Fat is a Feminist F*cked Up Issue

Many years ago, I read an article which I am pretty sure was titled, "Et tu, Camryn?" My memory tells me it was in Bitch magazine, although I can find no evidence of this online. But I have an almost-eidetic memory, and even though it's declining a bit with age (I'm 47), I still trust it on this point. The article was a condemnation of Ms. Mannheim for losing weight. Granted, she had written an early fat acceptance memoir (Wake Up, I'm Fat!). But the article was written as if she had betrayed all the other fat girls and women in the world, and perhaps even feminism itself, by losing weight. Isn't it funny how, apparently, a woman's reproductive choices should be kept private between her and her doctor*, but not her weight?

The ad featuring this young woman dancing around in her underwear while eating ice cream was all over my Hulu for a while. 

During previous attempts to get my eating under control (and, OK, lose weight), I've had nightmares where Andrea Dworkin chases me through the streets, shouting "f*ck your fascist beauty standards!" at me. There are certain theories of dream analysis that say every person in a dream is actually the dreamer, so if that is true, that's a part of my own brain screaming at me, even though I rather urgently need to lose weight for my health. But here's the thing: growing up in America, it's pretty much impossible to separate out the health aspect of one's weight and the physical desirability aspect. 

Adele experienced both praise and backlash after posting this photo of herself on Instagram following a significant weight loss.

This is a double-edged sword for me, because like so many women who have experienced sexual violence, being desirable doesn't feel safe. But at the same time, I would like to have a romantic significant other, and that feels much more likely to happen if I were thin(ner). Not to harp on "LO," but I can't help but think that if I matched up more closely with current standards of beauty, things would have turned out differently between us. 

"75 pounds! I lost 75 pounds!" Joan Cusack, as Emily, protests after being left at the altar in In and Out.

But I don't, and that's not without its own twisted benefits. There's the feeling of safety it brings, however false it may be. But it also provides an instant jerk filter. As Sarai Walker writes in one of my all-time favorite books, Dietland, "Because I'm fat, I know how horrible everyone is. If I looked like a normal woman, if I looked like you, then I'd never know how cruel and shallow people are. I see a different side of humanity." This holds true across all contexts of life: work, friends, dating, interactions with strangers in person and online, even among communities that fight for justice for all manner of other oppressed people. 

Joy Nash plays Alicia "Plum" Kettle in the television adaptation of Dietland.

But despite all this, I have to do what's best for my health. So I'm trying to keep my focus squarely on health goals - both measurable things like lab results and heart rate and blood pressure, and also more amorphous things like pain levels and ability to walk around and the amount of energy I have. It's also why I am not tracking my progress this time in pounds lost, but in the amount of time I've abstained from foods not included in my eating plan. And, well, if I end up looking better in the process, what can you do?

*Management of this blog is adamantly pro-choice and this statement in no way is meant to express disagreement that a woman's reproductive choices should be left between her and her doctor. But weight should be, too.