cirque du soleil

On advice of a friend, I looked into the CDS show coming to Boston this summer. Having never seen a live show, I thought maybe it was time. Imagine my quite pleasant surprise when, having been forwarded an email from said friend, I was greeted by this lovely ladybug. From the tidbits of CDS shows I have seen on television, all involved were slender, lithe, athletic bodies contorting to everyone's delight and amazement. This ladybug is fabulous! Not slender, and fabulous! Even if there's padding involved, it appears to be for the purpose of enhancing this character, not making fun of it.

We're going to see OVO in August.

huzzah, kate harding

There are so many links I could add here for Ms. Harding. Tonight, it's all about this one. (Oops. Somehow, two got in there.)


Photo by Becky Hill.

gah

I didn't know what I was going to blog about tonight. I just figured I would put up another peep-type entry because -- after getting home late from work after a mentally exhausting day -- I spent some time this evening hanging out with my husband, chatting with my nephew and an old school friend online, and planning to go to bed early. But then I started to watch this video, and I can't stop, and it's making me shake because it's frustrating as hell.

Props to Marianne Kirby and Crystal Renn for being eloquent and moderately patient in the face of MeMe Roth (no link because she's bat-crazy and should not have the national stage that she gets, so she's not getting any more exposure from my three readers). And Kim Benson, who I'd never heard of before now, and who started off being fairly innocuous in the glow of her recent successful weight loss, but who has grown increasingly MeMe-like as the conversation has progressed. (No link for her, either.)

I should have gone to bed an hour ago. And this video is still going. And I can't turn the damnable thing. OH! And I'm so glad I didn't because Marianne just stated something so beautifully, I feel compelled to quote her.

"I feel like we keep trying to re-frame it as a 'if we're concerned about health, why aren't we talking about actual indicators of health?' And the answer is, 'it's not really about health.'"

Huzzah! She goes on:

"We want to frame it as health because we're progressives and because we genuinely care about the health of people. But I don't believe that looking at a fat person and judging them immediately as unhealthy without knowing anything about their actual health, their lifestyle, (or) their choices... I don't think that any of that actually has anything to do with a concern about their health. It has to do about the way we think about bodies in our society."

Huzzah, again! More, more, more:

"If we want to talk about health, let's talk about health. And let's not use weight as the sole indicator."

OK, enough of quoting. TR, if I haven't told you before, I love you. And I thank you for carrying the torch when so many of us haven't made the time to truly turn on the activism gene.

And with that, nerves jangled, muscles tensed, and nearly two hours later, time for sleep.

every little bit

I've been following Kevin Smith on Twitter for a while. This came after he stopped regularly writing on his blog, which I read for a while before then. I'm a Kevin Smith fan. Although I don't think I'm hypersensitive about profanity and such, I have occasionally been slightly stunned by his remarkable candor when talking about sex. But it's never been so offensive as to stop me from reading what he writes, watching video of his performances, and enjoying his movies.

That said, his candor has been a gargantuan wellspring of excitement in the last couple days, as the man was beat about the head and shoulders with Southwest Airlines' Fatty Fatty Two By Four Mood Swings. As of Sunday evening, Google shows 919 articles about the incident.

Long story short, if you've somehow missed it, after buying two tickets on a Southwest flight (in compliance with said FFTBFMS policy), Smith attempted to get onto an earlier flight via standby. Southwest boarded him onto the plane with a single seat, and he was sitting -- seatbelted with lowered armrests -- when a flight attendant told him that the captain was booting him off the flight. Through many machinations and a couple of poorly worded public apologies, Southwest claims that his 'person of size' status dictated the move.

Smith launched a Twitter attack of epic proportions. The news channels quickly seized on it and started banging away at this new angle of the daily OMG Teh Obesity Crisis!!!11!!! discussion. As much as I feel for the guy having to go through this (it's another post, or perhaps a book, in which I discuss my personal air travel issues), it's a remarkable gift from above that a celebrity with a fan base and a platform or two has experienced this nightmare. I can only hope that his righteous ranting will shed enough light on the situation that the airlines realize something different must be done to deal with the issue of cranky customers who complain about us fatties daring to occupy the same mode of transportation with them.

I fear, however, all the red herrings that will be thrown out, and in fact, are already popping up. Claims like "fat passengers increase the aircraft's total weight, which will crash the plane" (a few hundred extra pounds when talking about a vehicle that is many tons?), "fat passengers block the path in case of emergency" (because they're just sitting still when everyone else is evacuating?!), and my favorite, "don't the poor, stupid fat passengers know it's bad for their health?" Oh, and the comments. Lordy.

So, I'm sorry Kevin Smith, that you have to fight this battle. But I'm glad you're fighting it, and loudly. There are millions of fat folks who suffer such indignities (at the hands of corporations, individuals, governments, and systems) who have neither the temerity nor the voice to wage such a war. In my perfect world, you wouldn't emphasize quite so vigorously that you are not THAT fat, though (i.e. you were able to sit comfortably with the arm rests down and no seat belt extender). Those people who are not able to do those things still deserve to be treated with dignity.

As always, there's a lot more to this discussion. But I've already spent far too much time talking about it tonight -- especially considering that I haven't even gotten into the whole First Lady anti-obesity crusade, the raft of craziness at a certain grocery chain, or the general demonization of food.

it's slipping away...

The muses are gone. Even the part-time one, who inspires meek anecdotes and easy YouTube embeddings. I'd hoped that this lovely lady sketched by Deeleigh over at Well Rounded might be enough to stir the lazy muses from their slumber. Alas, not. Or not yet -- not that I have it in me to wait around for it.

It's easy to say that available free time has decreased now that I'm well into a real, full-time job again. Especially given the depth to which my subconscious is submerged in my new industry (I have dreams about huge kettles full of cooking fruit, tiny jars packed with delectable condiments, and Excel spreadsheets brimming with pricing formulas. Every day. No, really... every day. Without exception. For coming-up-on half a year.) But I managed to shake the muses loose with reasonable frequency when previously employed in a real, full-time job. What's different this time?

There's no answer to that question, because the muses, well, they've taken leave. Even the second shift one whose sole responsibility is making excuses.

It's not for lack of topics.

* Family... ah, family
* Friends (present, past, former [different from 'past'], and maybe even future)
* A new president
* The wild (and barely tolerable) winter weather
* My rapidly growing dissatisfaction with our living quarters
* The single song I play repeatedly despite having a library of over 20,000 songs
* Poems that make me ache
* Cute cats
* Messy storage units
* A highly successful venture into making meatloaf
* Problems whose aching manifests as bouts of hives
* The sweetness in the world
* The overload of everything in the world
* The year of the landmark high school reunion
* A thick skull that remembers less and seems to only grudgingly adapt
* The imminent demise of one of my favorite size acceptance blogs
* Newly updated lists
* File boxes that look organized from the outside
* Unread books gathering dust
* The burden of truths that can never be shared

This could go on forever. Not actually writing anything interesting or insightful. Just listing the general topics. I've got this one song on repeat on my iPod so as not to wake up Ted. It's 58 degrees in here, and despite my fluffy slippers and layers of long fleece, my toes are cold. And once again, I've escaped the potential for a full night's sleep by rambling about nothing until the calendar turns.

What's the point?

And so with that, I suspect that sanguinary blue will likely come to an end. Not following Paul's suit. I've floated the idea before. Now I just need the overly pert motivation muse to kick me in the ass so I'll actually take the site down.

I'm elsewhere in the ether. One way or another, I can be reached if need be. Good night.

vote tomorrow

And tonight enjoy the Old, Fat, Naked Women For Peace!

trifecta

If you're still catching up, click here to see Episode One. Click here to see Episode Two. And now, for your viewing pleasure and general enlightenment, I give you Episode Three.



Joy Nash rocks.

len rocks my socks

Stephen does, too.

the photoshop world we live in

The March 10th issue of Time Magazine has a brief article about the importance of youthful appearance in the job market. The web version of this article isn't quite the assault to my senses that the hard copy version is, because it's missing the graphic that goes along with it.

In it, a snappily dressed man stands on one side, and a smartly outfitted woman on the other. The center title says, "New Ways to Tap into The Fountain of Youth." Neither of these people look even remotely old (must be because they've tapped that fountain). The suggestions include the following:

For the man
* Tooth-lengthening
* Butt lift and implants
* Neck tuck
* Knee-tightening

For the woman
* Hair restoration
* Earlobe repair
* Stiletto surgery
* Extreme hand makeover

The ones that stand out for me are the stiletto surgery ("...heels remain part of the dress code at the office"), the hand makeover ("knobby, spotted hands say old lady"), and the knee-tightening ("skin and cellulite pool around the knees -- unsightly at the gym").

Ack!

This article is chock full of ideas for making yourself look younger. Not a single word refers to how any of these procedures will make you healthier, just more attractive. After all, it is entitled "How Not to Look Old on the Job." But here's the kicker. Despite its obvious and complete focus on appearances, the article is listed in the "Health" category.

ACK!

Then, I have the TV on to catch the weather forecast, when a bra commercial comes on. I'm actually just listening to the TV while going through morning routine, and at first, it sounds like a typical bra commercial. Soft, flowy music, and a sultry voice exhorting her beauty secrets. But then some words start to penetrate my subconsciousness. "...revolutionary concealing petals for complete modesty." This brings me back to the day when I worked at a women's clothing store, and we had a customer who wanted to know if we carried bras that would hide her n1pples*. I'm thinking that "concealing petals" have something to do with that (a quick TiVo rewind verifies it).

But then, another kicker: "Feel confident and look flawless in every moment." Um, excuse me? Having n1pples* is a flaw? Wow, are we as a gender in trouble. Wait. Men have n1pples* too. No, I know. I get it. Having n1pples* that dare show themselves is the flaw. Even though it's safe to assume that, for most women, they already have at least two layers of fabric over said rebellious areolae.

AAAACCCCKKKKKKK!

Can't... speak... any... more... choking... urrgghhh........

* Updated to change the correct spelling of the referenced body part because some people are finding their way to my blog by searching for things about which I am NOT talking.

onslaught

astonished

This morning, after Ted opened the store and I set up my Twitter account, we ran a couple errands and went to IHOP for breakfast. We hadn't been there in a while, and I woke up craving cheese blintzes.

Now, I have to go backwards.

I am fat; have been most of my life. I fought it for many years, but repeatedly dieting only ever made me temporarily smaller before making me permanently bigger. I made a conscious decision to stop all attempts at weight loss when I was 22 years old, and with the exception of one moment of weakness in 1991 (old habits die hard, especially in the face of constant bombardment), I haven't dieted since.

I believe that dieting is worse for my health than fatness ever was or will be. I eat intuitively. Such a concept flies in the face of an industry that creates unfathomable methods and imposes insane rules. Luckily, I love nutritious food, so it makes up the bulk of what I eat every day. The net result is that I am simultaneously fat and healthy. It has confused every marginal health care provider I've ever had, and pleased the good ones.

Don't get me wrong. I totally love sweets, too. I have them when I want them. As my mother (and her mother, and her mother's mother) said, "all things in moderation." Smart women (of which, I count myself). My old job had a company-subsidized cafeteria, which was extremely convenient. This resulted in a nearly daily routine of a fresh salad, a can of Fresca, and a chocolate chip cookie for lunch. The diet industry and all those who have been brainwashed by it would look at that lunch and say, "Oh, you were doing so well until you added the cookie!" My intuition (and previous experience) tells me that the one cookie after my salad was perfectly acceptable (not to mention enjoyable), and probably prevented me from stopping at the store and picking up a box of Hostess cupcakes to eat in its entirety within the next 24 hours (an old trick from before I was so smart).

It was not easy getting to this point. In addition to the food aspect of this change, I also had to learn to accept myself without reservation. Although this is a lifelong process that every intelligent human must endure, I have found it to be tricky at times because world is constantly telling me that my size makes me unacceptable. It forces me to be defensive, a posture I've never embraced (hence my claim of being a "passive size activist"). That said, I had a good foundation of parental esteem-building, and once I had my own personal epiphany in 1994, most of the external barbs went away. Once in a while, a complete stranger is compelled to say something brilliant to me, but it usually the exception now, not the rule.

So back to this morning. Ted and I are two of a hundred people at the very popular pancake restaurant. The place is bustling. There's a crowd waiting in the foyer, and people standing outside. We are seated, enjoy our breakfast, and head out. Ted opens the door for me (how chivalrous!), and I keep walking toward the car while he stands in place for an elderly woman who had just been dropped off at the front door.

She said something to him, I didn't hear what. When I turned around, he was just standing there confounded, with a look of utter disbelief on his face. This stance lasted a couple of long seconds, while the old lady stood in front of him and looked at him with what appeared to be eager, nay gleeful, anticipation of an answer. I headed back toward him, and he said "I left the table" while shaking his head. She turned and walked into the restaurant.

He turned to me and said something to the effect of, "What the hell was that?" I asked him what she'd said. She said to the kind man who was holding open the door for her...

wait for it...

"Did you leave anything for me?"

Not "Good morning."

Not "Nice day, isn't it?"

Not "Thank you for holding the door for me, young man."

No. Instead, she cracked herself up with a joke that the fat man must have eaten all the food in the restaurant before she got there. I might have been able to shake that off as the type of politically incorrect thing that the elderly sometimes say because their ability to filter such things has diminished with old age. But hers was not just a rhetorical question asked for the sake of comedy. She stood there and waited for him to answer her. Usually sharp-tongued, Ted stumbled because he didn't want to be rude to her -- leading to the long pause and his "I left the table" response.

Upon telling me this story, my first response to his query ("What the hell...?") was that she was rude, plain and simple. Then I said he totally should have looked her in the eye and as seriously as possible said, "No. I ate everything. Go somewhere else." No, I wouldn't have been able to do it, either.

The whole thing left me hacked off for a while afterwards. It's interesting timing for me (which is silly because it didn't happen to me, it happened to Ted) because I have been entangling myself in the Fat Rights movement more and more these days. I have dramatically expanded the "Blogs I Read" and "Size" lists on the right side of my blog, after having spent countless hours reading them. I joined the COFRA website, and have even committed to attending the next BFB Think Tank in Chicago (circumstances allowing). I've been building myself up to see if I can shake the "passive" off my size activist descriptor, and then something stupid like this happens.

I have no neat and tidy end to this anecdote. So with that, nearly four hours of writing, editing, and otherwise formatting this silly entry, I need to go to bed. I must be up at 5:30am.

crushed

I once liked Peter Walsh. I watched TLC's Clean Sweep regularly and fantasized about Peter bringing in a massive team of helpers who would spend two days throwing away stuff, having yard sales, and redecorating my newly clutter-free home. I loved his no-nonsense approach to the things a person really needs and wants and loves versus the things that the person somehow accumulates.

In the last season that I watched (I stopped watching about a year ago), it got super-schmaltzy, though. They reconfigured the show's focus. Suddenly, Peter was spending an extraordinary amount of time prodding the homeowners to tears and then philosophizing about their emotional clutter while cheesy music played softly in the background. Whatever. I still thought the whole clean-up process would be cool.

So Mr. Walsh had dropped off my radar for a little while because I stopped watching Clean Sweep. But then, he somehow finagled himself into becoming one of Oprah's gurus. And despite my ongoing love/hate relationship with Oprah, I do still TiVo/watch her show (though I will occasionally delete an episode immediately if it leans toward the 'hate' side of the scale). I've seen a couple Oprah shows with Peter that were fun and fine. But the most recent one took home organization into a whole new direction -- weight loss!

Seriously, he's written a book proclaiming that cleaning your house will lead to weight loss (because the clutter prevents you from having healthy eating and exercising habits, doncha' know). As if that whole concept weren't enough to choke on, in this particular episode, he literally put a family on a line of scales and weighed them on national TV.

Now, I don't have a problem with adults who wants to flog themselves in public. But I take particular issue -- for any of about a thousand reasons -- with the fact that two of the family members were children.

First, those children did not ask to be a part of such an outrageous stunt.

Second, until about the age of 20, children grow. It's that simple. They're supposed to grow. They morph through all sorts of shapes and sizes in that time. It's important to note few things about all that growing. [A] A fat child can be healthy and active in exactly the same way as any child. [B] A fat child does not necessarily become a fat adult. [C] Even if a fat child becomes a fat adult, he or she can be healthy and active in exactly the same way as any adult, because... [D] Some people are just genetically designed to be larger than others. Period. No matter what the diet industry tries to tell you.

Third, these children are already taunted by their peers (and the media, and the general public, and sometimes even their own families) because of their size. Standing in front of a group of 30 classmates getting weighed in the school gym is enough to pulverize self-esteem and cause life-long emotional scars. But on this day, Peter Walsh increased the audience a million-fold for that torture.

Clearly, this is a man who doesn't understand some very basic tenets.

[A] It is possible to be simultaneously fit and fat.

[B] Dieting doesn't work.

[C] Humiliation is not motivation.

[D] ...

[E] ...

[F] ...

[G] ...
[H] ...
[I] ...
[J] ...
[K] ...
[L] ...
[M] ...
[N] ...
[O] ...
[P] ...
[Q,R,S,T,U,V,W,X,Y,Z]...

You get the idea. I'm not articulating well tonight. Please, please, please read Junkfood Science. Read this post in particular. Visit the sites listed in the "size" section on the right side of this blog. Plus "Fat Girl on a Bike," "Fat Rant," and "She Dances on the Sand."

Heck, sign up for the content feed from "Notes from the Fatosphere." Read up, my friends. I know the world tries to convince us that fat=bad. I'm here to tell you (badly) that it's not always the case.

That was my painfully ineloquent way of saying my flame for Peter Walsh is officially extinguished. And my disappointment in Oprah continues to grow.

miscellany

It's the Christmas season, which means I'm revelling in the spirit. Thanks to my friend, Rina, who's let me use her house as my Christmas Central, and five trips to that house later, all of our wrapping was completed a few weeks ago. That leaves me stress-free, so I can be chipper to watch sentimental old movies, enjoy all the lights and decorations, and listen to my insanely huge holiday music playlist. I love Christmas!

The blog's been quiet for a while. I'm still trying to balance three jobs, one of which keeps me working until past midnight five days a week. Other life things have cropped up in amongst the schedule, and the blog is one of many hobbies that suffer. There are two things in particular I just had to share today, so I'm squeezing in a little time to get them posted before heading out to the next series of tasks.

My friend, Chris, invited me to her Facebook community today. When I looked at her profile, I found she'd created an avatar of herself a la South Park. How freakin' cool is that? So, naturally, I had to go find the website and make one for myself. Knowing my proclivity toward certain characteristics in previous avatars, I made two versions. One that I'll show at a later date when I'm feeling particularly kooky. The other fits my standard (look right). Bonus that I got to add an iPod and a computer!

The other thing I wanted to share is a website/campaign that rallies against one of my least favorite people, MeMe Roth (I'm not linking to her site her because she doesn't deserve the traffic). Now, it's not keeping with the holiday spirit to dislike someone, especially so vehemently. In general, I attempt to focus on the behavior, not the person (parenting advice I learned years ago and never needed to implement because I have no kids!). But MeMe strikes me as someone who totally and utterly embodies the bad behavior she purports. At the tip of the iceberg is her claim that obesity is tantamount to child abuse. As a pacifist, I could slug her in the jaw for that.

Anyhoo, MeMe has taken it upon herself to attack Santa Claus because he sets a bad example ('cuz he's fat, doncha' know). Seriously. I mean... SERIOUSLY. The woman is shameless. Thankfully, there's DVA Advertising and Public Relations -- a company who decided to create a campaign encouraging the integrity of Santa's image. Check it out! My favorite part is the "graphic standards manual" for Santa. And the best part is the petition, where every signature translates to a pound of food for America's Second Harvest. Take THAT, Ms. Roth.

Santa rules!

joy nash for president

She beat me to the punch. For years, I've had a long list of size acceptance ideas accumulating as Word files on my computer. You know, the things I was someday going to spend a long, dedicated amount of time writing in some epic essay or even a book. My lifestyle has not accommodated such a desire, and instead I end up with the occasional blog entry which touches on one or two aspects of the topic.

But I'd been eager to (eventually) address this particular angle -- the one to which Joy has now beat me. Oh, I don't begrudge her. Because hers was far more effective than mine ever would be. How do I know that? Because she uses humor, video, and costumes to draw attention. I had this graphic all ready to go:

It's not easy to see, but it's Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. Yeah, it's a show-stopper. Anyway, I learned about it in high school, and always thought it was fascinating (and spot on). In the evolution of my personal size acceptance, I always came back to Maslow. Every person on the planet has a physiological need to eat. And breathe, and sleep, and a whole bunch of other things. Verbatim:

* oxygen
* water
* protein
* salt
* sugar
* calcium
* other minerals and vitamins
* maintain a pH balance (getting too acidic or base will kill you)
* maintain temperature (98.6 or near to it)
* be active
* rest
* sleep
* get rid of wastes (CO2, sweat, urine, and feces)
* avoid pain
* have sex

So, why is that -- somewhere along the line -- society decided to demonize so many physical necessities?

Anyway, I'm going to stop that discussion now because it's far less alluring than watching Ms. Nash tear it up in style! Go watch it again. And check out her blog, too.

tolerance

I've found a few interesting (not perfect, but interesting) and moderately empowering things promoting size acceptance lately. Let me tell you, this is no easy feat in a world flooded with the likes of Fat March, Shaq's Big Challenge, The Biggest Loser, Big Medicine, Inside Brookhaven Obesity Clinic, and on and on and on.

Here's an article about teaching children not to be rude to large people. Who'da thunk? Not elaborate or detailed, but it gets the general idea across.

Kate Harding is a wonderful blogger who addresses fat hatred with a vengeance in her Shapely Prose blog. A recent post written by a guest blogger drives home the point that the misguided comments of doctors can often lead to terrible consequences for fat people. Incredibly sad, but unfortunately, not difficult to believe.

PBS aired a show called "Fat: What No One is Telling You." I had high hopes for this show, but discovered that PBS too falls victim to the same unfortunate groupspeak on most aspects of fat. That is, everyone is telling us about weight loss surgery. And everyone is praising the hard work of current weight loss successes. And everyone is making the sole assumption that the only cause of larger body size is the combination of overeating and underexercising.

There were a few choice quotes that I found close to liberating, although I was so frustrated that they were wrapped in the standard fat-is-bad propaganda.

"This isn't simple. This is not a simple balance of energy in and energy out. If it were, we would have solved the problem a long time ago. We have a very, very rich and accurate physiological system that keeps our energy in balance. And all that system has to do is get disrupted by a tiny percent -- just a 1% mismatch in that system -- can lead to a 130-140 pound weight gain over your adult life.

"...The subtleties of what's going on (with obesity) in the brain that can lead to massive obesity are such that it's going to take a lot of very, very careful analysis to figure out what's going on. We know that there are 20 or 30 thousand genes in the human genome. At least 400 of them are involved in energy regulation and weight regulation. So right there, you've got 400 genes, and that doesn't even take into account all of the environmental factors. So, when you put all those things together, you have a very complex system."

- Lee Kaplan, MD, PhD; Massachusetts General Hospital, Harvard Medical School

At one point, the narrator reminds us of this important fact:

"A study of people who entered weight loss programs done in 1958 concluded:

* Of those who enter obesity treatment, most will drop out.
* Of those who stay in treatment, most will not lose weight.
* Of those who do lose weight, most will regain it.

"Fifty years later, the picture remains the same. Despite the millions and millions of dollars in scientific research, fifty years of hard work, thousands of failed weight loss schemes, no one has been able to improve those odds."

I would contend that it's because our bodies are hardwired to be what they are. Tall people are hardwired to be tall. Blue-eyed people are hardwired to have blue eyes. Thin people are hardwired to be thin. In my opinion, the defining factor in fat prejudice is the fact that bodies can be temporarily changed by altering food intake and physical activity (I can't overemphasize temporarily... 95% of people who lose weight gain all of it back plus a little more within five years). That gets blended with the confusion of correlation and causation, and people become convinced that the only possible way to be fat is to eat too much and exercise too little. Plus, "millions of dollars" in research over fifty years is no match for U.S. diet industry's $50 BILLION dollars per year.

Dr. Kaplan returns with even more compelling information.

"When the brain wants to control weight, which it wants to do almost all the time, it exerts extraordinarily powerful influences. It decides that we ought to have a certain amount of body fat so we have energy in reserve. And if we don't have that much body fat, it will do everything in its power to cause us to behave to get more energy.

"At the same time, it will put into place a program that conserves energy, so that we don't waste a lot of energy, so we don't burn off our calories, so that our body cools down just a little bit, so that everything is done to conserve energy on the output side and to get more energy on the input side. And of course, then we gain a little bit of weight.

"And so our typical response is to 'well, ok, if that's the case, we'll just eat less.' And we exercise more and our body loses some weight because that's what naturally is going to occur. But what ends up happening is that you create, in that situation, a fight between your willful brain and your subconscious brain. And when you create that kind of battle between willpower and your subconscious brain, what you end up doing is you end up creating an unwinnable situation. It's an unwinnable situation. If you have that conflict, your subconscious brain will always win.

"And an example of that is, try running up six flights of stairs and breathing slow. You can do it for a few seconds. You can force yourself to breathe at whatever rate you want to breathe at. But when your body decides it needs more oxygen, within a few seconds, it will force you to breathe faster. And there's no amount of willpower that anyone has that will slow that process down."

Emphasis mine

I contend that even this doctor (who seems to be less of a fatphobe) undermines his explanation of the subconscious brain being in total control by calling fat both a "problem" and a "disease." Harumph. I don't consider my fat a problem, and it certainly is not a disease.

It's also incredibly sad that -- even on the supposedly objective PBS -- the show is sponsored by Glaxo Smith Klein. That would be the pharmaceutical company that has a vested interested in selling its hot new over-the-counter fat-blocking/pants-pooping drug, Alli.

I have to get going. It's late. I need sleep. And there are too many things to do in preparation for our massive life change for me to be blogging. Regular posts should resume sometime in September. That's my guess. Until then, l'chaim!

mmm... donuts!

When I first heard that there was going to be a "Simpsons" movie, I was fairly indifferent about it. I'd watched the show once in a while in its early days and would occasionally run across it thereafter, but I never made it a point to watch it regularly. Oddly enough, one of my favorite quotes is from the show (whenever I'm impatient with slow technology, I conjure up Homer heating up a hot dog in a microwave and loudly bemoaning, "Isn't there anything faster than a microwave?").

In the last couple weeks, I've seen several trailers for the movie, and I admit, I really want to see it now! I'm looking forward to "Spider Pig." This morning, I discovered this website, and now I'm really excited. I created my own Simpsons avatar (see left). Pretty good resemblance, don't you think? Well, except that I only ever wear skirts (there was only one option for pants).

There's a definite trend in my avatars. First, my blog profile picture. Then my Meez character. And now Kelly Cox Simpson. Although I must say, this is the first time I've been able to endow my avatar with Rubenesque proportions -- something I've been frustratingly unable to do before now.

By the way, did I mention that I'm going to have Nick Arrojo cut my hair again? I must be insane! This will be the last time, really. After this, I would have to travel 250 miles to get to Arrojo Studio. Too far!

All right, I have a boatload of things to do today. Only 34 days until everything in our life is completely different. Details to follow. Someday.

if meme roth were dead...

... she'd be rolling over in her grave. If she thinks Jordin Sparks is a bad example, just check out these four fabulous women.

it might be working!

I don't want to give any credence to the mad ramblings of MeMe Roth, which is why I haven't thus blogged about her at all (even in the midst of the whole Jordin Sparks flare-up). But I can't not give props to The Mike & Juliet Show for sandwiching MeMe between Joy Nash and Kelly Bliss.

Watch this.

I think it is the utter level-headedness of and sheer logic espoused by Ms. Nash and Ms. Bliss that does such a wonderful job of making Ms. Roth seem so screechy. Maybe there is acceptance coming after all!

mika

what we're up against

The site meter I use on this blog gives me some details about my visitors. What city and country they're in. What time of day they visit. How many pages they read. Sometimes, they link from another blog that has me on the blogroll. Sometimes, the details are generic (AOL North America).

I often chuckle at the silly searches people do that land them here. By typing in strange combinations of words in Yahoo or Google, they are directed to sanguinary blue because one or more of the hundreds of posts I've written happen to contain one or more of the words they're looking for.

Sometimes, it makes sense. All the hits received after I mentioned Blake Lewis wiping away LaKisha Jones's tears on American Idol. And for some reason, the cute Randy Glasbergen cartoon about a messy desk that gets a lot of attention.

But today, someone visited by way of a Google search for "poems making fun of overweight people." Although it doesn't surprise me that they'd end up here because every one of those words can readily be found here, it's disheartening that the context is completely out of whack. While I talk about poems and fun and overweight and people, I would never include "poems making fun of overweight people," unless I was crazily ranting a rebuttal.

And while it was sad to know that people out there are actually doing research online to find information that might embolden their fat hatred, it came as a complete stunner that the origin of this search was University Medical Center in St. Louis, Missouri. How frustrating it is to know that someone who theoretically cares for human beings could even think of such a thing. It drives home the ongoing problem of anyone with a BMI over 24.9 getting unprejudiced medical attention.

Of course, I don't know the true reason this phrase was searched, or if the person searching it was an employee of the hospital, or if, when they got to my blog, they may have been even moderately enlightened to the concept of HAES. But it's hard to imagine a beneficial use of this particular search -- especially from this particular location.