My Earlobes Still Feel Fat

Things have been crazy lately.   I’ve finished my MA, started looking for a full-time job, and gotten an agent and a book deal, all in quick succession.   It’s all happening really fast, and it’s almost all good news; as my friend pointed out on Facebook when I announced that I had a publisher, I’m finally profiting from my all-consuming neuroses.   They’ve always been the source of my self-deprecating humor, these nerves of mine, but they were never much good for anything else until now.   Suddenly, I have an audience for my particular brand of crazy, and everyone around me seems to be thrilled on my behalf.   I should be thrilled too, and I am , I keep insisting… well, my logical brain is thrilled. The thing is, in my heart I’m terrified.   Publishing a book about my body anxiety publicizes it, and while I’ve always been one for publicizing my issues on a conversational level, I’ve never really had to deal with a large audience before.   Even this blog only has a few cher

I have something to confess: I haven't worked out in a while.   And by a while, I mean at least a couple of months.  And by worked out, I mean anything besides walking around at a leisurely pace (that includes super low-key yoga/pilates). Amazingly, I'm smaller/lighter right now than I was back in the spring, when I was much better about exercising (well, I say it's surprising, but I guess it's been the case 90% of the last ten years, so I don't know why I continue to be surprised), but nonetheless I've been feeling sluggish and soft lately, and last week I decided to get back on the horse. A friend of mine on facebook has been doing a Jillian Michaels* workout, and she's been posting a lot about how exhausted it makes her and how much it hurts – my kind of workout, when I really want to get stuck in.  I messaged her and we chatted back and forth about the video, and based on her review ("it kills, but it's only half an hour and it isn't bo

Weight loss surgery is controversial.  This isn't news.  But what you may not realize is that it's not just controversial among thin or 'normal' people, but in the fat community as well. Whenever I visit any sort of 'fat acceptance' website, I'm always startled by the attitude toward GB and surgeries like it (WLS, in short form).  Today, I came across this interesting article on being a 'Smaller Fat' – the strange limbo that those of us who are BMI-defined as obese but who look 'normal' enough to pass – and I was all set to write a post about the main article.  But then I read the comments. One commenter talked about the strong support system she had at her workplace in the medical profession, where people understand that BMI isn't everything and fat people should be understood instead of tormented.  Lovely, right?  But then, in a parenthetical aside, she mentions that one of her supporters is a doctor who "had to autopsy a bunc

I've always said that being fat is harder on women than it is on men.  Not only is there a lot more societal pressure to be stick thin rather than just healthy, which men don't seem to get, but it's a lot harder to be seen as physically attractive if you're even ten or fifteen pounds overweight. Anyway, it seems I'm not the only one thinking these things.  There's an article in the NYTimes today about overweight and obese women doing worse than men financially, an interesting angle on the effects of obesity, and in it they say: Why doesn’t body size affect men’s attainment as much as women’s? One explanation is that overweight girls are more stigmatized and isolated in high school compared with overweight boys. Other studies have shown that body size is one of the primary ways Americans judge female — but not male — attractiveness. We also know that the social stigma associated with obesity is strongest during adolescence. So perhaps teachers and pee

I had a total meltdown last night.  Some of it was triggered by the usual stress (I just got back from a wonderful trip to SF, and I'm homesick and worried about catching up with work, and I had a massively important writing deadline yesterday), but mostly it was about the doctor's appointment I have tomorrow.  And the weigh-in that awaits me there. I know I've ranted about doctors before.  And I've told you about this one , specifically.  The short story is that if my BMI goes up one more point I'll be cut off from using Nuvaring, which is the only form of hormonal birth control I've ever tried that hasn't made me feel crazy and disinterested in sex.  So I booked this appointment last month, making sure to make it for a day when I was unlikely to be PMSing and likely to be writing at home instead of in the office.  But I didn't factor in the vacation beforehand; suffice it to say, my weight is not low enough that I feel totally confident strutting i

Okay, I don't really get the obsession with the dancing/skating/dogwalking with the stars franchise, but I do read gossip blogs and they like to talk about these reality/competition shows, so I've sort of been watching things unfold.  So I've been aware of Kirsty Alley's big comeback, and I've been secretly rooting for her– after the rags have been all over her for her weight these past few years, I figure she probably needs a confidence boost (although maybe I'm projecting).  At the same time, though, I've been sort of holding my breath, waiting for Youtube to explode with videos of her falling and her thighs jiggling in slo-mo and all that terrible stuff people love to make viral. But as my favorite snarkblogger, Michael K , has put it, Kirsty is dancing her Thetans off !  She's been shaking it way harder (and way better) than a lot of the skinny bitches out there, and in a weird, detached, uninterested-in-her-up-to-now kind of way, I'm so prou

I'm in the dressing room at Anthropologie, and so far I've tried a size 8 jacket (too big), a size 14 dress (too small), a size medium dress (fits, but not cute), a size 12 dress (a bit too big), another size 12 dress (way too small), a size 10 dress (perfect everywhere but a bit small in the boobs), and 2 more size 12 dresses (1 perfect and 1 a bit too big). Sigh... Sent from my erstwhile fancypants, now outdated iPhone 3G

Writing all these chapters about my life and my body is kind of intense.  Last week, I wrote about a panic attack I had over my body three years ago, and I could feel my pulse racing as I wrote it; re-living the experience actually made me have another mini-attack.  It's amazing how much I seem to have blocked from memory.  The smell of surgery recovery, the pain, both emotional and physical, that I've continuously put myself through in the fruitless pursuit of bodily normalcy... but I've forgotten good things as well. Today I was writing about my recovery from plastic surgery, specifically abdominoplasty and brachioplasty (arms).  And I was remembering the horrible, excruciating pulling at my stomach, and the fear that if I made one wrong move my belly would split open and all my insides would tumble out.  But I was also surprised to remember how happy I was after those surgeries, and how confident. The accompanying lipo made me retain so much water, I was beyond blo

Well, in fairness, this one was a nurse.  And she was pretty cool.  But the numbers were still assholes. A little background: I'm still in London, and not going home as often / uninsured in the States, so I decided it was well past time to try to get my birth control on the NHS.  So I went into the clinic affiliated with my Uni.  And of course they had to weigh/measure me.  And of course my BMI says I'm obese. Fuck off, BMI.  Obese??  Ok, I could lose a few stone, but if you're seriously telling me I have to lose 50 pounds to be within the range of 'normal,' you're off your rocker.  I'm a size 12, for god's sake!  I know it's not slender, but it's certainly not obese either! I'm so sick of being controlled by numbers.  Even the nurse, when I told her I'd had weight-loss surgery and had been leveling out within 10 pounds of my current weight for the past 9 years, said she thought the numbers were a bit silly as they don't take b