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Long time, no write

June 7, 2014

I hardly ever post anything here, usually because I’m thinking about something else.  It’s not really a blog as such, just a place to occasionally stick thoughts that for whatever reason I feel should be “out there” in public view.  As far as I know nobody actually reads this but me, but somehow putting it out there makes it seem more like a dialogue with the universe.

Anyway I have been reading some old blog posts about fat acceptance this morning, and some of the comments that have been made when fat people have the audacity to just exist in a public way. Over at Obesity Timebomb I read an older post about some comments made on a portrait which showed the OT flashing passerby. The thing that struck me in particular was that the commenter claims a punk identity and an interest in things that are ugly, repulsive, or gross, yet is completely hung up and disgusted by the idea that the portrait could be in any way considered beautiful because the OT is fat and presumed to be unhealthy. The commenter completely failed to see how rejecting someone for their alleged grossness is completely contrary to a punk aesthetic which delights in the shocking, the ugly, or the jarring. Actually, come to think of it, I experienced this same kind of rejection back in my goth days. Although the community, as it were, liked to think of itself as being a refuge for the rejected, I was still a reject even in this group because of my size.

I came to the conclusion myself some years ago that being “openly” fat is actually a very radical thing to do. I say openly, because of course there is no way to conceal my body size as one might, for instance, conceal their homosexuality. But the concept of openness applies, I think, because while I can’t claim to be truly free of shame over my body (something that I will probably be working on for the rest of my life), I do think I have made enough progress on accepting myself as I am that I am not as acutely aware of or ashamed of my fatness as I once was. Despite my occasional posts on dieting and my history of thinking about diets, I don’t think I have actually made any kind of concerted effort to lose weight since I was a teenager. I’d like to be a bit smaller but really that has more to do with my consumerist greed and desire to buy lots of clothes. And although part of me still thinks of my concern with fashion and style to be reprehensibly vapid, on the other hand it can also be seen as a manifestation of the radical-ness of accepting my fatness. I don’t want to wear frumpy clothes and appear as if I made no effort in my appearance, in part because that reinforces the idea that I cannot be seen as aesthetically appealing, that I don’t take care of myself, that I am a slob.

Of course these things can be more or less true depending on how much I have procrastinated on the housework, but really, I think that my unwillingness to take care of myself and my habitat is less a cause of my fatness and more a result of it. I seem to have absorbed the message that because I am fat I must also be lazy and slovenly, and not worthy of taking care of. Which is something that I would really like to change.

And on that note, I’m off to clean up the bedroom.

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