do that; it’s just my own comfort level, I guess.

So, if I’m not sharing about my kids (who are a GIANT part of my life, obviously), that doesn’t leave a whole lot for me to discuss. I won’t discuss my marriage anymore (Anonymous, you’re an asshole)…what’s left? The awesome shit I make, that’s what. So, that’s what you’re gonna get. And probably some body acceptance stuff occasionally. Maybe some stuff about HAES if I’m feeling it that day.

I guess what I’m saying here is that I’m posting about whatever I want. I hope you stick around.

P.S. If you miss commenting, please know you can comment via Facebook, Twitter or e-mail (steph[at]quirkyblogger[dot]com).

So, on Friday, I wrote this on Facebook:

Here’s the thing – if you want to diet and exercise and hate your body, fine. Whatever. You’re grown. My issue is when you want ME to hate my body or my daughters to hate theirs. Fat, thin, somewhere in-between, I’ve been all those things, and size has yet to affect my value as a human being. Skinny or fat or somewhere in-between, I’m still a goddamn rock star. (And so are you, regardless of what your scale says.) Word to ya mutha.

Now, I don’t know about you, but when I write a Facebook status in the heat of the moment, I leave things out. I say things less clearly than I could have. So, I want to clarify the above – I have no issue with diet or exercise, per se. My own approach is to eat what I want, when I want and however much I want. I listen to my body about how foods make me feel physically. I follow my own hunger/satiety cues. With exercise, I move my body in ways I enjoy and ways that feel good to me. Period. Your approach might be different, and that’s cool.

It’s cool right up until I see you body policing or shaming others, even if you don’t realize that’s what you’re doing. But think it over – every time you pin some bullshit “thinspo” on Pinterest, you are telling the people who follow you, “Yup, I believe size matters. I believe girth determines worth. I don’t think I’m good enough because my scale gives me a number that other people have told me is too high, etc, etc, etc.” And my friend, I’m done buying that particular pile of crap. I’m also done with people who think body policing and fat shaming are good ideas, even when they’re only doing it to themselves (and I’ve yet to meet a motherfucker who confines that shit to their own bodies only, but I’ll give the benefit of the doubt here).

I’ve spent too long as the rhino on that picture up there. I’ve spent too many years wanting a different body and different hair and a DIFFERENT ME ALTOGETHER, OMG WHY DO I SUCK SO MUCHHHHH? I HAVE TO TRY HARDER!! I don’t want to spend any more time doing that. Instead, I’d like to eat the things I like that make me feel delightful. (Gluten is still my enemy, FTR, but it’s not because I view it as “bad” or “good.” My body simply doesn’t respond well to gluten. I’m listening to my body when it says, “Hey, this stuff? Makes me sick. Really!”)

I want to run because I feel like running. I want to run because running makes me feel good. Not because I’m looking at some thin broad on a magazine and wishing to look like her. I want to dance because I love to dance, and it makes me feel awesome. (Even if I look horrible while doing it.) I want to move my body to feel fabulous, not because I want to look like someone else.

What’s more important – I want my GIRLS to do these things. I want them to eat things that make them feel good. I want them to treat food as the absolute pleasure it should be while also nourishing themselves. I want them to understand that food doesn’t address anything but hunger and that exercise is designed to make you feel great, not to make you look a certain way. I also want the world at large to understand these things.

Further, I’d like the world at large to acknowledge that weight means jackshit. All you can tell about a fat person is they’re fat. You don’t know if they exercise or eat right or anything else. All you know is they’re fat. So stop the judging, okay? Plus, we live in a country where the majority of folks are overweight. So…like…really, Americans? REALLY? But I digress.

TL;DR – stop hating your body, and start listening to it. Girth says nothing about worth. Etc, etc, etc. Just love yourself, ‘k? ‘K. Oh, and SAY NO TO THINSPO. Please.

So, I promised I would post some anecdotes about bad experiences with doctors. I’m going to do just that, but let me say upfront – this will be geared mostly toward the fat folks in the crowd. I’m not saying thin people can’t have bad experiences at the doctor’s office. I’m sure they can and do. However, I don’t have anecdotes from thin friends who were mistreated solely because of their size. I wish I could say this wasn’t true for fat people. Unfortunately, I can’t.

Anyway, I have a billion stories about doctors deciding that if I just lost a little weight, all my problems would go away. Never mind that I have a couple of conditions which CAUSE weight gain. Conditions that I, in fact, diagnosed for myself and only asked the doctors in question to confirm. If you’re fat, well, lose weight. It will all magically clear up. But I’m only going to share a couple of stories because I think they illustrate perfectly what’s wrong with the medical establishment today.

First, when we lived in Houston, I had to find a new doctor. This is never a fun thing for me. After years of dealing with doctors who were convinced I was lying about my diet and exercise habits, meeting new doctors who are likely to provide more of the same stresses me out. But I have a condition which requires prescription medication to treat, so go I must.

I walked into this doctor’s office and explained that despite the fact I was on medication for my thyroid, I was still experiencing many symptoms of hypothryoidism. I was still losing hair, feeling like crap, suffering extreme joint pain, etc, etc, etc. This doctor’s response? “Well, I know it hurts when you walk, but you need to do it anyway.” Do what? Did you really just tell me that even though a particular activity causes me a great deal of pain during the activity and extreme exhaustion afterward, I should do it anyway?

I went off, y’all. I. WENT. OFF. Because I knew if I weren’t overweight, she would never, ever have said some ridiculous shit like that. She would have offered some alternatives for exercise that would let me get the activity I needed without causing pain. (Like how about swimming? Or strength training? What about an elliptical which is no impact exercise?) Because after all, if I were thin, I wouldn’t really NEED the exercise, so it would just be about retaining joint mobility. But since I’m fat, well, I should suck up the excruciating joint pain as that isn’t as important as losing weight. God, I’m pissed all over again.

ANYWAY.

A friend of mine had taken up jogging as part of an effort to lose weight. She hurt her foot pretty badly, so of course, she went to the doctor. The doctor told her it was no big deal and to keep on jogging. So my friend did this, and her foot kept getting worse and worse. The doctor told her it was fine, so my friend sought a second opinion. The second doctor, the one who wasn’t bigoted, told her that continuing to jog on that foot had only exacerbated the problem. He told her to stay off it until it was healed. And maybe the first doctor wasn’t a bigot, but I honestly don’t think she’d have said that to a thin person who was in pain. Because in our culture, weight loss is first and foremost. It’s the holy grail of health. If you just lose weight, everything will be okay.

Don’t believe me? Well, I’ll tell you what happened at my last doctor’s appointment. I went in having lost about 30 pounds. He was understandably pleased by this. I told him I’d like to quit smoking, so I wanted to talk to him about alternatives. He looked at me and said, “You understand that quitting smoking will slow down your metabolism to the point that you can gain about 20 lbs per year; right? You have a plan for dealing with that?” I’m not lying, y’all. Whitey can verify that this is EXACTLY what was said.

My last anecdote is about a friend who went in to have a mole removed. Her regular doctor was out of the office, so another physician (one she didn’t know) stepped in to do the procedure. He then proceeded to berate her about both her weight and smoking. He told her, “You’re a college graduate. You should have more sense than this.” She went in for a fucking MOLE REMOVAL, y’all.

Don’t get me wrong – I understand that doctors have to discuss this stuff with their patients. I get that there are going to be things that patients don’t necessarily want to hear. However, giving someone shitty advice solely because losing weight is the primary focus isn’t good medicine. I’m going to assume that most of you have read the literature about the effects of yo-yo dieting on both health and long-term weight management. Focusing on weight loss and the perceived problems accompanying it rather than on ACTUAL problems a patient has is just shitty, if you ask me.

Also, we’ve learned that shame and blame aren’t effective tools in raising healthy, productive, happy children. Why are we still using shame and blame when we deal with health issues? Why do we think that something that absolutely does NOT work in kids is going to be magically AWESOME for adults? Really? Are we really this stupid?

So, probably you’re wondering what the outcome was with the above situations. Well, with my two friends, they’ve chosen other doctors. With myself, I’ve chosen to speak up and speak out about this kind of thing. I give doctors a chance to get educated and get over their preconceptions about obesity. If they don’t get on board, they get gone. I don’t have time or patience for haters, no matter what letters are behind their names. (Are you sensing a theme here? Heh.)