You’re fat so I can’t hear you.

Tomorrow I’m taking my beautiful son to the paediatrician. My son has Asperger’s Syndrome – a high functioning branch of the Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) that mainly impacts on his social abilities. With his AS also comes a difficulty for attentiveness, sensory sensitivity and overload, an inability to act appropriately in certain social or emotional situations and a brilliant, amazing mind. My boy is very smart, yes sometimes he ‘looks funny’ when he flails his arms around or lulls his head from side to side or flaps, and yes sometimes he crosses personal boundaries by constantly touching people or invading personal space – but by god is he clever. He has an aptitude for maths that leaves me envious, he can read very well and is so quick with computers and technology it’s scary.  When I got my new phone (Samsung Galaxy S2) he changed the photo settings from normal to sepia and I COULD NOT work out how to change them back…. I had to ask my 7 year old to show me how.

My boy turns 8 in 2 weeks… he goes to a great school who really cares for him and is putting in place strategies to help him learn and function in a bustling, social environment. In order to help him fully, however, they need official recommendations from a paediatrician or a psychologist. This is why I’m taking him to the Paediatrician tomorrow.

I’m really, really nervous about this. This will be our 3rd paediatrician since his first semi-official diagnosis. I hate going to new doctors. I fear that they will look at me – an obese mother – and assume I do not know how to look after my child. I fear that my fat will cloud THEIR judgement, will distract them from listening to me. Especially when I have to explain to them that we have my boy on a very strict diet. No artificial additives (preservatives, colours or flavours), no MSG (including flavour enhancers) and no salycilates. I’m sure they look at me and scoff “as if you could be disciplined enough to stick to that; you can’t even control your own weight”. I am afraid of doctors, afraid of their judgement, and afraid that they will transfer that judgement onto my child who NEEDS their help.

I’m especially nervous because my boy’s Dad will be coming with me… sporting an off to the side mohawk and several facial piercings (cheeks, labret, septum, and bridge). He has Asperger’s too… which possibly explains the piercings and mohawk (I don’t know?). He gets judged constantly….  all the time, every time we go anywhere people stare at him, some point, some snigger. I HATE IT… but not for him… I hate it for selfish reasons because they automatically look from him to me…. and I hate people noticing me.

So there we will be – a fat woman and a …. i don’t even know what to call him… and I’m so worried that the paediatrician is just going to write us off as freaks and losers who don’t know a thing. I worry that she will discredit my son’s AS, that she will ignore the symptoms and consider me over-reacting. Even thought his school teacher and principal recognises his AS symptoms, acknowledges that he has Asperger’s and treats him accordingly.

There is a part of me wishing and praying that this doctor is fat…. and I hate feeling that way.

Suffer the pain!!!

This delightful image was posted by a friend on his facebook today. I commented; he was clearly upset at what I’d deduced from this image and told me to “take it elsewhere” so after removing my comments, here is me “taking it elsewhere”!

This image really pisses me off. Firstly… “Suffer the pain of discipline or suffer the pain of regret” really?? Your only two options involve suffering and pain??? I find this really offensive, I can tell you now as a fat person that I do not live every day “suffering the pain of regret”. Regret signifies that you should have done something but didn’t and now wont get the same chance again. So, what am I regretting exactly??  Not sticking it out at the gym? Nope, don’t regret that! Not continuing with the Weight Watches soul destroying meetings and point calculating? Nope, don’t regret that either! Not staying on the Duramine (possibly spelt incorrectly) and forking out $110 a month for legalised speed? Certainly don’t regret that one. Regret not listening to every magazine, diet add, random stranger or family member tell me I should lose weight because they’re “worried about your health”… yeah don’t regret that either.

You know what I DO regret though?? Leaving it so long to just go “Fuck you, this is who I am and if you don’t like it then piss off”. I regret waiting till I was 30 to come to the conclusion that I am already awesome!!!

Secondly; I really hate that this image insinuates that people are fat because they are undisciplined. This is such a shitty concept. *I* personally am probably some what undisciplined in that I’m kinda wishy-washy; I don’t stick to schedules of my own very well (although I can stick to a timetable for uni or whatever). I don’t have a “study schedule” or anything like that. I budget pretty well but mostly find it hard to stick to things like that. I have tried writing out a weekly meal plan but get inspired by other things and it goes out the window. Okay, so I’m not very disciplined at all. However this is not why I’m fat, my lack of discipline hasn’t made me fat. People shouldn’t have to be disciplined when it comes to food. Discipline to me, sounds too much like punishment and force and restrictions. Food shouldn’t be like that. Food (good food) should be joyous and fun and eaten with passion; not with discipline.

Exercise should be spontaneous and fun and enjoyable. Not punishing and restrictive. It should be encouraging, making you wanting to go back not dreading the thought of it.  I get that some people work better with structure and rules and *shudders* discipline but it bugs me that fat people are looked at as people who need disciplining. People who need punishment and restriction.

I don’t get what’s motivating about this picture. This picture says to me “If you’re not hurting yourself, if you’re not punishing yourself, then you are failing and you are a failure. If you don’t push yourself to SUFFER PAIN then you will end up fat and live in painful regret for the rest of your life”. Fuck that shit; Fat is not the worse thing you can be.  Cruel is worse, stupid is worse, ignorant is worse, violent is worse, bigoted is worse than being fat. I would not trade my brains for a skinny body. I would not trade my kindness for a smaller waist. I would not trade my passion for a smaller clothes size. Those things matter far too much to me to trade them off for something superficial, for something that won’t guarantee me any security in anything at all throughout my life.

Suffer the pain of discipline? No thanks; I’ll keep my fat, with no regrets.

Some emo crap; this post needs cake

I haven’t posted in a long time; mostly because I haven’t had anything to say, but also because I had trouble collating my thoughts.

I guess I have stuff to say now; but I’m not sure how well I’ll go saying them coherently so just bare with me please.

My partner and I have separated. We were together (off and on, off and on, off and on) for 11 years. I loved him dearly at one point, but now I can’t remember when that stopped, and I can only remember what it felt like to be in love with him. I still love him deeply as the father of my children, and as my best friend, but not as a boyfriend/lover/husband. It’s a fine line that separates those loves, but it is one I am sure I have crossed.

It’s been a week since I drove him to the airport. I was surprised to discover it had only been that long. It feels like weeks and weeks since I have seen him.  I miss him, which is to be expected. I miss just having him here. I miss having his smell in the house, and his laughter, but more than that I just miss having the presence of another adult.

I was watching one of my favourite TV series last night and something happened that I wasn’t expecting. I went to turn to him and comment, and then of course I remembered her wasn’t here….. he wont be here, again.  Not in this house, at least.

I’m moving too, for University, to the same town that Jamie has moved too. It’s scary, and intimidating, to move to a town where I know so little people, where I feel like I have no allies, no backup. Thankfully I’ll be out of town, so I can kind of exclude myself a lot. Although this isn’t always a good thing because I am a hermit by nature and don’t need an excuse to hide from the world.

Jamie will come out to my house on occasion, and spend the night so he gets some good quality time with the kids. I’m actually looking forward to those nights.

What frightens me, is when I get TOO comfortable with those nights, when it becomes a routine for me and something I depend on…. because that’s when Jamie will find someone else.  And then he wont come over as much; he wont call or text or message me on facebook. That”s what frightens me… because although Jamie and I have split up I can kind of pretend I’m not doomed to be single forever while he’s still around.  I can pretend that we could get back together at any time.

Of course, I don’t want to get back with Jamie… not logically… not really. I just can’t do that to any of us anymore. It’s been too long like this, back and forth. I’ve wanted to badly for it to work, I’ve prayed, I’ve soul searched, I’ve tried to change…. in the end, we just don’t gel. That makes me sad, I just wanted to have the one man, have kids, get married. Live happily.

And all this starts me thinking and fearing about my future. Because I think about who I am, and what I am, and what I can offer and what it means to be with someone like me… and I don’t like what I see.  I’m 30, with 2 children, one who is “special needs” (although not really), I’m painfully shy, weird, bordering on asexual, and fat. WTF kind of fucked up combination is that? WHO in their right mind would take that on?  WHY would someone take that on, when they could have gorgeous, child-free, baggage free 30 year olds instead. I fear my standards are too high, but I don’t want to lower them. I don’t want to settle for someone who’s second to what I want. It upsets me that I feel like I even should. It upsets me that I am told, subtly, through media, and not so subtly through some men, that I should be GRATEFUL that anyone wants me.

That makes me just want to retreat into my beautiful new home and ignore the world. Ignore Jamie, because eventually he will totally leave me (even though it was me who left him this time; I always like to think I have him still, on my own selfish terms).

Thoughts like these make me want to gorge and punish myself. They make me want to give up. They make me frightened and lonely and scared.

I”ve felt like such an emotional wreck lately, the most stupid things are making me cry.  Today my brother told me in a text that he was looking forward to seeing my daughter because he loves her and I was in blubbering mess. My hormones must be going ape shit. Sometimes I hate being a woman.

I wish I was a man, then it would be okay for me to be fat… I could just be childfree (because hey, that’s the Mum’s job) and piss away my emotions,  get drunk and pretend everything is right with the world.

But alas, I’m not a man…. I’m a fat woman, alone, with two kids, I’m shy and paranoid and strange. I cannot tell when people like me, and I’m always shocked when they tell me they do.  I fear I have no hope in this mean, crazy world.

x

Gratuitous picture post

I used to be your size

I’ve been wanting to post about this since it happened last week but I’ve been caught up with TAFE (which is nearly over) and well just couldn’t be bothered. Now is the time for me to be talking about it.

Saturday night I went to a friend’s 21st. We were having a great time, went to dinner, back to her place for drinks, then to one of the local pubs here in town. There were 9 of us at the pub at first, then 4 left to go to the club. Leaving the Bestie, my friend’s brother, her sister & partner and I at the pub.

There was a live band playing, they were very good as far as pub bands go but they were playing music that is just so far beyond my scene it’s depressing. Lots of AC/DC and you know that kind of pub-rock stuff that I just hate. Real ‘aussie’ stuff.

Anyway so I was sitting with my group just to the edge of the dance floor, minding my own business, watching the oldies crank it on the floor.

A couple were doing some rock-n-roll dancing quite close to us, obviously drunk, bumped into my friend’s sister more than once…. anyway the woman suddenly comes up to me and says “come dance with me”, I shake my head and say “no thanks” (I probably looked terrified – I was, I hate strangers approaching me, especially drunk ones, in a place that I’m not comfortable in) and then she leans over and says “I used to be your size”

Um…. what?

I say “okay?” and proceed to look away when she grabs me and drags me to the dance floor. I say to her “That didn’t make me want to dance with you!” and she says “Just one dance, it’ll be good for you” (Seriously, wtf?) So I do, I dance with her and her (ex) husband one time. Then rush back to my seat…

Then she sends he husband to come and dance with me. OMG ><  I thought it was pretty obvious I didn’t want to dance… but they seemed to think I was being shy fat girl who secretly wanted to dance but was just too heartbroken because I had no one to dance with????

Husband says to me “When I met my wife she was 150kgs.” I say “great, good for you” and the wife comes over and basically repeats what he just said. “I was your size when I met my husband… you’ll find a man who will look past the weight and see into your mind and heart”

what the fucking fuck????

I wasn’t there to pick up for a start, or look for a husband, or dance to acca-dacca. I was there to have a drink with friends and watch drunkards on the dance floor.  The worst part for me, was that I wasn’t even thinking about my size while I was there. I ignored my fatness and was having a good time  until this nosey woman threw it back in my face. Not cool.

She says to me “I know what it’s like to be out with friends and be the biggest girl in the room; sometimes you just need someone to take that step and dance with you.” To which I replied “Look, love, that might have been what YOU wanted. But I just want to be left alone, I’ve just ended an 11 year relationship. I don’t want to even acknowledge men exist right now, let alone dance with one.”

I have one more dance with her Husband, who gets much to close for my comfort level (don’t worry I told him so and he respected my wishes) and return to my friends. If that pub had been remotely my scene you wouldn’t get me OFF the dance floor!

The whole incident pretty much ended my night and just made me want to run home to bed. The thing is, I know I’m fat, I know I’m the fattest girl in ANY room I walk into – comes with the territory, there aren’t many women in the town I live that are close to my size. I don’t need to be reminded, or have it pointed out to me. This woman’s intentions were good, I know that, but she was projecting her feelings about he weight onto me. I don’t think I looked like I was having a bad time, or was lonely, or sad, or depressed. I was laughing and talking and generally being happy. This woman’s comments had me feeling vulnerable and worse of all OBVIOUS. Being the size that I am, it’s hard to escape the stares, the sniggers, so I like to try and blend in as much as I possibly can. Which is why I dress as conservatively as I do, I don’t need any help standing out of the crowd (this is something I am trying to work on, btw).

When the band finished up and the back deck was being closed the woman came up and appologised for being inappropriate. Then started to cry… saying she just wanted me to have a good time (umm? I was before you came along) and wanted to let me know there was hope for me (gee, thanks, I never thought there wasn’t).  I told her that I understood her intentions were good, but that she saw things in me that simply weren’t there that night. I was happy, having a good time, checking out the hotties, laughing with friends. I didn’t NEED to be reminded about my size, or the fact that men won’t approach me because of the stigma of chatting up a fat chick.

It was disappointing to me that she brought her ex-fat pity into my consciousness that night. I am a fat woman, totally, there is no denying that. I’m also intelligent, compassionate, kind, patient, funny and confident on occasion – those are the aspects of my being that I want promoted and recognised (although I know these are harder to get to).

I’m not entirely sure what that encounter was supposed to teach me, yet, but I’m sure there is a lesson in there somewhere?

Doctors: The Sequel

I had a horrible, demoralising experience at the doctors today; and on the way home, while I was choking back tears and wondering why the world hated me so much I actually entertained the thought of doing away with my blog. For a minute there (actually it was more like 2 or 3 minutes) I believed everything the world has told me. I’m worthless, I eat like a pig, I’m disgusting, and an absolute burden on society.

I arrived at my mums and vented for a bit and decided that I will not be silenced. So here, I lay out for you my experiences at the doctors today.

The Fat Tax – fear based, or health based?

Over on The Hoopla they posted an article titled “Does Australia need a Fat Tax?” written by Susie Burrell, a dietician and psychologist (this scares me because her attitude through the article is so biased) who I refuse to link because I don’t like her. You can track her down through the Hoopla article page.

The article reads as follows:

Damn those fat kids!

This morning on facebook, The Daily Telegraph posted this gem:

Kiddie gyms for tubby toddlers.

Yup, you read that right. Now our TODDLERS are deemed worthy targets for the “war on obesity”.

You can read the article below the cut, as well as my views on this outrage.

Poetry

I used to be quite the angsty poet when I was younger. LOL I can say that now that I’m 30 “when I was younger” hahah

Anyway, I wrote mainly out of heartache. All the back and forth my partner and I did was enough to fill a tome with angsty poems.

Two poems I wrote, however, were about being fat.

So I thought I’d post them here, in my fat blog

*grins*

So here they are….

But, you know, being fat is really unhealthy.

This has been said to me, many times, by many people. My best friends, family members, acquaintances, total strangers, doctors. They don’t always use those words, but ultimately it’s what they’re all saying.

“You are fat and Fat = Unhealthy FULL STOP”

Yup, being fat can be unhealthy. Being fat can arise through unhealthy lifestyles and eating patterns, however they aren’t the ONLY reason people become fat and they are not the only factors in a fat person’s fatness.