A Certain Point of View
10 years ago
Showing posts with label fat hate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fat hate. Show all posts
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Definitely a WTF? moment....
So, this eye doc in North Carolina tells a patient that she's fat, has thick thighs, and is irresponsible for being unemployed while pregnant. Then he put his comments in writing. The regulatory agency is "considering" to revoke his license. I'm not real sure what they have to consider, except helping Mr. Sunderhaus find a new line of work, preferrably in the fields of refuse collection or perhaps oil drilling.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Yes, we're fat, get over it!
The term 'obese' has become the new N-word in the media and other places. Until the 1960's (Thanks Twiggy, you anorexic twat!) women with padding were considered attractive and desirable. It showed that she had wealth, because only poor people were thin. In many cultures, thin women were considered ugly and unmarriageable, since they probably wouldn't be able to produce viable offspring.
With the shift of cheap processed convenience foods in the 1950's replacing wholesome real food, the poor began to get bigger, and being thin was the realm of the rich. Only the wealthy could afford to buy fresh fruits and vegetables, and lean meats. The rest of the population could only afford to eat sub-standard junk, sugar and fat loaded crap, or 'plastic food-like substances', as described by Michael Pollan. Chemicals became cheaper than real food, and that's what many of us grew up on.
I was lucky in that I had Old World grandparents. Grandma was horrified at the thought of Kraft mac and cheese. She spent a good chunk of her day in the kitchen, preparing everything from scratch. Mother cooked as well, but the older she got, and the more into her social life, the more junk food came into the house. (Grandparents were gone by that time) As society changed, she began to berate me for being "fat", dragging me to Weight Watchers, forcing me to ingest all kind of chemical weight loss crap, and then taking me to a 'diet doctor' (otherwise known as a pill pusher) at 12 to get speed and some sort of injections. (I finally refused to go after one such injection was put into a nerve cluster, causing me horrible pain for several years) And you know what? I wasn't fat at the time. I was big, but with Italian/German/American Indian genetics, I wasn't the thin tit-less standard of beauty at the time.
As an adult, after constantly being harassed, I decided to try Weight Watchers again. The first appointment they set my goal weight at 112 pounds. (I'm 5'5" and was 220 at the time.) After a couple of sessions, I went to my doc for a checkup, and told her what they had said. She was horrified. She promptly did a skeletal density test, and claimed "Stop going, your skeleton weights about 100 pounds. You're not fat, just a few pounds over. I'd like to see you between 185 and 200." I hovered around that weight for years until my husband started abusing me and cheating on me, and I turned to the only friend I had since we had moved, food. I gained alot, and even more when I became pregnant. The OB claimed that I had gestational diabetes, and I had to use a monitor 4 times daily. Then she accused me of lying, and told my husband to chart the results, and keep the log so I couldn't change it. Guess what? No diabetes. None. Nada. Not even a high blood sugar reading.
After years of abuse and self-torture, I finally began to lose weight. I was 325 for a few years. About this time was when my husband announced that if we didn't become polyamourous, he would divorce me. And as the typical abused spouse, I agreed, since I was terrified to be alone. Well, that backfired on him big time, as women (and men) flocked to me, and pretty much ignored him, except for the mental patient he'd been cheating on me with for years. (They met when he was an aid at the state hospital.) Unhappy with my life, I turned to drugs and drinking to cope. I partied with the best of them, and lost 120 pounds. And you know what? I was STILL horribly unhappy. I could (and did sometimes) have a different lover every week, and it still wasn't enough. I had a closet full of beautiful stylish clothes, and they didn't make me happy. I was miserable, and headed down a bad road at high speed.
Then one day I woke up, and realized that it wasn't me that was the problem, it was him. So I finally got the courage to throw him out and divorce him. He ended up marrying the mental patient, since no one else would have him. They are a perfectly matched pair, drugging and drinking on a regular basis. I only wish my son didn't have to go over there and deal with that shit. (And no, the state won't do a thing, because the abuse is emotional, and not physical, and we can't catch them doing the drugs in public.)
I've since remarried a wonderful man who is also big. I LOVE having a partner that I don't feel like I'm going to break if I hug them too hard. We love ourselves, and each other, and he's more of a father to my son than his biological father, whose idea of parenting is to come out of the smoke filled bedroom to yell on occasion. (SO 1950's of him!)
Americans will not get less fat until we as a culture get rid of chemical crap pushed on us by the food industry. In many places, there are no grocery stores, and the corner markets are a thing of the past. As food prices continue to go up, more and more people are turning to fast food dollar menus to feed their families, because they have lost the skills and knowledge to prepare wholesome food. Many families are dual income just to be able to keep a roof over their heads, and are too tired and stresses to fix food from scratch. I was one of those until I decided my health and my family's health was more important than being able to buy the newest electronic toys and things we really didn't need. So now I spend a good portion of my day raising and preparing our food. And I love it.
With the shift of cheap processed convenience foods in the 1950's replacing wholesome real food, the poor began to get bigger, and being thin was the realm of the rich. Only the wealthy could afford to buy fresh fruits and vegetables, and lean meats. The rest of the population could only afford to eat sub-standard junk, sugar and fat loaded crap, or 'plastic food-like substances', as described by Michael Pollan. Chemicals became cheaper than real food, and that's what many of us grew up on.
I was lucky in that I had Old World grandparents. Grandma was horrified at the thought of Kraft mac and cheese. She spent a good chunk of her day in the kitchen, preparing everything from scratch. Mother cooked as well, but the older she got, and the more into her social life, the more junk food came into the house. (Grandparents were gone by that time) As society changed, she began to berate me for being "fat", dragging me to Weight Watchers, forcing me to ingest all kind of chemical weight loss crap, and then taking me to a 'diet doctor' (otherwise known as a pill pusher) at 12 to get speed and some sort of injections. (I finally refused to go after one such injection was put into a nerve cluster, causing me horrible pain for several years) And you know what? I wasn't fat at the time. I was big, but with Italian/German/American Indian genetics, I wasn't the thin tit-less standard of beauty at the time.
As an adult, after constantly being harassed, I decided to try Weight Watchers again. The first appointment they set my goal weight at 112 pounds. (I'm 5'5" and was 220 at the time.) After a couple of sessions, I went to my doc for a checkup, and told her what they had said. She was horrified. She promptly did a skeletal density test, and claimed "Stop going, your skeleton weights about 100 pounds. You're not fat, just a few pounds over. I'd like to see you between 185 and 200." I hovered around that weight for years until my husband started abusing me and cheating on me, and I turned to the only friend I had since we had moved, food. I gained alot, and even more when I became pregnant. The OB claimed that I had gestational diabetes, and I had to use a monitor 4 times daily. Then she accused me of lying, and told my husband to chart the results, and keep the log so I couldn't change it. Guess what? No diabetes. None. Nada. Not even a high blood sugar reading.
After years of abuse and self-torture, I finally began to lose weight. I was 325 for a few years. About this time was when my husband announced that if we didn't become polyamourous, he would divorce me. And as the typical abused spouse, I agreed, since I was terrified to be alone. Well, that backfired on him big time, as women (and men) flocked to me, and pretty much ignored him, except for the mental patient he'd been cheating on me with for years. (They met when he was an aid at the state hospital.) Unhappy with my life, I turned to drugs and drinking to cope. I partied with the best of them, and lost 120 pounds. And you know what? I was STILL horribly unhappy. I could (and did sometimes) have a different lover every week, and it still wasn't enough. I had a closet full of beautiful stylish clothes, and they didn't make me happy. I was miserable, and headed down a bad road at high speed.
Then one day I woke up, and realized that it wasn't me that was the problem, it was him. So I finally got the courage to throw him out and divorce him. He ended up marrying the mental patient, since no one else would have him. They are a perfectly matched pair, drugging and drinking on a regular basis. I only wish my son didn't have to go over there and deal with that shit. (And no, the state won't do a thing, because the abuse is emotional, and not physical, and we can't catch them doing the drugs in public.)
I've since remarried a wonderful man who is also big. I LOVE having a partner that I don't feel like I'm going to break if I hug them too hard. We love ourselves, and each other, and he's more of a father to my son than his biological father, whose idea of parenting is to come out of the smoke filled bedroom to yell on occasion. (SO 1950's of him!)
Americans will not get less fat until we as a culture get rid of chemical crap pushed on us by the food industry. In many places, there are no grocery stores, and the corner markets are a thing of the past. As food prices continue to go up, more and more people are turning to fast food dollar menus to feed their families, because they have lost the skills and knowledge to prepare wholesome food. Many families are dual income just to be able to keep a roof over their heads, and are too tired and stresses to fix food from scratch. I was one of those until I decided my health and my family's health was more important than being able to buy the newest electronic toys and things we really didn't need. So now I spend a good portion of my day raising and preparing our food. And I love it.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Fat Hate and general bad attitude
After a spat with my sister today that caused her to hang up on me after I called her on some BS she was spouting, I got online and typed 'fat hate' into the search engine. A lot of FA blogs/articles came up, and of course, so did the FH (Fat Haters) stuff. I'm surprised I was able to read them and not become totally outraged. In fact, I felt a sense of sadness for these poor pitiful ppl who have nothing else to do than waste that kind of energy on people they had never met and would never be influenced by.
The bad attitude is all mine, caused by my sister. She was force-retired when her department was shut down due to the economy, and while that was going on I had to listen to her complain how she'd never be able to live off the 100+K her husband makes, and we're eating rice and beans to make ends meet. (We're on ultra-frugal mode, to save up for much needed home repairs). Now, she has been more than generous in the past, buying me clothes, giving me $$, but it is still hard to sit and listen to that. And to top it off, she's gaining weight at an astronomical rate, and whining about how she hates being fat, she'll never accept it, boohoohoo. (She is a fat fat-basher, they are almost worse than previously fat ppl who like to say how anyone can do it, just put down the fork!) And is she doing anything towards it? Not really. So she's down on herself, and totally bored, and wants someone to listen to her cry about it. She doesn't want a 'solution', she wants to lie around in her robe all day and bitch. OK, fine, but I have got a ton of things going on atm, and no time to deal with it, not to mention energy. But, according to her, they aren't REAL things. Like the fact that on Thursday, I will be opening my art studio. I want to sell my art, and I've always wanted my own gallery, and this is the fist logical step. But that's not a REAL job, or even anything at all important. She sounds more and more like our mother every day. I still love her, she is my sister, but I can't deal with this any more. I have to save myself. I'm tired of being told I'm fat, my friends are losers, how I 'better hang onto' my husband, like I'm gonna run off to Boca with someone else. (Not a chance, my husband's the greatest!) Let's not even get into her husband and that whole twisted relationship.
Yes, I know my lifestyle does not meet with your approval. I love you, but get a life, and quit trying to live vicariously through me or your child. I can't deal with someone dragging me down, making me depressed, then saying "You're so negative, this isn't a good day for us!" and hanging up. Take a look in the mirror sister, YOU are the cause of my bad attitude.
The bad attitude is all mine, caused by my sister. She was force-retired when her department was shut down due to the economy, and while that was going on I had to listen to her complain how she'd never be able to live off the 100+K her husband makes, and we're eating rice and beans to make ends meet. (We're on ultra-frugal mode, to save up for much needed home repairs). Now, she has been more than generous in the past, buying me clothes, giving me $$, but it is still hard to sit and listen to that. And to top it off, she's gaining weight at an astronomical rate, and whining about how she hates being fat, she'll never accept it, boohoohoo. (She is a fat fat-basher, they are almost worse than previously fat ppl who like to say how anyone can do it, just put down the fork!) And is she doing anything towards it? Not really. So she's down on herself, and totally bored, and wants someone to listen to her cry about it. She doesn't want a 'solution', she wants to lie around in her robe all day and bitch. OK, fine, but I have got a ton of things going on atm, and no time to deal with it, not to mention energy. But, according to her, they aren't REAL things. Like the fact that on Thursday, I will be opening my art studio. I want to sell my art, and I've always wanted my own gallery, and this is the fist logical step. But that's not a REAL job, or even anything at all important. She sounds more and more like our mother every day. I still love her, she is my sister, but I can't deal with this any more. I have to save myself. I'm tired of being told I'm fat, my friends are losers, how I 'better hang onto' my husband, like I'm gonna run off to Boca with someone else. (Not a chance, my husband's the greatest!) Let's not even get into her husband and that whole twisted relationship.
Yes, I know my lifestyle does not meet with your approval. I love you, but get a life, and quit trying to live vicariously through me or your child. I can't deal with someone dragging me down, making me depressed, then saying "You're so negative, this isn't a good day for us!" and hanging up. Take a look in the mirror sister, YOU are the cause of my bad attitude.
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