Sizism or Sexism? (the answer is "yes")

A friend of mine pointed out an ongoing buzz in the Indy racing world, where the main regulators of the sport have mandated a minimum weight limit for each vehicle/driver combination. One driver, Danica Patrick, believes that the new mandate is pointed directly at her. At 5'2" and 100 pounds she's the lightest driver on the circuit by about 20 pounds.

And boy oh good'ol'boy, are the male drivers in a tiff.

Claiming that her weight gives her a significant and unfair advantage in racing (you know, demonstrated by the fact that she hasn't actually ever won a race), several male drivers have petitioned hard for this minimum weight ruling, some even refusing to race with Patrick until such a ruling was in place.

Patrick (rightly) feels that she's being penalized for being a small woman in a primarily male-dominated field, and that the weight restrictions are one more form of bullying to keep women drivers from succeeding as anything but a PR sound-byte in racing.

When I first heard about this, I had very mixed emotions. First I wondered how much difference 20 pounds (or even 100) could really make in a 3200 pound car. Since I don't follow car racing at all, I'm still not sure (although the head of the Indy Racing League states that it doesn't make any significant difference). Then I thought about how this might actually level the field, as all drivers under 200 pounds would need to add weighted ballast to the car to bring the driver/vehicle combo up to the minimum. They've been doing it in horse racing for many, many moons to make up the difference between the weight a horse is assigned to carry (their "handicap") and the weight of the jockey (who often live in a semi-permanent state of anorexic dieting to stay under weight limits).

But the more comments I read from bloggers and commenters, the more I'm convinced that this is pretty much a pacifier move for the boys who want the feminists to think they allow girls in their club, but don't actually want them to be competitive.

Perspectives and the Dr. Office

So in that great leap of synchronicity that hits me so often, This Post on Shapely Prose and This Post on The Rotund came out just as I actually needed to go to a doctor for the first time in several years because of some internal feminine malfunction (of which I will not be going into details).

My dad is/was the type of person who never actually goes to the doctor unless he needs stitches or cannot possibly deny the fact that he's at risk of dying within 24 hours (i.e. heart attack). My mom has to bully him into regular checkups. I think I inherited a lot of his stance on this. When I do actually have to go to the doctor I tend to do as much research as possible beforehand so that I can walk in and say "I have an ear infection, give me this specific antibiotic." If I think it will pass without treatment or if there's nothing they can do but give me a fancy brand of cough syrup, I don't go. I also (off paper) don't have a specific primary care doctor that I see. Instead I ask for whoever can slot me in after work or on a weekend in the group of doctors that work at that office.

Maybe it's fear of fat-hate, and there are probably some vestiges of that somewhere in the mental process. But if I really examine it, I find my aversion to doctors and checkups has more to do with my being a fiercely private person. I don't like the idea of a single person knowing so much about me. I don't generally discuss my health issues with friends and family, so why should I let a stranger have all this private data and such very personal access to me?

So I hadn't been to a doctor in a year or two and hadn't had my girly bits examined in about six years since I went off birth control (bad reaction to it). In the meantime, I've discovered FA, and read the stories at First Do No Harm. The stories of fat women being humiliated, harassed, or refused treatment when seeking care are horrific. The reluctance to open private matters to a stranger became a solid gripping fear that I would undergo an ordeal of hate and disgust for daring to demand medical care as a fat person. Unfortunately, my internal organs decided to not allow me a choice.

That's when I learned a much-needed perspective. The horror stories of fat prejudice in health care are a real problem. They're horrific, outrageous, and call for much-needed correction in the medical industry's treatment of fat people. They are, however, not necessarily the norm.

I'm sure that at some point in my life I will probably experience prejudice from a doctor. For that matter, maybe it is the norm and I'm just extremely lucky. All I know is that after working myself into some serious stress, I had nothing to worry about. I stepped on the scale (digital) and looked away, the PA wrote the number down in my chart without comment or reaction (thinking back, in that office they have never said the number out loud during weigh-in, or commented on it, during any visit!) She and the doctor were both very concerned that I was comfortable, asked good questions, and listened to the answers. When the doctor asked why I was reluctant to get a pap I specifically brought up FA and the fact that so many fat women have bad experiences or are refused examinations by doctors. She was shocked and outraged at the idea and responded that she treats patients, big or small. By her reaction, I'd say that the idea of refusing treatment to anyone or treating them badly because of their weight had never even crossed her mind. Better yet, she never once made any sort of premature "guesstimate" diagnosis or suggested that my weight might be a factor in what was going wrong. She simply ran the gamut of tests (needles...brrr!), warned that if they didn't show anything conclusive I might need more, and made sure I was comfortable every step of the way. I'm going back in little over a week so that she can go over the test results and decide what to do from there. I think I'll wait and see how that goes before I submit her name to the fat-friendly doctors list.

Basically, I went in with an expectation of something to fear that I had greatly exaggerated in my own mind. I think it was a learning experience for me. I need to adjust my perspective to where I don't expect prejudice, since the fear of it will lessen my ability to live and enjoy life, but am aware of prejudice so that when it does occur I can respond appropriately. It's a fine line to walk, but it's the difference between making activism a part of your life and allowing it to take over.

Ot: Earth Hour (for the Chicago readers)

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Earth Hour 2008: Saturday, March 29
On Saturday, March 29, turn out your lights to show your support and commitment toward taking action to combat climate change. Earth Hour started in Sydney, Australia in 2007 and this year cities across the globe, such as Tel Aviv, Bangkok and Copenhagen, are taking action. This year the City of Chicago is partnering with World Wildlife Fund as the U.S. flagship city for Earth Hour. As an environmental leader, Mayor Richard M. Daley is committed to fighting climate change and this year he will launch the Chicago Climate Action Plan as Chicago's roadmap for action. Join City Hall, Chicago area residents, businesses and organizations in this symbolic event to show Chicago's commitment to combating climate change by flipping the switch. Enjoy the skyline as never before when skyscrapers, landmarks and shops along Michigan Avenue go dark.
Details
When: Saturday, March 29
Time: 8:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m.
What: Turn our your lights in support of taking actions to combat climate change
Who: All of Chicago, plus other citizens across the globe
Why: Flip your switch to show your support of climate action
For more information & a video narrated by actor Jeremy Piven: Visit www.earthhourus.org

Clothing Fit: A Rant

Every time the topic of clothing comes up in the fatosphere, there is a response that's beginning (IMO) to fall into a pattern:

1. No one can find affordable clothes that fit short people
2. No one can find affordable clothes that fit short fat people
3. No one can find affordable clothes that fit tall people
4. No one can find affordable clothes that fit tall fat people
5. No one can find affordable clothes that fit long-waisted people
6. No one can find affordable clothes that fit short-waisted people
7. No one can find affordable clothes that fit pear-shaped people
8. No one can find affordable clothes that fit apple-shaped people
9. No one can find affordable clothes that fit women with large breasts
10. No one can find affordable clothes that fit women with small breasts

In every case, there's a rant about the designer's assumptions (i.e. that all designers assume fat women are amazons/large-breasted/short legged/big-thighed/small-thighed/etc.

Basically, I'm starting to think that affordable clothing is made to fit mannequins. 5'6" mannequins with socially acceptable proportions. In other words, the reason why it's cheap is because it's mass produced for a median range of height/weight/proportion. If you're outside of that height/weight/proportion, you'll have trouble finding stuff that fits unless you're handy with a needle. It isn't a conspiracy against short/tall/apple/pear/long-legged/small breasted people; anyone outside that median, in any direction, is going to have trouble finding stuff that fits.

Personally? I'm 6'2". I can tell you that affordable clothes are NOT made for "Amazons" (a term I personally hate. Just because I'm tall doesn't mean I want to chop off a breast and go frothing-at-the-mouth into war). Skirts designed for ankle-length hit me at a very unflattering mid-calf. Skirts designed to hit at the knee are, on me, inappropriate for the office. I have a long torso (making the hunt for tunic-length shirts my raison d'etre in shopping). I have a high waist and large belly that turns any empire-waisted top into a "8th month maternity" look (this season's dresses are a nightmare). I have a smaller butt and thighs that means any jeans that fit at the waist will be baggy everywhere else, and solid Viking-peasantry calves that mean I have to look for boot cut or flare jeans (which works, since I'm a hippie at heart). My longer arms mean that there is no such thing as long-sleeve shirts or jackets; they all hit behind the wrist, and so get shortened to 3/4 sleeves so that it at least looks deliberate.

I'm also definitely not rich. My definition of affordable clothing is no single piece over $20, and hunt the clearance racks for those great "under $10" finds. Given that, and that I do have reasonably good taste, I have two options; make with the needle and look for the stuff that's on clearance because of fixable issues (i.e. that awful neon shirt is a good cut and can be dyed darker; that fringe can be removed; that collar can be altered; that skirt can be sized down).

Yeah, that's work. But I'm not a clothes-hound and don't buy "trendy" stuff that won't be viable in a few years. I could probably afford (a piece at a time) to build a really kickass wardrobe from Igigi or something, but beyond the fact that empire waists are popular at the moment (grit teeth and wait it out) I have much better things to spend $100 on than a piece of clothing. I could landscape my front yard or finish my attic or tile my kitchen and bathroom for what they charge for a dress. For two outfits I could buy a close-contact saddle or a nice sheepskin saddle pad. That kickass wardrobe would buy me floor-to-ceiling bookcases for my increasingly enormous epidemic collection of books.

The point? Don't assume that anyone (taller, shorter, thinner, fatter, etc.) has an easier time finding clothing to fit their own style. I have one friend who's a size 10 with perfect classical proportions that looks really good in a lot of cuts and styles that I'd love to wear. Despite that, I still see her get frustrated over clothes outside her size range, or designed for women without hips, or that end up too baggy in the bustline. Everyone has trouble finding clothes that fit and look good on them, because everyone looks good in something different. Don't expect every brand to cater to you; the Old Navy stuff that you complain is cut too long is a blessing for those of us that need it and can't find it anywhere else. The Lane Bryant dress shirts that are way too short on me would look really sharp on a woman with a shorter waist. Until I can afford a private tailor, I'll have to learn to compromise.

And learn to not grit my teeth when someone complains how the "amazons" have it so easy in the fashion world.

I really do hate that term. Why not Valkyries? I'm Irish, not Brazilian. Or Leprechauns? ("and was that not the biggest joke of the Irish, for the leprechauns in their day were the tallest of the mound folk" -American Gods)

Intuitive (Curry) Eating

Happiness is a warm bowl of Paneer Makhani over Basmati rice.

The Indian grocery that just opened up in town is giving me a renewed determination to rein in my finances by making time to prepare food on a regular basis instead of my current trend of "oh crap I hit the snooze, now I'll have to buy something on the way to work and get take-out for lunch again."

I'm a complete neophyte to Intuitive Eating as yet, but I'm just starting to get past the place where I crave everything I denied myself while dieting. My body is finally catching on that I can eat anything I want (budget willing) whenever I want, and that there's really no value judgement on food. I can feel it starting to trust me that this isn't just another breather between diets, so I don't have to hurry up and eat everything "while I still can." It will be there when I actually want it, whether that's the next day, or sometime next month. For those of you who've been doing this for a while, bear with me and try not to smirk, it's still quite a groundbreaking experiment for my personal perspective :-)

Anyway, I found these great little meals at the Indian grocery. They're foil pouches full of preservative-free vegetarian curry dishes (mostly paneer or lentil-based). I can keep a bunch in my desk drawer, bring in a bowl of rice, and have whatever I feel like for lunch as determined at lunchtime instead of the day or weekend before. Since Indian food runs the gamut of sweet, spicy, hot, mild, etc., there's a good chance that I won't be driven screaming from the office by the thought of yet another slightly soppy sandwich packed two days beforehand when I happened to have actual free time at home. I'm not somebody who can stick to a steady routine without going a little insane, so the whole "make up a bunch of meals on the weekend and split into servings" thing has never worked for me. I'll cook up something I'm craving on Sunday (provided I actually have free hours to cook on a weekend) only to be nauseatingly sick of it by Wednesday. At which point I'll throw it away and go get Chinese, blowing my restaurant budget for the week instead of saving it for when I get together with friends on the weekend.

I want to do some landscaping this summer, but the cost can only come from what I can save out of my grocery budget and whatever I can e-bay. I went cautiously crazy in this new store today and bought a week's worth of meals for about $30. They keep their prices surprisingly reasonable, which means they're actually catering to the (quite large) Hindu population in the area, rather than the yuppies. Sure, you can get pre-packaged curry lunches at Sawall's super-elitist eco store for eight bucks. I'd rather pay $1.99 and not have to cover the cost of their entire aisle of trendy exotic bottled waters. I mean, what's up with an eco-store selling plastic bottled water anyway? Even at $5 a pint? Freakin hypocrites.

(Their bulk spices are pretty good, I'll grudgingly admit. It's not like I can find mugwort at Wal-mart.)

It's strange how much easier it is to tackle my budget woes without having a diet on my plate (so to speak) at the same time. It also helps that I quit smoking before I concentrated all my energy on my spending habits. It's interesting to see how the different forms of consumption interact. I used to find that out of the three (diet, spending, smoking) I had about enough mental focus to really tackle one at a time. Which meant I could always use running out of money as a handy excuse for why my diets ultimately failed. Once I take dieting and smoking out of the picture, I might actually get my spending under control and start chipping at the credit cards.

And I didn't even think to look at calories on anything. Not by force of will, but it never even occurred to me. I went by "that looks good" and a brief scan of ingredients to eliminate anything with too much anise (yech.) How much simpler it is to not have to work to get the most bulk for a set amount of calories, but instead just think "garlic and green chilis...yep, that's perfect for the office; I won't have to talk to anyone for hours after lunch." There's the perk also of no one giving me grief for not eating in the breakroom (i.e. bumping elbows with a crowd of people going into gory details of their childrens' pooping habits and whatever sports team currently sucks.) After one sniff of green curry fresh from the microwave they might just beg me to be anti-social :-)

The Fat Hate Experiment

What would you do?

ABC News put together a social experiment with telling results. A fat actress sat on a boardwalk bench while two thin actresses in bikinis verbally harassed her. The experiment was intended to see how many people stopped to help.

According to the article, only 5 out of the 60 people they determined had noticed the altercation were willing to stop and speak up. One passerby missed a great opportunity to set a good example for her kids when she just hurried them past the scene without a word.

They mixed up the experiment by making the aggressive abusers male instead of female to see if that would increase the number of people willing to stop and help. The article doesn't give a number, but did mention a few cases where people (mostly women) ignored the perceived threat to themselves to step in. Two even stepped between the victim and her attackers and called the police.

So there are several questions that come up for me in trying to analyze this experiment. Is it a fat issue, or an issue of no one ever wanting to get involved in someone else's trouble? Would the results change if the victim were a man? a teenager? What if the aggressor and victim appeared to be a married couple or a parent/child? Why were women so much more likely to step in, even if they felt physically threatened? Also, what would I do?

I would LOVE to organize a continuation where different factors are changed up to see if the results change depending on the gender, weight, age, and race of the victim and aggressors; the nature of the taunts (i.e. sexual harassment or racism) to see if the experiment reflects sizism or a simple reluctance to get involved regardless of the nature of the altercation; the geographical location (i.e. if people react differently in San Francisco than they would in Chicago), etc. Oh, for a PhD in sociology to give me research funding....

The day must have been a special kind of hell for the fat actress playing the victim. I hope ABC springs for a weekend at the spa or something to make up for it! Kudos to ABC, by the way, for tackling this rarely mentioned issue head on!

They're broadcasting the story on "Primetime" at 10 p.m. ET

Scottish social workers threaten to take fat children from the home

Social workers in Dundee Scotland have given a family a three-week deadline for their children to lose weight or be removed from the home. According to an article in The Scotsman, the family has been ordered to send the children to dance and football (U.S. soccer) lessons, at their own expense, or lose the children. Another parent in the same city is threatened with the same.

The children's weights are given in stone (1 stone=14 lbs in U.S.) but not their heights.

The article gives the usual rundown of the "epidemic," citing Scotland as the second fattest country after the U.S. (oh those crazy Americans...) They even claim that it "has already forced some as young as 13 to seek NHS weight-loss surgery. "

Yup, 13 year olds getting their stomach stapled. That sounds like a good idea. Can't see anything going wrong with that plan.

These statistical claims actually confuse "fattest country" and "country most obsessed with fat". The WHO (which has it's own particular conflict of interest issues when it comes to fat) puts the U.S. at number 9, after Nauru, Federated States of Micronesia, Cook Islands, Tonga, Niue, Samoa, Palau, and Kuwait. Hmmm...that means that the fattest countries are in Southeast Asia....but hey, that can't possibly mean that there are racial and genetic components to weight. As one of the comments on The Scotsman article put it:

"Nazi Social worker: I see that your child falls outwith the Normal spectrum
Poor Parent: What's the normal spectrum?
Nazi Social worker: We have compiled a normal range by measuring Arian type people. On average your child must be blonde, blue eyed, 6ft tall and have a BMI of 25 or under. I'm afraid your child doesn't conform, we must take him away for "correction".
Poor Parent: Um, we're of Afro-Caribbean stock. Good luck with that...."

Read the rest of the comments at risk to your own stock of sanity watchers points. I'll sum up: There are some supportive, a lot of "this is none of the government's business," one that suggests fat people eat puppies, and a lot of misguided "caring" people who think this is excessive, but still thinks the children should be put on diets.

Friday Fluff: Candied Rose Cookies

The news feeds are pretty dead on this spring equinox morning, and the newscasters are calling for up to a foot of snow on the heels of the white rabbit and it's odd habit of laying eggs.

So as a reminder that it really is spring (no, really! Ignore the coat of frost on your car this morning and the blizzard this afternoon...) I've decided to post a recipe that I consider summertime aromatherapy for your mouth.

Quite a few flowers are edible, which is why they're used so often as garnish. I'm considering picking up an ice-cream maker one of these summers in order to experiment with jasmine or lavender sorbet. I've found recipes for marigold iced tea, stuffed squash blossoms, and violet punch over the years and have been intrigued enough to want to try them.

The cautions in using flowers to cook with are that you must be sure that the particular flower is edible. Some hybrids become toxic where their natural counterpart was edible, and vice-versa. You must also know the origins of that particular plant. Nurseries and flower shops generally sell hothouse flowers sprayed with pesticides and fertilizers that were never intended for food crops. If you can find a small home-town nursery that's willing to swear blue that they only use organic fertilizers and no pesticides, that may be a safe place to obtain plants. Trusted friends might also be willing to let you use their organic cutting-gardens for the kitchen (especially if you share!). roadside stands and farmers' markets are often a good source, but be sure to particularly ask about chemicals. The best sources, of course, would be your own garden or a store that sells flowers specifically for eating. Try the specialty international stores. The Indian Grocery store in town sells rose water and orange blossom water. So does the health food store, although you should make sure it's edible-grade and not just for cosmetics.

Another consideration is that since flowers aren't a regular food for most people, you must be sure to use caution when it comes to allergies. If you're allergic to ragweed, for instance, avoid chamomile as they're in the same family. Start small with only a few petals at a time before making an entire salad, and pay attention to your body's reaction.

Also, too much of any flower can make you sick, due to generally increased alkaloids or acids. Don't make an entire salad or meal from flowers. They're intended to be accents and garnishes, not a main dish. Some, like squash blossoms and okra, can work well in quantity, but not all. Some flowers have medicinal properties, in which case they should be used sparingly or not at all. St. John's Wort, for instance, can interfere with heart medication. The name of the game is research, just like when introducing any exotic ingredient into your cooking.

These rose cookies are best to start the day before you need them so they can chill/dry overnight or more before baking.

For the cookies, you'll need:

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened (not melted)
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 1/2 cups flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp rose water
2 cookie sheets covered with parchment paper (baking section of grocery store)

Extra sugar (for rolling)

For the candied rose petals you'll need:

1 red rose (at least 30 petals, pesticide/fertilizer free)
1 egg white
1/4 tsp rose water
1/2 cup super-fine sugar (really fine cane sugar works well)
wax paper over a rack or cookie sheet
watercolor paintbrush (invest in a nice one that won't shed bristles in your food!)
tweezers


DAY 1:

With electric mixer, beat the softened butter until creamy. Add sugar and continue to beat until creamy again. Add egg, vanilla and rose water, continuing to beat.

Turn the mixer down to the lowest setting and add flour and salt. Scrape down the sides as you mix so that everything is incorporated. Cover the dough tightly with plastic wrap so as to prevent air from drying it out, and put in the fridge. This will need to chill for 2-3 hours at least, but since the rose petals will need a day to dry, best to just leave it in the fridge overnight.

To make the petals:

pour a layer of sugar in the bottom of a bowl
beat the egg white with the rose water until just frothy
remove the petals from the rose, and carefully remove the white part of the petal near the base (it tastes bitter)
Using the tweezers, dip the petal into the egg white. If it doesn't coat completely or coats in more than a thin layer, use the paintbrush to even it out. You're not "battering" the petal, just providing a very light layer of glue for the sugar.
Hold the petal over the sugar bowl with the tweezers, and sprinkle a pinch of sugar over each side
lay the petals in a single layer on the wax paper to dry
let them sit for 12-36 hours to dry completely, then they can be stored up to a few days in an airtight container.


DAY 2:

Make sure the rose petals are dry! If not, put them in the oven at about 175 degrees F for an hour or until dry.

Pre-heat the oven to 350 F
Pour a layer of sugar on a plate or bowl, at least 1/2 inch thick
break off chunks of dough about 1-2 tablespoons and roll in your hands to form a ball. Drop it in the sugar and roll it to coat.
Use the bottom of a small glass (shot glass or wineglass with a small base) to flatten the center of the cookie.
lay a candied rose petal in this flat area, pressing it gently into the dough
lay the cookie on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper
repeat until sheets are full, leaving a 1" gap between cookies

Bake at 350 F for about 15 minutes, checking after 12 minutes to watch for color change. They should be slightly darker than the dough, but not browned around the edges. For a more even bake (unless you have a super-fancy oven, which I shall hypnotize you into giving to me) turn the sheets around half-way through baking to bring the back rows to the front.

Transfer to a cooling rack, or loosen from the parchment to keep from sticking.

These can be kept in the fridge for up to a week, although they serve best at room temperature so you don't get that "solid butter" aftertaste.

If your mother /grandmother isn't a chronic dieter, this makes a great mother's-day present. Especially if you're short on funds.

Arts reporter calls foul on sizist audiences

In Washington DC's Metro Weekly today, Opera reviewer Kate Wingfield devotes a large part of her review of Washington Opera's "Flying Dutchman" to chastise audiences who feel it's all right to be rude to fat performers. She makes an interesting comparison between the behaviour of the supposed adults attending the opera to that of unruly pre-teens interrupting a school play to bully the fat kid in the lead.

My favorite bit of the article:

"How could such crass behavior occur in a crowd paying top-dollar to hear a Wagnerian soprano? Did these ladies and gentlemen forget they were at a live performance, so accustomed are they to gossiping about each other over lunch? Did they just not care? Could they be so saturated with Eddie Murphy's Norbit fat-jokes and the over-plucked glistening flesh paraded before The Bachelor as to have become mere snuffling moles, utterly blind to true human beauty? Perhaps the requisite hush would have prevailed if it were Spitzer's call-girl in the role. She claims to be a singer, after all. "

Buono detta, Ms. Wingfield! Bravissima :-)

Can you imagine a reviewer suggesting that Pavarotti would be a much better singer if he just tried Atkins? Opera has always been the one place where talent trumped any social judgement of appearance. That's how it appeared from the cheap seats, anyhow. Could it be that the new digital standard of preference perfection is changing that? Could live performance art be shuffled out to make way for not-so-cheap imitation?

Personally, I think perfect digital sound is impressive in it's own way. But I've never heard a piece of digital music that has impressed or moved me to the degree a skilled live performance is capable of. I'll always choose a movie with good acting over one with digital effects, and I'll always choose music with real voices and instruments over the bland and soulless midi sound. That's just me. Maybe for the rest of the world, one can never be skilled enough to appeal without also being a piece of "over-plucked glistening flesh" made industry standard.

RIP Sir Arthur C. Clarke

Sir Arthur C. Clarke, scientist and author of over 100 novels and short stories (including "Sentinel," which became the movie 2001: a Space Odessey) died yesterday at his home in Sri Lanka at the age of 90.

He was famous for his visions of the future, of which many came to be. He was one of the first to work out geosynchronous orbits for communication satellites, dreamed of such (then) improbable ideas as what is now called the Internet and cell phones, and predicted a man on the moon by 1970. He's also famous for his "Three Laws:"

1. When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.

2. The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.

3. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

He posted a farewell message to fans and family earlier this year on Youtube.

The Myth of the Good Fatty

I've put a lot of energy into disputing the "good fatty/bad fatty" assumption, which as Shapely Prose and Babble have pointed out this week, may be an unnecessary (yet self-fulfilling) battle. So why do we preemptorily attack the assumption that only disease-free fat people who eat right and exercise are deserving of respect?

Well, I can only answer that in the royal "we" as I can't speak for anyone else. But a little self-examination into whether the lady doth protest too much brings up a few possibilities.

Mainly doubt.

I've never been a believer in anything, and often doubt (politely) fervent belief in others. If real belief was so common, martyrs would not be so rare as to qualify one for sainthood. That's not to say I don't embrace knowledge as such, but I do differentiate between knowledge (a concept held in the mind) and belief (knowledge assimilated on the subconscious, instinctive, "gut" level). The latter becomes part of a person's paradigm, against which all new ideas are measured for truth without a conscious process. Until that happens, knowledge held in the mind is subjected constantly to doubt as it is "tried on for fit" against the existing paradigm. During that process, the person is likely to defend against the doubt originating in their own minds by asserting the idea to others. The stronger the doubt (or the more the person is dependent on the idea for self-definition), the more vocal and extreme the assertion.

The above has absolutely no basis in actual science. Of course, that's the beauty of belief; it doesn't have to.

So when I take the pains to point out and harangue the dangers of the good/bad fatty comparison, I am probably motivated by doubt. After all, what if I'm not in the right group? What if the good fatties do get all the equal respect and rights, and the remaining scorn is heaped upon the rest of us? What if I do get diabetes and have to transition from the "yeah but I'm fat and healthy" to the much more difficult argument of "yes but it isn't because I'm fat"? Or worse yet, what if I myself fall into the trap of being prejudiced against the fat people who choose to not practice HAES?

The last point is a big one, and hard for anyone to admit. Who wants to acknowledge the potential for miserable ass-hattery within themselves? Of course, acknowledging it is the first step to eliminating it, but that kind of detached self-examination is a difficult thing. Personally I think it's more difficult than a detached look at the physical body.

Then, deep down under all the rest lies the worst layer of doubt undermining the integration of SA and FA into the self: "What if I don't really deserve it?" How many of us have yet to overcome the obstacle of being more willing to stand up for others than for ourselves? Could the Straw Fatty problem be one of feeling as if I, personally, only deserve acceptance if I "follow the rules" of HAES and yet remain fat? Could it be that I think that I can only earn the right to be a human being if I agree to be a poster child?

Yeah, that's absolute crap, and has no basis in fact. That's the downfall of belief; it doesn't have to.

Once an idea is assimilated into your own personal paradigm it becomes a yardstick for every other idea you encounter, regardless of which is actually true. The quaint idea of telling yourself something until you believe it is up against a thousand non-verbal reinforcements of negative self-worth each and every day. What is a mantra, to stand up under that kind of onslaught?

The connecting factor between knowledge and belief is hope. Hope is daring to consider a new idea, even when it contradicts belief. I really, really want to believe in FA, and that gives me hope enough to bridge the gap between the knowledge and the belief. All the studies in the world cannot convince someone against their own will, which is why chronic dieters are so rabid in their opposition.

So, in the meantime, I worry. Not every day, and a little less each day. But there is always that piece of longstanding reinforcement that tells me that I'm not a very good fatty, and therefore am less deserving than those who are. That is the origins of my own straw fatties.

Perhaps when I'm ready I'll have my own personal Burning Man to get rid of them.

And, in the meantime, I read blogs. I post blogs. The doubt occasionally seeps into both reading and writing, twisting words and ideas around little self-hate fingers in my brain. Especially when it's raining. But there are days when I read something that reaches down into the core guts of belief and wraps hope around it like a shiny happy incubator. Everyone has both kind of days, really, even if they never talk about them. In the meantime, when I post thoughts about HAES, health, and other dichotomy-rich topics, remember that these are just ideas being tried on for fit. They might contradict what I posted before. They are often open to challenge through the constant learning process. They may reflect subconscious prejudice, but prejudice can be one of those nebulous things only easily visible in other people, and don't always stand alone as the summary of a complex and evolving being.

I know that a person's health and lifestyle is a very personal issue that is none of my business. I know that skinny people are just as healthy or unhealthy as fat people on the whole, that you can't tell anything about a person by their weight, and that every person has the right to be treated as human regardless of health, size, or lifestyle. I know that HAES is not necessary to FA, nor is it the same for every person, nor is it a fancy sneaky method of dieting. I know it. I'm working on believing it, especially when relating to myself. For now, I know that knowing is the first half of the battle won.

New baby at the stables! (pics)

The woman who owns the horse I'm leasing came back from the Shipshewana horse auction with another rescue! This 4/5 month old colt was in the kill pen with his mother, but he couldn't keep up with her when they put her up on the block. He was initially sold to a meat buyer for $30.


Well she wasn't about to let such a sweet little thing go for dog food, so she hunted down the buyer and offered him $40 for the colt. He accepted!

She thinks he was an Amish horse, because the Amish in the area shave the forlock off their horses along with the bridle path. His mother (not rescued, unfortunately) was a standardbred, and his sire was probably (hopefully) a Belgian, considering the mane and short back. That will make him the perfect horse for a heavy rider in a few years, especially if he grows into those knees!

His name's Lucky, and he's both highly intelligent
(has already learned to open gates, lift his feet when asked, and leads with just a hand on the jaw instead of a halter) and very sweet-tempered. He's a bit nervous and clingy still after being force-weaned at the auction pen, but he's adopted Sunshine (the horse I'm leasing) as a surrogate mom and seems to be very comfortable/trusting of humans.





Speaking of Sunshine, I didn't leave her out of the lens!

This is the Sunshine, the 6 year old Belgian mare I took on a half-lease this month. She's 16 hands and a bit (about 5 1/2 feet tall at the withers/shoulder) and a real sweetheart, even if a bit skittish on the trail (probably just having a new rider).

Her mane's a bit ragged yet, but it's growing back in from when half of it was shaved off last year. I mixed some Jojoba oil and rose water as a detangler and it seems to work very well. Her tail was docked by her first owner (common in draft horses, although extremely cruel!) and might not get much longer than it is now.

When they get the arena finished so that I can safely learn hunt seat (she's too spooky on the trail for me to dare an english saddle) I'm going to see if my photographer friend would be willing to come take a few shots of me riding.

When I got there today, she was loving the spring weather, and tossing a ball back and forth with Belle, the Exmoor pony.

Women declared too fat for police work

An article in South Africa's Daily Dispatch today revealed that more than 10 candidates were turned away from the Mthatha Police College today for being too fat. The women were responding to a recruitment effort by the South African police forces to fill 700 vacancies, but said they were not told about any size requirements for the trainee program until they were weighed and measured as part of their interview:

"She said when they arrived at the college they were told their waists should be no more than 88cm and their body mass below a certain measurement. "

For those who are wondering, 88 centimeters = 34.6 inches.

No fitness tests were mentioned in the article; only weight and waist measurement.

I wonder, really, if this is a not-so-subtle form of de facto racism? By using a BMI standard that was developed in reference to Western European white males and using it to restrict the employment of South African black women, they set an unfair standard. Not to mention that a person's waist circumference has little or nothing to do with their ability to do the job! Not when they could simply offer a fitness/endurance test to screen applicants. They also need to disclose the requirements of the position before applicants show up on their doorstep, so that the applicants can include physical conditioning in their preparations.

As badly as South Africa needs keen, ethical and dedicated officers, it's a wonder that they'd turn away any potential recruits on the authority of a measuring tape.

Lisa Marie Presley sues paper that called her fat

Ok, it's celebrity crap, but apparently calling someone fat can be grounds for a lawsuit.

According to Time, Lisa Marie Presley is suing Britain's Daily Mail for running photos of her eating at a restaurant along with pointed jabs at her weight, comparisons to her father's middle-age weight gain, and hints that she would, like her father, die a early death because of the fat(never mind that her father's death came from tasting the pharmaceutical rainbow.)

Now she's suing the paper, insisting that she's pregnant, not fat, and demanding an apology and damages for the "mental anguish".

Seriously? You can do that? What's the statute of limitations, because we could all retire on the financial support of every high school bully who ever engaged in casual cruelty.

I'm really of two minds on this one as far as reactions go. On one hand it's someone standing up to the media to demand treatment as a human being rather than a sacrifice on the altar of public amusement. On the other hand, by treating fat as a damaging insult, it's further marginalizing fat people and setting up fat as something to be hated and feared. I suppose you could go either way, depending on whether your glass is half full or half empty today. Personally I think the glass is simply twice as large as it needs to be to fulfill it's intended purpose.

I wonder if the glass can sue me for saying so? :-)

Real Women Wanted in British Beauty Contest

This article in the Oxford Mail today was a great start to my Googley Friday morning!

Angie Beasley, the organiser of the Miss England contest, has reminded young women in Oxfordshire that size does not matter when it comes to taking part in the Miss Oxford contest, which is being backed by the Oxford Mail.

The article is about Chloe Marshall, the latest Miss England contestant who's facing down the prejudice of competing in a beauty pageant at size 16 (about a size 14 American) The encouragement from the organizers is heartening in a time when size 0 is still the ideal on the fashion runway.

Don't get me wrong, I personally think beauty contests are silly at best, dehumanizing at worst. But I do respect anyone willing to throw themselves into the fray of any contest where they challenge the status quo. I like people who make other people examine their own assumptions. Especially when they can also serve as a positive role-model for girls when it comes to notions of beauty.

So maybe I'm behind the times on this one, and I'll get a lot of "what rock have you been living under that you haven't heard of Chloe Marshall!?" But even though she's the buzz in England as the largest Miss England contestant, I haven't heard much in the U.S. Especially since I don't really care much about fashion.

It probably won't get me interested in beauty contests in general, but I am curious to hear more about how she gets on and what message she's sending. She's got a Facebook for those who're on it (i.e. who haven't been living under a rock.)

Fat to determine custody or parental fitness?

I normally try not to post two "downers" in a row, but an article in the Canadian National Post on Monday is already old enough that I don't want to pass it up.

"The societal panic over childhood obesity, already entrenched in the medical system and evident in the furor over school lunches, is beginning to influence custody judgments and child-welfare authorities in their decisions about fitness to parent."

A lot of us are familiar with the cases in California in recent years, where a young girl was taken from her mother because she was too fat. In those cases, NAAFA helped advocate for the parents in getting their child returned. In the meantime, apparently, Canada has been busily establishing legal precedents to allow the weight of both child and parent to figure into determinations of parental fitness in custody and adoption battles.

The article mentions an ongoing case in Toronto (the reporter isn't allowed to release details until the case is resolved) where a young girl was removed from her home because the child was fat, and the mother refused to force the girl to diet.

It goes into more detail concerning a pair of fat twins in a custody battle which raged over 8 years. The twins, now 10, have spent nearly their entire lives in hospital-based weight-loss programs. Can you imagine sacrificing a child's entire developmental period to dieting?

That particular case, at least had a mixed happy ending:

The mother, Lisa, argued against the father gaining full custody, saying that his approach to parenting was "his continuous attendances with the children on numerous medical reviews, weigh-ins and the administering of blood tests; combined with his continuous negative references to others and directly to the children that they are overweight, not normal and are ill and in danger of developing certain conditions or diseases."

In the end, the court determined that primary custody should go to the mother, where the children seemed most happy and well-adjusted, while conceding "the weight-management of the children was a problem that needed addressing."

In other words, we haven't seen the last of fat, in either adult or child, as a determining factor in parental fitness and rights. The Ontario Family Court is still deciding whether a child can be removed altogether from her natural parents simply for being fat.

et tu, Eric Oliver?

Reading the latest CBS News Story on Fat out of London today is an extreme experiment in "good cop, bad cop" for readers.

For those of you unfamiliar with the technique (in other words, those of you who've never seen an American television show or movie involving the police), the "bad cop" starts off aggressive in order to attempt to intimidate the suspect. In this case, the bete noir of baby flavoured donuts bludgeons the reader with a one-two combination of visual (a disembodied fat stomach over too-small trousers) and tried-but-untrue fattism:

"Go on, have another doughnut. "

Then the good cop steps in. His job is to befriend the suspect, earn their trust, and invite confidence.

"The obesity epidemic has absolutely been exaggerated," said Dr. Vincent Marks, emeritus professor of clinical biochemistry at the University of Surrey. "

There's some back and forth for a while, with the good cop coming out ahead as Eric Oliver, author of the most excellent "Fat Politics." His book was one of the first I read when I got into FA, so I got ready for the white knight to run to the rescue. Sure enough:

"Blaming obesity for diabetes and heart attacks, Oliver says, is like blaming lung cancer on bad breath rather than on smoking. Excess weight may actually be a red herring, Oliver says, since other factors like exercise, diet or genetic predispositions towards diseases are harder to measure than weight. "

All right! Go Eric Oliver!

It gets even better, of course, now that the good cop is on a roll.

"Yet the 1997 Geneva consultation was held jointly with the International Obesity Task Force, an advocacy group whose self-described mission is "to inform the world about the urgency of the (obesity) problem." According to the task force's most recent available annual report, more than 70 percent of their funding came from Abbott Laboratories and F. Hoffman La-Roche, companies which make top-selling anti-fat pills. "

Finally, a mainstream news source is catching on to the plethora of conflict-of-interest that exists in the world of obesity research. What an excellent bit of fact to cast doubt on the legitimacy of one of the more institutionalized anti-fat organizations. Bravo to CBS for bringing it out into the light of day.

But wait, although 70 percent of the article is pure refreshing gold, the bad cop isn't quite done yet. In a surprise move, the good cop switches roles and leaves the FA reader reeling from the let-down:

""The vast majority of people who get labeled under the obesity epidemic are well under 300 pounds and probably are not facing big health consequences," Oliver said. "It's the morbidly obese people who should be worried." "

This from the author of such a great book on fat bigotry? Ouch.

So sum-up, if you ignore the first two paragraphs and the last two paragraphs, the information in this article is fantastic. Getting through the sanity-watchers barricade to get there, however, is a slog.

Call me pessimistic, or better yet lugubrious (since it's one of my favorite words), but the hasty scramble for legitimization by Eric Oliver in the closing sentence, the rush to assure the reader that he's not talking about the really fat (which, by his definition, includes me), that it's ok to target them with all the institutionalized social hate and government programs as long as you don't hate the middlin' fatties...that's disappointing. I really, really hope he was misquoted or taken out of context. That's always a possibility to keep in mind. I've been horribly misquoted in interviews before, to the point where I had to wince and count to ten before calling the editor. Could Oliver really be suggesting that only "kinda fat" people are really being misrepresented?

Say it ain't so.....

Giving Up the Fantasy (Success!)

For those of you who haven't been following, a few weeks back I posted a blog about my own personal Fantasy of Being Thin. Essentially, along with all the other attributes I as a fat person so commonly associate with the magical state of thinness (poised, confident, successful, admired, talented, fending off the men, etc.) I believed that thinness would automatically open the door to horses again. I grew up with horses, but had to give them up when I went overseas at the end of high school. During those ten years I used the potential to ride again as the prize in my many attempts at weight loss, with 240 pounds as the final goal. That's the weight limit at most commercial riding stables, so it became that magic number at which everything became possible. I don't think I ever had any illusions about reaching the "medically acceptable" weight range of 160-180; I'm 6'2" and a genotype formed from a very long line of sturdy Irish peasant women and Viking invaders. It would take an actual terminal illness to get me to 180 pounds. 240 sounded possible and reachable, even though the set point my body has naturally settle to throughout my life has been just over 300 pounds. So I worked, and failed, and put everything in my life on hold until I hit the magic number, with horses as a carrot to keep me on track.

Then I found FA, thanks to my Tante' (aunt) who invited me to NAAFA. Then I found the Fatosphere, thanks to Google. Then I read this post. Then I cried a bit :-)

Then it occurred to me that regardless of what people thought of me while I was riding or how ridiculous I looked trying to mount, there were quite a few horses out there I could ride. As the draft horse has disappeared from modern farms, those who love the breeds have trained them to saddle instead. So I steeled myself against the potential for nasty responses, put an ad up on Craig's List and started calling farms.

Last week I posted an update when a woman contacted me with a beautiful Belgian mare available for half-lease. She's a rescue from the kill pen at the Shipshewana horse auctions who's been trained up into a great saddle horse, and more than able to carry me.

Yesterday I went out to meet them both. We took a short trail ride to try her out and I made an idiot of myself trying to scramble onto an 16 hand Belgian after not mounting a horse for 10 years (finally used her deck to get high enough so I wouldn't yank the saddle around on the poor girl's back). She was a bit jumpy, whether from not being ridden for a month, the wind, or just having an unfamiliar rider on her back. She shied a few times at barking dogs and the apparently horse-eating squirrels running across the road (and completely spooked once at a wild, horse-eating puddle that the wind rippled while we were passing) but I managed to stay on and kept my balance until she collected herself.

The biggest challenge was that she was trained in English aids, and I was trained in Western. This led to some confusion for the both of us, since my instinctive movements were a little contradictory to the poor horse and we didn't exactly keep a straight line down the road. It's something I have to work on, and thankfully she seems to have a really forgiving personality.

So, yes, I made the first month's payment, and only have to call ahead whenever I want to ride. I was impressed that she had a lease agreement ready, along with very clear barn rules, helmet rules, liability waiver, etc. It's really encouraging. The barn is one of those beautiful antique two-story barns with hand-hewn rafter logs I've always wanted to see the inside of, so that's a perk. I might invest in a tall mounting block to keep there so I don't have to bring the horse up to the deck each time. I also need to keep up on my Yoga, and maybe add Pilates. I'm taking note of all the places that hurt this morning, so I know which muscles to work on and stretch out for the future.

I can't believe such a great horse was in the kill pen ready to be auctioned off for meat. She's only 5 years old, very friendly, doesn't bite or kick, and I'm sure that once she learns to trust me as a rider she won't be inclined to spook. It really makes me wonder how many other neglected horses go straight to dog food without ever being given a chance. How many champion show horses or just really good trail horses are funneled quietly through the kill pen?

I'm also a little surprised at how easily it was all accomplished once I put my mind to it and just put the calls out there. Of course I feel a bit foolish for putting it off for so long, but I'm sure that where I am in my life is eactly the point where I needed this and will benefit the most from it. That's really how life operates :-)

The overall point is that no one should put off anything they want to do in life in anticipation of some distant goal. Especially when that goal involves a radical change in your physical body. I know that you've been trained most of your life to believe that you don't deserve to have fun, be successful, find joy in movement, or live your life as you see fit. Not when your very body is condemned as a moral failing by the modern church of the fashionably thin. Buying into that condemnation is a prison sentence; you are handing authority over your own body, mind and spirit to those who have the least vested interest in preserving it. You are quite possibly the only person in the world who will ever be able to care for your yourself to the degree you deserve as a human being, or really know what will make you happy. Never lose an opportunity to embrace something that will add to your well-being. No one knows how long they have in the world, and there's no reason to ever avoid something you love simply because of our society's distorted concept of appropriateness when it comes to fat people. Your body is what it is, but you'd be surprised at what it is actually capable of when you learn to trust it and take the risk of putting your own happiness ahead of other people's opinions.

Recipe Box: Rice Pudding

Friday fluff on this oh-so-cold December day.

Wait, it's February? huh. Couldn't really tell with the freakin' blizzard going on outside the window...

So to celebrate the never-ending dump of snow that's currently attempting to bury my car, I'm offering up a specimen of the dreaded "white foods" category. Rice pudding is the ultimate simple comfort food. I can remember my mother making it when we were sick, so it has warm-cozy associations for me. It's very mild, so it can finish off almost any meal, but very filling so a little goes a long way. It can be served warm or cold, and is almost as good either way. I'll work on developing a vegan version using soy milk and tofu, but if anyone beats me to it feel free to share!

Ingredients:

3 cups milk (whole milk will make it richer)
1 cup sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup raisins (optional, and mix up with dates, almonds, pecans, and/or coconut as it suits you)
1/3 cup butter
3 eggs, beaten
1/4 cup white sugar
1/2 cup raw white rice
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp (approx) nutmeg, or one whole nutmeg for grating.

(mmm....freshly grated nutmeg......)

Combine rice with 2 cups of regular milk in the top of a double-boiler or in a microwave-safe bowl. Cook over hot water in double-boiler or in microwave on high until rice is tender (approx 30-45 minutes, could be longer depending on heat).

Add raisins/dates/nuts/etc. and butter, stir until butter melts

Combine eggs, sugar, vanilla, salt, cinnamon, 1 cup of regular milk and sweetened condensed milk and whisk until blended.

Stir into hot rice mixture.

Pour into greased cake pan (9" square pan for single batch, 9"x12" rectangle for double batch) or 2-quart casserole dish (uncovered).

Sprinkle or grate nutmeg over top

Bake in 350 F oven for 45 minutes or until a butter knife inserted in the center comes out clean.

Let cool/set up for about 10 minutes and serve warm, or chill in refrigerator and serve cold. This recipe can be fancied-up by serving in individual wine glasses, or even baked in individual ramekins. It's a common dessert to serve with Indian food, and finishes almost any spicy meal well. Like I said, it's filling. Last time I made a single batch it fed about 8 people with a bowl or so left over. Then again, the leftovers are oh-so-good.

Giving Up the Fantasy (update)

I got a lot of positive responses on my post about giving up the fantasy of being thin, and all the procrastination of pleasure that comes with it. Sure, I got some hate mail as well, including one person who actually followed the link to my Craig's list ad so that he could toss bile from several directions at once. But overall I received a lot of encouragement from family, friends and readers.


My main dream was/is to find a place to go horseback riding that had a saddle-trained draft horse. I contacted one stable who's (very nice) owner regretfully didn't have any of her Irish Drafts ready for anything but an expert rider. Since I haven't ridden in 10 years, I have to consider myself back near beginner status. She did offer to let me come out and do ground work around the horses (walk-outs, lunging, assisting the trainer, etc.) until I "lost enough weight" to ride one of the other breeds, at which point I had to (politely) adjust her notions of my intentions. She really was very sweet, despite the misunderstanding, and tried hard to find one of her owners who would let me ride. Nevertheless, the setback did discourage me for a while and I stopped calling stables.


Then, out of the blue and after a long stressful weekend vending at Convocation, I got an e-mail response to my Craig's List post from a woman who ran a horse rescue about a 1/2 hour away, and was looking to lease her Belgian mare. I'd never heard of leasing a horse, but the arrangement sounds perfect. She'd board the horse, take care of all the bills, provide Western and English tack, cart and harness in case I want to learn to drive, provide a few lessons, invite me along with her group on camping trips and trail rides, etc. I would, with exception of a weekend each month when she camps and a few days when she's needed for lessons, be able to come out and ride.


How perfect is that, and just when I'd started to consider giving up? Better yet, after some Googling I found that the woman takes in rescued horses whenever there's room from boarding. The Belgian mare I want to lease is a rescue from the kill pen at the Shipshewana horse auction (bid out from under the nose of the meat buyers and re-trained to saddle and harness). So not only have I maybe found a place to ride, but I might be able to talk her into letting me help work with the rescues when they come in.


I'll have more definite details on Sunday after I go to meet the horse and family, so until then I'm not counting this as a done deal. She still has to approve my leasing her favorite horse! She seems really nice from her posts in horse forums though, so I hope the deal works out. Even if I have to give up on some other projects to afford it. For this dream, I'd give up quite a bit!

Hiatus

Sorry about the lack of posts, but the lull will continue through next Monday as I've been filling every spare second getting ready to vend at Convocation this weekend. Now that I'm staring down a marathon list of things to get done before 9:00 am tomorrow morning, I realize that this whole "I work better under last-minute pressure so I'll start a new series of watercolor wall hangings four days before the event" plan was a bit over-the-top. Hopefully at least one of them will sell. Now I just need to unpack all the totes from previous events, re-pack just the stuff to sell at Convocation, finish edging the last wall hanging, make a booth sign, re-grind the sea salt that solidified in the packets (note to self, do not store wares in garage), decide how much of the palm oil and Shea butter is salvageable for sale (see previous note to self), make 20 new lip balms, do two loads of laundry, pack my actual suitcase, decide if it's worth bothering to bring the knee-high leather stiletto boots, find the knee-high leather stiletto boots, replace one of the laces on the the knee-high leather stiletto boots, clean out the car, pack the car, pick up change for the booth and change the cats' litter boxes...all between 5:30 pm tonight and 9:00 am tomorrow morning.

I knew I should have taken today off.

Recipe Box: Banana Bread (and Banana Bread French Toast)

This past weekend there were twelve of us snowed in together, and just before the storm got too bad to venture out, we got a mutual craving for banana cream pie. We sent the guys out in the four wheel drive for ingredients and they brought back two bunches of bananas from the "last day" produce clearance rack. That was twice as many as I needed for the pies, even when feeding twelve people, and they were so ripe (just turning brown) that I knew they would be tossed the next day. So there was nothing to do but turn them into bread (yeah, banana bread, twist my arm, right?)

The best part about making up a big batch of banana bread is that there's rarely any leftovers. Make small loaves and freeze them, then just leave them out on the counter overnight to thaw. Also, homemade banana bread can be turned into the most decadent, luscious french toast ever created.

The bread is a recipe from my family cookbook, which my mom transcribed onto note cards for my brother and I. I remember the original book from when I was a little kid, and how our "favorites" at dinner or holidays always involved the first step of pulling out "The Cookbook". A veritable witch's scrapbook, the recipes were scrawled out in the handwriting of three generations of mothers and sisters, and stained with decades of chocolatey fingerprints and smudges of flour. The cover bulged over too many pages and slips and crumbling bits of old scotch tape holding together magazine clippings. The recipes were designed for creative people, with terms like "a chunk of butter" a "dash of salt" or "a zap of water," in place of measurements and a lot of ingredient amounts listed as "to taste". It included booby traps like not mentioning if the brown sugar was measured packed or loose (which led to the great "better than meth" sweet potato sugar junkie disaster of 2003) and left out some unwritten secrets like how the roux turns that perfect beach-sand brown and feels like liquid velvet when it peaks. It really felt like each recipe's author assumed she'd be standing over your shoulder, guiding your hand, with the recipe as nothing more than a quick reference. Or else that a few tablespoons here or there didn't really matter, because if it didn't turn out, you could just make it again. Yeah, remember when people were allowed mistakes? Better yet, develop your own twist to the classic recipe and write it down on your very own page, to pass on to another generation.

Banana Bread (ingredients per loaf):

3 bananas, the riper the better (look for brown and nearly black patches on the peel, but not yet split or slimy. The inside should be really soft, past the good eating point, but not yet black)
1/2 cup shortening
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar (lightly packed)
1/2 cup apple sauce
3 eggs, well beaten
2 1/4 cups flour (sifted)
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp baking soda mixed into 1 Tablespoon hot water (hot tap-not boiling)
Handful of pecan or walnut pieces to taste (about a cup) (optional) (and/or raisins, dates, whatever floats your boat.)
1 8"x4" loaf pan (regular dull metal. If using glass, dark metal or non-stick, the cooking time may be reduced about 5-10 minutes, check the loaf carefully)
2 mixing bowls

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit

grease loaf pan with butter or shortening
Cream sugars and shortening together
Beat eggs and applesauce into mixture
Set aside
In second bowl, combine flour, baking powder, nuts (optional), salt and spices
Mix well.
Add the two bowls together, mix only until everything is even and moist, don't over-mix.
In now-empty bowl, crush bananas so that no large chunks are left.
Stir baking soda into hot water (if you haven't already), and add to bananas. Mix well.
Add bananas to the rest of the batter.

Stir as little as possible, but just enough to evenly distribute.
Pour batter into loaf pan. It doesn't rise much, so you can generally fill the loaf pan up to 1 inch from the top.
Bake at 350 F for one hour, or until the top of the loaf splits and browns, and a toothpick inserted into the loaf comes out clean.

Allow to cool in pan. Serve warm or room temperature. It'll keep fresh on the counter for a couple days in a plastic bag, or in the fridge for about a week. Freeze if storing longer.

If you're freezing, allow to cool completely to room temperature. If necessary, place in plastic zipper bag and leave out on the counter overnight. When completely cool, wrap individual loaf tightly in plastic wrap (no air), then in aluminum foil. They should keep like that up to 6 months. Thaw at room temperature.

To make Banana-Bread french toast:

Cut bread into 1/2 inch slices
In flat bowl or pie plate, mix:
3 eggs
1/4 cup sweetened condensed milk (can substitute 1/2 cup milk and 2 tsp sugar)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
pinch of nutmeg
pinch of cinnamon

Melt 1 tsp butter in pan or on griddle on medium heat

dip banana bread slices in mixture to coat both sides (don't let them soak or they'll fall apart)
place coated pieces in pan, fry until brown on both sides

serve plain, dusted with powdered sugar, with sliced bananas and whipped cream or chocolate drizzle, rum sauce, syrup, or whatever your imagination suggests.


Yeah, ok, it's more dessert than breakfast :-)

"Biggest Loser" at my office

A carry-over from my forum post at Big Bat Blog, where I got a few good responses that confirm that, no, I'm not just being oversensitive. I got this mass-mail yesterday from my boss, sent to everyone in the office:

****************************************

>>> (my boss's name removed) 2/13/2008 1:23 PM >>>
What is your goal?

$10/participant, we will weigh in on Tuesdays or Thursdays, so (name removed)
can be the official weigher. Each person will state their weight loss
goal. The contest will be based on the percentage of your goal by the
week. The participant that loses the highest percentage of their goal
will get a prize. Length of the contest will be determined by the number
of participants and $ collected.

Your goal should be reasonable for the period of the challenge, i.e. if
the contest is 10 weeks, a 50 pound goal is unreasonable. Once you
have attained your stated goal, you are out of the contest.

If you are interested, please contact (name removed) by noon
on Tuesday, Feb. 19. Weigh-in will be Tuesday afternoon.

*****************************
I responded to just to her and the employees named in the e-mail as participating, with some dieting facts (98% failure rate, fitness more important than/unrelated to fat, ED triggered by diet, dieters gain more weight than non-dieters, yo-yo weight loss terrible for your body, HAES, etc.) Now my boss is a very nice, normally highly intelligent woman whom I respect very much. In this particular case, it was like my words were being tossed into a black hole. She says that she herself needs to "lose a few pounds" (this is a healthy, tall older woman, about a size 8 or 10 at most) because of her blood pressure and asthma. Did I miss the one where fat causes asthma? How silly!

I'm not getting through. In the meantime the next 2-3 months in my office is going to be miserable. I'm a receptionist stuck at the desk so there's no way to walk away from the diet talk. Maybe I can at least find a way to stay off the mass-mail list where everyone updates each other on how successfully they're starving themselves. I'm also tempted to make a whole lot of really fabulous-smelling lunches, like my beer-braised pot roast or chicken mole, and leave lots of baked goods around the break room, just as a protest. Is that too mean? I could settle for leaving HAES and FA brochures. Anyone have recommendations for the best ones?

A letter to myself at 14

I'm copying an idea that's been making the blog rounds, prompted originally by a post at Big Fat Deal, where a 14 year old girl asks for advice on how to like herself. That set off a round of bloggers writing themselves letters they wish they'd had when they were 14.

Personally, I've always tried to live without regrets, because changing any decision earlier in my life would change who and where I am today. I rather like who and where I am today. Some of the biggest mistakes in my life, if avoided, would cost me my current best friends, whom I met through those mistakes.

Still, there's a few things I wish someone I could trust had told me. Considering that at 14 I didn't believe I actually could trust anyone else, I'm the only one who could have made a difference.

Dear me at 14:

You’re about to start High School, and it’s going to suck even worse than junior high. I’m not going to help you avoid a lot of the bad stuff coming up, because it makes you who you are as an adult. Try to make good choices, stay honest (you never were a good liar and have a highly developed guilt reflex, so don’t bother), stick by your friends, and try new things with the understanding that any embarrassment won’t be remembered by anyone else after you graduate.

Also:

People are cruel. Guys are asses, chicks are bitches. In general. Don’t become them. All you can do is sort out the exceptions. Only surround yourself with people you trust, and then prove yourself trustworthy to them in return. That second part is the most important. Your closest friends right now are the ones who will stick with you if you let them. It’s you that’ll screw things up by driving them away so that you don’t have a best friend to leave behind and miss when you go on your exchange tour. You won’t realize that’s what you’re doing until Matt points it out to you. He’ll be right, but too late. Always remember your responsibility to those who give you their trust.

You’re fat. See the above about asses and bitches. Your body is the result of a hundred generations of Vikings and sturdy Irish peasantry. There is nothing you can do to change it… not by dieting, exercise, dressing differently, not eating, eating too much, cutting, closing yourself off to the world and pushing it away, or sticking pins into poppets. You’re stuck where you are. Once you stop focusing on your fat and look elsewhere the world becomes much more interesting.

While you’re working so hard to turn the outside into something it can’t ever be the inside is being neglected. Figure out what you really want. It isn’t to be thin; it’s all the things you associate with being thin (happy, outgoing, athletic, beautiful, desired, confident, etc.) The problem is that nothing is actually stopping you from being any and all of those things, right this minute, as a fat person. Find out what makes you happy. Work on reaching out to others. Wear clothes you like. Be proud of what you do well.

Do not accept any implication that there is something wrong with you. When your 9th grade school counselor has the bright idea to try and force you to be friends with the “other fat girl” at the school even though your weight is the only thing you have in common, stand up for yourself. Tell her she’s out of line. Tell her she’s stereotyping, and that she would never try this on two kids who happened to both be black in a predominantly white school. Tell your parents so that they can say it for you. They will.

Do not accept ownership of the shame and anger directed at you as a fat person. You have only to be ashamed of wrong action or words which hurt yourself or other living beings. That’s it. You do not have to take responsibility for anything else, including what others think of and do to you. If you do not accept the shame others try to instill in you, then it is only for them to feel it. Hold on to that when it gets bad.

Your family is your greatest ally. You are so wrapped up in your own hurt and resentment that you don’t even realize it. Your brother has and will always defend you, and will be a great friend if you let him. He’s your connection to people (gamers, geeks) who are most likely to accept you for who you are regardless of what you look like. He will also forgive all the rotten things you’ve done to him throughout your life. Your friends liking him doesn’t mean they like you any less, but your completely illogical jealousy and torture of him makes you look like a crazy, petty bitch. You resent him because you feel invisible, but that isn’t his fault. Don’t put your self-loathing onto other people, that’s always a mug’s game.

The level of anger, hurt, fear, resentment, paralyzing embarrassment and numbness you feel every day isn’t normal. It isn't something everybody else feels and just deals with better than you. It isn’t supposed to be this hard. Ask for help. Do it while you’re still on your parents’ kickass company insurance, because the kind of help you need costs money. You won’t get another chance.

When you get a bit older, and this is hard, remember it isn’t about who you can have; it’s about who you want. The two are NOT the same thing. You are not defined by who will sleep with you, because some men will sleep with anyone. Don’t mistake sex for love, that’s not how some guys are wired. Don’t accept less than respect from a partner, but make love your standard. (P.S., when Tyler asks you out…throw something sharp at him and run the other way. Fast. Far. Don’t look back.)

Until you have your own head and heart sorted out, sharing them with someone else is just going to end badly. No one is going to do it for you, or keep you on a little pedestal without ever noticing your faults so that you can ignore them as well. No one else is ever responsible for knowing when you need help, and it's unrealistic to expect it, no matter how well connected you are. You have to ask. No one is going to save you from yourself, or change you from the outside. That’s all on you.

Your half-brother is a bigot, a loser, and consumed by his own insecurities. He is not someone you should worry about impressing. He will not get any better in the next 15 years, and in fact will get worse. Do not place any importance on what he thinks of you.

Avoid the credit cards. I don’t care if you have to shop at Goodwill and eat ramen noodles the rest of your life (you won’t). Your credit balance will bury you just when you should actually be able to afford all the things you wasted money on too early.

Don’t be afraid of being the fat girl who loves to cook. Don’t give up anything you love because of how it might look to others.

Own your actions. Take responsibility for your own headspace. Take pictures, be in pictures, label pictures (trust me; it’s the only way you’ll remember what happened). Be careful what you project onto others (either demonizing or idealizing). Let people in, at least a little more. Write everything down, even the bad stuff. If nothing else, it’s practice. It’s all practice, so you don’t have to get anything right the first go-around. If you do hit 30 without finding that one person who can keep up with your constantly switching tracks in life, the world does not end. You’re an acquired taste, wait for a connoisseur. Trust in the universe, but lock your car. Don’t sweat the small stuff. It’s all small stuff.

Sincerely,

Jo, 15 years later.

Lane Bryant Shootings memorial fund

A comment received yesterday on my post about the Lane Bryant shootings in Tinley Park:

Charming Shoppes, which owns Lane Bryant, Catherines, Fashion Bug and
Petite Sophisticate, has established a memorial fund for the families of the
incredible women who lost their lives.

The Lane Bryant Tinley Park Memorial Fund
Harris Bank
19500 S. Harlem Avenue
Frankfort, IL 60423
ATTN: Sandy Kozin

All of the funds collected will be distributed equally among the five victims'
families. As a manager of one of Lane Bryant's "sister" stores, I cannot tell you
how many times I have thought over the last 10 days, "this could have happened
to us." My hope is that they find the monster who committed this unspeakable
crime as quickly as possible, and that he receives the punishment he deserves.
Rest in peace, ladies.

Breaking News: Fat People Eat Instead of Sleeping

A new story making the rounds of the news feeds is about a study that claims a faulty circadian clock alters natural hunger cycles.

"Mice fed a high-fat diet experienced a sudden disturbance in their
circadian clocks, which caused them to overeat when they should have been
resting or asleep."

According to a more detailed article, the mice were fed a diet containing 45% fat for two weeks to create the disturbance of the body clock. There was no mention as to how they controlled for other nutrients (if half the calories are coming from fat, how nutrient-dense are the rest of them? Are the control mice getting more vitamins and minerals, and that's having an effect on the circadian?)

"The eating behavior of mice in the study mimicked that of people who experience munchies non-stop and then, after snacking all day, launch midnight raids on their refrigerators, Bass said."

Oh, right. I forgot. Fat people are fat because they eat ALL THE TIME, day and night, never pausing in the quest to stuff their face with baby flavored donuts and milkshakes made from kittens. How silly of me.

I really need to get a subscription to access studies beyond the abstract. I'd really, really like to know details that get handily left out by the media. What was the activity level of the mice? What were the total calories consumed by each group? Did they try a group of naturally fat mice as a control, or just overfeed a bunch of thin mice to make them temporarily fat (which would indeed mess seriously with their biological functions)? Did the researcher find out if the circadian is altered in mice that were born fat?

More importantly, why didn't I know that all fat people sleep badly? Gosh and Geburah, this could explain everything! Sleeping pills for everyone, lets cure this pesky epidemic.

*eye roll*

Cold Day, Spicy Food

Kalamazoo isn't that small. Granted, much of the population is seasonal due to two universities and a couple of colleges in the area, but you'd still think we'd have at least a couple restaurants that stretch the definition of "exotic" further than a Chinese buffet.

Finally, in the midst of this sub-zero February fark, I think we may have finally reached the tipping point where someone has decided that we can support an Indian grocery!

mmm....lentils....with chilies....

Just when I was really starting to get into a cooking funk from boredom, a whole new sub-continent is opened up to me. Finally, I don't have to base my recipes on what's available in the one single "international" aisle at Meijer's. Although, to be fair, they have been a reliable source for whole vanilla bean.

Now if we could just swing a nearby Trader Joe's, it would be like spring all over again :-)

BigMovesBabe left a great Paneer recipe on Shapely Prose today...anybody else have a favorite Indian recipe to share?

The How, Part 3: Be an Example? The challenges of representing fat

The How: Part 3

Be An Example?

(The Challenges of Representing Fat)

Picking up an old series on how individuals can find their own particular niche in Fat/Size Acceptance activism, I've reached what may be the most controversial of the suggestions: Be an Example.

A great post over at FatGrrl talked about the mind games many of us play as fat people. Amongst the other gems that made me cringe with guilt (because we've all been there, played that) is number two: "You’ve seen a fat person in a store in one of those motorized scooters and thought 'that’s what gives us a bad name.'"

Now I created the original "How" post before a lot of the cobwebs of self-loathing had been chased out of the attics of my unconscious, so I hadn't yet realized that I, as a fat person, have participated in fat hate. I’ve been guilty, upon seeing a fat person on television or in person who fit a certain stereotype, of thinking “how dare he/she, when other people will see that and judge me by it.” This may have been part psychological projection, part acceptance of the pop paradigm, or entirely my own awful ignorance. It doesn't matter. I never got to the point of actually going to peoples' faces or blogs and hating on them, but a quiet bigot is still a bigot. If I'm being entirely honest with myself, I was a hater in my own head. I don’t think I’ve really come to terms with that until now. How dare I think I have any right to expect someone to live their life differently because it fit the way I see the world? How dare I heap more negativity on people who are already buried beneath it, when they are human beings deserving of my respect? How dare I presume to have any right to judge, or even know anything about a person’s life, simply because they don’t waste time trying just as hard as I do to conform? How dare I, when others were probably doing the same when they looked at me?

A hate crime enacted upon yourself or upon others who resemble you, should still be considered a crime.

It’s a pretty subtle trap, the idea that all fat people represent fat. As illustrated in the "Knapsack of Privilege," very few groups of people get to walk out their front door without being a representative for something. Few human beings can dress however they want, do whatever they want, eat however they want, or express themselves without having to stop and consider what it says about every other person who looks like them. This is an incredibly powerful state of mind that does more to prevent equality than many more overt barriers. No one escapes it entirely, but some groups cannot escape it at all.

The assumption of representation is designed to keep a group of people in line with what society is comfortable thinking about them. It works so well that the people themselves adopt it, creating a self-regulating stereotype. Another way to put this is to say that living in deliberate avoidance of stereotypes is still allowing stereotypes to control your life.

I’ve been just as quick as any other FA activist to pull out the “good fatty” argument. If someone tells me I wouldn’t be fat if I just exercised enough, I point to Jennifer Portnick, the size 16 aerobics instructor that works out 6 days a week and leads back-to-back classes. I offer up Fat Girl on a Bike as a fantastic example of someone who is at the peak of fitness without being thin. If someone pulls the “donuts and Twinkies” argument, I hit back with the fact that many fat people actually dislike rich or sugary foods, some are vegans, some control carefully for carbohydrates. This works well in those discussions where you know the other party is really not up to the mental exercise of actual science or math and needs a simple picture drawn for them. Now I wonder whether I’m helping or hurting FA by doing so.

So let’s look at reasons why.

FOR:

Every movement throughout history has sought “poster people” who defy stereotypes and give the average citizen a real face to identify. Symbols are important, as they are easier to quickly grasp than studies when so much conflicting information is competing for our attention. If you are a beautiful woman who happens to be fat, it not only challenges the concepts of beauty pushed by the cosmetics and fashion industries, but serves as a positive message to those who still hate their own bodies. If you dress neatly and fashionably as a fat person, it challenges the idea that fat people never care about their appearance, or the infuriating “letting yourself go” theory of why fat people allow themselves to exist. If you eat healthy and exercise, it challenges the myth that doing such will make anyone thin.

The bias and hysteria over fat is so pervasive and under-challenged in mainstream culture that any tiny chip in the armor of certainty is a victory. The response to "well you're not a triathlete you fatty mcfatfat!" should be something like "No I'm not. But I can point to that person to challenge your first assumption. Now that it's out of the way, we can work on your assumption that you have any right to know or judge MY body or how I live MY life." When it comes to stereotypes and prejudice, sometimes you have to divide and conquer.

If you feel like your particular role in FA is to always appear well-dressed and perfectly groomed, become a positive role model in the community through volunteer work, promote HAES, or otherwise represent fat people, then that can be a positive force in changing minds and breaking down assumptions.

AGAINST:

The healthy and positive use of representatives is a pretty narrow line to walk. The danger both within and without the FA community is the potential to start dividing fat people into “good fatties” and “bad fatties.” This is not inevitable, but it is a constant danger that takes vigilance to avoid.

A discussion I’ve seen in FA is whether there is a “cutoff” at which someone is too fat, even for a movement labeled “fat acceptance.” I believe this has a lot to do with ideas people have about the image of the movement and how it will be received, but the question itself is a trap. Do we start excluding diabetics and PCOS sufferers, contenting ourselves with seeking rights for the “healthy fat”? What about the fat people who actually do like donuts? Do we exclude anyone that might allow haters fuel for their vitriol? The answer is certainly “no”.

The risk from outside the FA movement is that people will use the division as confirmation by fatties themselves that only some fat people deserve equality. This could be used as an excuse to transfer all the bias from all the fatties onto a few, who will be more bereft of support than ever. The risk is even more divisive from within FA. If fat people themselves fall into the “good fattie, bad fattie” trap, we will alienate those within the movement who will most benefit from FA and most suffer from discrimination. FA is not about fighting for the rights of healthy fat people, it's about ensuring that every fat person is treated as a human being. Fat Acceptance cannot retain the title if it is not about fighting for human rights for every fat person, period. Sometimes the "good fatty" game can distract from that message, and alienate those who feel that it puts pressure on them to be something other than themselves in order to fit in.

CONCLUSION:

Any tool in the arsenal against fat hate is useful, but any tool can be used with positive or negative results. There has to be a clear, consistant caveat to any use of representation that regardless of whether a fat person has a healthy diet or not, dresses fashionably or not, exercises or not, is married or not, is intelligent or not, is gay, straight, bi, diabetic, struggling with an ED, mobility-challenged, vegan, omnivore, tall, short, black, white, or any other state of being in addition to being fat, they are still human beings. Their weight, dress code, IQ, eating habits, activities, sexual nature or physical health is none of anybody’s business. No one gets to quiz them on their health history or lifestyle before passing judgement on them, because no one has the right to pass judgement on them in the first place. Fat people deserve equal rights and respect not because they are healthy, pretty, fit, disease-free or any other qualifier, but because they are first and foremost human beings.

The Purpose of Movement

I'm glad I got my Friday fluff out of the way yesterday, because this subject came up and I wanted to get my thoughts together on it.

How awful is the assumption that the sole purpose of moving your body in new ways can only logically be to lose or prevent fat? Much like the medicinalizing of food, the "workout" mentality sucks the joy out of what should be joyful and creates punishment in what should be empowering.

The long and short is that I went hunting for a new Yoga DVD. I've been using a very basic beginner's training for a month now, but I'm ready to move beyond it. What I found was that it's difficult to find a Yoga DVD that doesn't advertise itself as promoting weight loss. I seriously found titles like Cardio-Yoga, Yoga Dance Fusion, or more directly, Fat-Burning Yoga Workout! (most of them had a lot of exclamation marks and chipper half naked people in leg-warmers on the covers.)

When I first chose to learn Yoga, it's appeal was the focus on physical power, energy, flexibility, and balance. It's supposed to be meditative. It's not supposed to promise ten minute abs. When did we turn so much play into work? What happened to taking a walk in order to enjoy the walk instead of just trying to get that heart rate elevated? How grim a world where we're so caught up in the aerobics of it that we no longer love to dance?

The only Yoga DVD on the shelf at Barnes and Nobles that wasn't about "visible toning" or "fat burning Yogercise" was called "Fluid Power" by Shiva Rea. It's Vinyasa Flow Yoga, and was labeled for experienced beginner to intermediate. Perfect, just challenging enough, and no mention of abs, fat, or tone. So while I could have gone to Amazon and found a lot of great options, I grabbed this one.

I'm a big believer in synchronicity, so it shouldn't have been a surprise to me when I opened the DVD and found that the first sentence of the booklet says "Infinite gratitude to Yemaya".

Those who don't know me need some background on this. Yemaya is the mother of waters in some Yoruban and their syncretic spiritual traditions. She's the Orisha who rules the oceans, and some of her gifts are healing, intuition, magic, feminine strength and mystery. She's also a power that I personally honor because her symbols or her name tends to appear unexpectedly when I particularly need to pay attention to something in my life, or to confirm that I'm doing something good for myself. Like now.

The method on the DVD is about tuning into your body's connection to water through intuitive free-form movement and asanas. The instructional portion talks about the concepts in terms of both vedic teachings and quantum physics, and there are different practices for different levels and purposes. There's even special prep work to get ready for the namaskars (sun salutations).

But this post isn't really about the DVD itself (as geeked about it as I am); It's about the purpose of movement. I do understand that everyone is wired differently. Some people get the same quieting of mind and purpose from free weight reps as I get from the warrior poses. That's great. After all, "some people juggle geese." It's the people who see either of those as some sort of trial to be endured for the greater good of skinny that bother me. If your body is an obstacle, or a recalcitrant prisoner to be beaten into submission, how can you ever learn to trust it? If it's an opponent to fight, how do you ever find harmony with it? If movement is work, as in workout, how do you ever find joy in it?

What ever happened to dancing?

There are great nights every summer when a circle of close friends all get together around a big bonfire. Sometimes we have enough drummers to get a good complex beat going; other times we have to rely on recorded music. But the best nights are when the energy is high and we kick of our shoes to dance. Yes, even us fat chicks. We're not working out or counting calories burned. We're not trying to impress anyone. We're not worried if we don't impress anyone. We just dance, and laugh, and sometimes spin fire. It's a celebration.

I can drag myself into a gym to use an elliptical machine for twenty minutes and barely be able to walk the next morning because I'm so sore. I hate it, and I hate gyms. They work for a lot of people who find their own form of meditation in circuit training, but I'm not one of them. On the other hand, I can dance (and we're talking raw tribal dance..you want to define aerobic?) for four hours or more to a constantly evolving drumbeat, and wake up without a single sore muscle. Some people have it the other way around. Maybe it's like intuitive eating, where your body will tell you what movement is most beneficial to you on a holistic level, even if that level or type of movement doesn't work for anyone else. All I know is that what I'm doing seems to be right for me.

For that, for the new-found respect for my body inherent in FA, and for the joy of movement... my "infinite gratitude to Yemaya."