The Body Politic: No 4 - Eating in Public

For those of you who want to know (I always want to know): pickled radishes and avocado, plus smoked mackarel and watercress and edamame salad. Yum. My favourite pair of chopsticks which I brought back from Tokyo.

I want this blog to be positive.

It's just that from time to time it will be necessary for me to go off on a rant - because one of my many daily conundrums is living as a fat woman in a fat-hating society. So this category, "The Body Politic", will provide a space for these (angry) musings. If you can't handle a bit of rage and disappointment - please stop reading right now.

Of course it is not all sunshine and flowers. I know that this blog is mostly about the beautiful places I visit or new ideas for various craft projects, that I haven't worked on the Body Politic series for years now, but that I really should. Because now that summer is almost upon us and much of life is taking place outside, this also means that I am much more in contact with people I do not know and who do not know me but who react to my body.

The bench I often sit on to eat my lunch is next to a very busy road and I can sense it. I haven't really thought of eating in public as a political act but as a fat woman eating her lunch in a public place I must say that it feels like a (mostly silent) protest. The people I get the most horrified looks from are usually women. I doesn't matter if I am eating crisps or carrot sticks. I get stared at. Someone that fat should just stop eating altogether, right? Or at least do it behind closed doors, in the dark? In their eyes I am committing a shameful act in public, and I am doing it most brazenly, not hunched over my lunchbox but usually with a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other. And sometimes I even bring a few biscuits along for afters!

I have started to think of my having lunch in public as making a political statement which seems a bit sad to me. Food sustains us but I deeply believe that it should be enjoyed, that it helps absolutely nobody to demonise the act of eating in this way. Food is not sinful or evil. I have lived in the ever-deepening spiral of self denial, ravenous binge-eating and numbing guilt for so many years that I can well understand how food becomes connected with such emotions - but I don't want to live like this anymore. And so I must protest. Every day. In the sunshine, if I am lucky.

I haven't found a new photo of me actually eating and haven't posted a photo of me in a long time. This is from a recent Sunday morning, I have been up since 6 and looking very bleary-eyed. No make-up, multiple chins. Hair is quite long now.

The Body Politic: No 3 - Escape

wooly hat/Wollmütze: selfmade/selbstgemacht; cardigan: Samoon; book/Buch: Virginia Woolf: A Room of One's Own & Three Guineas; dress/Kleid: selfmade/selbstgemacht; leg warmers/Stulpen: selfmade/selbstgemacht; shoes/Schuhe (sorry that you can't really see them): Clarks

I want this blog to be positive.

It's just that from time to time it will be necessary for me to go off on a rant - because one of my many daily conundrums is living as a fat woman in a fat-hating society. So this category, "The Body Politic", will provide a space for these (angry) musings. If you can't handle a bit of rage and disappointment - please stop reading right now.

During the last few days I have been thinking about the various means that offer escape from our bodies. Reading, writing, painting - also watching endless movies - can serve as escape routes that are used by fat people to enter different realities in which identification is possible but not dependent on the experience of the body one possesses. Aaawww, this sounds terribly complicated.


I have been writing and making up stories as long as I can remember. My parents tell me that even before I was able to read I would open picture books and pretend to read the book to my little brother - I simply made up a story that went along with the pictures. And in pretending to read I told yet another story: of myself being already able to read.

I grew up in a family which is obsessed with books and the occasional newspaper or magazine. Even when my brother and I were little we used to go with my Mom to our local library, carrying the books that we wished to return in a laundry basket. Even though this meant that German and Literature and sometimes History were comparatively easy to deal with for me in school, it soon became apparent that literature provided another possibility: with the help of books I managed to withdraw from my body.

I spent the majority of my existence living in books and I continue to do so, because I still consider this one of the most enjoyable experiences that can be had in this life - getting lost in a good story. (This is why some television series are highly addictive for me.) I have practiced loosing myself for quite sometime now. As I am preparing to get sucked into a world of my own for the whole of November (for NaNoWriMo - making plans for the characters, considering various plot solutions) I have started to wonder about this wish to disappear into fiction, either by reading or by writing.

One of the most important reasons for me, as I grew up fat, was (obviously) the possibility of loosing myself. Or better yet, to re-brand myself. Writing fiction (and the fantasy genre is really the most effective for this) one can create a multitude of characters that are basically improved versions of oneself. I can give myself a better hairstyle, a desirable body, a much better social life - thinking back to the scribblings of my teenage years most of the stories were just that. 

Being fat and thus being made to feel very undesirable fueled my search for new escape routes - VHS cassettes and later DVDs became incredibly important, and music started to become relevant even though I am really not what you would call musical, which I have often deeply regretted. But nothing worked as well as writing fiction, inventing a whole host of new friends (and enemies), worlds and plot lines. 

The magic for me lies in how the many different facets of self are scattered through fiction. Reading through old manuscripts I discover endless references to real life situations and even in my fantasy fiction period lots of virtual reality mirrored actual reality - a lot of my protagonists had serious body issues (although they didn't tend to be fat - or if they were, this usually wasn't their particular problem). 

Writing can be a lot more than providing the means to escape. Writing can be a useful tool to deal with real life issues and I am convinced that it helped me to start re-thinking my life, back in 2008. Fact is that I usually have one or three ideas on the go and this helps to keep my thoughts busy as well as experiencing the rapture of the actual writing process - which can be extremely frustrating, infuriatingly slow or even non-productive, but also very exciting and exquisite. I would go as far as calling it delicious, maybe you'll understand what I actually mean even though it is difficult to express. It is a bit like using words like spices, but instead of manipulating your taste buds you manipulate your own emotions. You can make yourself feel happy or sad, or wallow in wish fulfillment fantasies - there are so many possibilities!

Escape can turn into self care, into something that actually helps you to cope with the fat-hating society we are living in, by boosting your self-esteem (well, sometimes). But for me it is important to see the other side as well: escaping, hiding, trying to make oneself into a more lovable person to please others - I am still aware of my old reflexes even though I try to get every last bit of joy out of the experience.

Love, Qaroline

---

Ich habe noch keine deutsche Version dieses Textes. Wenn Du eine Übersetzung lesen möchtest, bitte kontaktiere mich unter qaroline.s.qonundrums@gmail.com und ich werde mich bemühen, sie so rasch wie möglich anzufertigen. Danke!

glasses/Brille: eyes + more

The Body Politic: No. 2 - Clothes

I want this blog to be positive.

It's just that from time to time it will be necessary for me to go off on a rant - because one of my many daily conundrums is living as a fat woman in a fat-hating society. So this category, "The Body Politic", will provide a space for these (angry) musings. If you can't handle a bit of rage and disappointment - please stop reading right now.

Only a few years ago I discovered that I actually like to play around with clothes, different styles, different accessories. Before that (fashion-wise at least) my life used to be pretty bleak. I hated the clothes my Mom bought for me (well, that’s not that unusual, I’m sure) and they tended to be the usual tent-like clothes for fat people, even though back then I was big and muscly rather than fat.

Being so much at odds with my body I settled on a kind of well-what-else-is-there hippie style, but mostly I wore what few clothes fit my height and the width of my shoulders: flannel shirts and corduroy flares. This became my uniform for most of my school years. If I dared to wear something different the reactions of my school mates showed me that I was not supposed to make an effort, “it’s not right for you”, “it’s not you” etc.

Like so many fat girls I had the usual horrible shopping experience: being made to watch a thin friend in a high street store trying on hundreds of different outfits while literally nothing in the same store would have fitted me. I usually came back from those trips thoroughly hating myself and the world around me (as well as the particular friends who didn’t even realise what they were putting me through).

When I discovered the plus-sized store chain that is situated on every high street in Germany this was a genuinely astonishing experience for me – a shop in which everything could (at least theoretically) have been worn by me! Of course I still didn’t have the money to buy my own clothes there but I usually convinced my Mom to buy at least a few pieces. The more affordable plus-sized range at H&M tends to cater for a very unrealistically shaped fat woman but at least I found some clothes there that fit my own idea of what kind of a person I was.

Clothes tell stories about the identities we wish to assume. I usually pick some fashionable pieces each season that I really like and so my wardrobe tends to be a thorough mix of pieces I wear again and again. My feelings towards the fashion industry are deeply ambivalent though. I like to watch documentaries about various fashion labels and to see how new ideas about clothes develop but the body image the industry (usually) promotes is so very disturbing … I guess a lot of healthy scepticism is needed when discussing fashion. In a way I am grateful for being fat and interested in fashion. It gives me the opportunity to view all this from a critical perspective – but also to enjoy and make the most of the possibilities given to fat people.

However, it must be stressed that the scarcity of plus-sized clothes ranges seriously restricts fat people, especially fat people who wear larger sizes (like me) and thus are made to feel like proper social outcasts. Another example is the non-existence of plus-sized pregnancy clothes – a fat friend of mine who is in the 7^th month of her pregnancy got very frustrated when she tried to find anything wearable on our local German high street. She said this made her feel really freaky – as if fat people were somehow not supposed to have babies.

Finding a way to dress that tells the story of myself that I want to tell, has been quite a quest – although I am sure that a lot of people would tell me that this is frivolous and unimportant, it has been a valid experience for me in order to find at least a sort of inner balance. People still react strongly to my appearance and the comments that are made about my body have actually become more frequent – I guess people think: Well, she makes herself visible, this gives me the right to say something about her fat arse. But I’m starting to find a way to cope with this; the playful aspect of fashion appeals so much to me that I refuse to give it up and sink back into blandness …

I am aware that this is just another kind of uniform and a brightly coloured façade to hide my annoyance and at times my vulnerability. I tend to dress really colourful whenever I am feeling unsure about myself and my ability to cope with my life. We fat people interested in fashion have to work hard at our own style – and I have the feeling that our style often becomes something much closer to ourselves, much more personal than the style of people who just take their pick of everything in the shops. This impression might be unfair – please let me know if you wish to talk about these issues, I would be delighted to discuss them!

---

Ich habe noch keine deutsche Version dieses Textes. Wenn Du eine Übersetzung lesen möchtest, bitte kontaktiere mich unter qaroline.s.qonundrums@gmail.com und ich werde mich bemühen, sie so rasch wie möglich anzufertigen. Danke!

The Body Politic: No. 1 - Food

I want this blog to be positive.

It's just that from time to time it will be necessary for me to go off on a rant - because one of my many daily conundrums is living as a fat woman in a fat-hating society. So this category, "The Body Politic", will provide a space for these (angry) musings. If you can't handle a bit of rage and disappointment - please stop reading right now.

I know that every fat human being has his or her private collection of dreadful experiences to look back on and the last thing I want to do here is to claim that my experiences were/are more hurtful than those of other people. I realise that I come from a rather privileged, white middle-class background and had many opportunities, educational and otherwise, other people do not possess - but in a way this adds to my ambivalent feelings on the subject. Until I became interested (and involved) in self acceptance I never thought that I was allowed to complain.

Since then I have looked back a lot and thought about much of my past behaviour. I have always acted as if my fatness (and my height) was something I had to apologise for and I still catch myself compensating by being extra nice and extra helpful. Don't get me wrong, I still am a bit of a harmony addict and usually I like myself nice and helpful - but from time to time I'm definitely going over the top and the reasons for this behaviour worry me.

I have always been taller than all the other girls my age and from very early on I have been fatter, too. The preparation of food and food in general are very important in my family. My Mom used to cook super healthy - sweets became something of a forbidden pleasure. Being greedy I have suffered from food envy a long time now and I used to go through the pantry searching for cookies or chocolate - making sure that I didn't have to share them with anybody else. Food has served various purposes for me but I definitely used it to make myself feel better and to reward myself - the forbiddenness of it all only added to the thrill.

Hunting for food, the concealment and the shame about my behaviour made me feel to be a disappointment to my family and to myself. Consequently I tried to discipline my greed (but also my natural hunger) by starving myself. I have inflicted this punishment on myself for decades, trying to be a better daughter, a better girl, a better human being. So from at least 12 years onward I spent my school days alternally binge-eating and denying myself any food at all.

I am quite lazy but used to participate in a lot of sports – among them sports that tend to be especially concerned with body weight: ballet and horseback riding. Due to my height and fatness I did experience a lot of discrimination from various riding and ballet teachers and their collective pupils. My eating disorder flourished under these circumstances, as you can well imagine.

As my mother still goes on a diet each year despite the newest scientific data, I was further pressured into dieting in my teens. My younger brother used to be extremely open about his disgust for and his views on the sexual undesirability of fat women. Even today I have to argue with my father about my choice to enjoy food and stay fat.

In my early and late twenties I had lots of fat friends but nobody around me served as an example for self or even fat acceptance. They all had their own body issues and suffered from self hate – even most of my really thin friends thought themselves too fat and practised extremely unhealthy eating regimes.
I tried to lose weight with similar restrictions, exercising until my body hurt and I was persuaded more than ever to believe my body to be worthless and undesirable. And then – in 2008 – I moved into my first own flat – no parents, no siblings, no flatmates! – and decided not to weigh myself anymore. To turn my interest in food into an asset.

Since then I started to bake and cook in earnest, started to make and buy clothes that actually look and feel good on me and are not just tries to hide and thus to lie about the shape of my body. Food for me is now mostly associated with sensuality, training my cooking skills, something that can be thoroughly and justly enjoyed (of course I get the odd wobble from time to time, the shame reflex is just too well trained).

Discovering the fantastic blogs concerned with fat acceptance, fat politics and self love that are all over the internet now was an important step to confirm to myself that there are a lot of similar stories out there and that I really want those experiences to stop.

I have started re-designing my life – on some days it is really hard on me and there are so many times I wish I had the chuzpe to confront everyone that thinks it is acceptable to insult and judge me without knowing me or to tell people I usually think of as good friends that I really don’t want to hear all about their weight loss and how much less they feel like a freak because of it. I am fat and greedy – and I take full responsibility.

Thank you.

---

Ich habe noch keine deutsche Version dieses Textes. Wenn Du eine Übersetzung lesen möchtest, bitte kontaktiere mich unter qaroline.s.qonundrums@gmail.com und ich werde mich bemühen, sie so rasch wie möglich anzufertigen. Danke!

Revolution!

Auf spiegel.de ist seit einigen Tagen ein Artikel in der Kategorie "Karrierespiegel" geschaltet, der wunderbar illustriert, wie selbstverständlich es ist, dass dicke Menschen und gerade dicke Frauen rein auf ihr Äußeres bezogen abgeurteilt werden. Unter der Überschrift "Wenn Kilos zum Karrierekiller werden" [da hat mal wieder jemand sein Alliterationsbudget überzogen] wird berichtet, dass in einer Studie der Universität Tübingen [kann man hier herunterladen] festgestellt wurde, dass Personaler dicken Menschen keine Führungsqualitäten zutrauen, schon gar nicht dicken Frauen. An diesem Artikel stört mich eher der ungläubige Tonfall als der Inhalt, die Kommentare allerdings, die im Forum von spiegel.de abgegeben werden, lassen ausgezeichnet erkennen, wie uninformiert und vorurteilsbelastet mit dem Thema umgegangen und mit wie viel Genuss auf andere Menschen herabgesehen wird. Dies ist ein richtig gutes Beispiel dafür, wie dringend sich die öffentliche Wahrnehmung ändern muss - und wie punkig und revolutinär es sein kann, dick zu sein und diesen Zustand nicht verändern zu wollen!