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Some of you are probably wondering, "When the hell did this turn into a weight loss blog?" *
*The answer to that question is pretty straight forward. I started this blog in November 2011, I began dieting in August of 2012. Since August, weight loss and things surrounding the weight loss process, have been on my mind every day. I didn't write anything about it until February for a lot of reasons but now that the dam is broken I'm considering it is well and truly smashed.
I have a lot of things swimming about in my head and this might be a doozy of a post. So by all means, refill your coffee cup/whiskey tumbler and make yourself comfortable.
On the docket today we have: Fat Jokes, People Noticing, and "We Are a Hard Sell."
Fat Jokes
Ah, yes. This. Let me start by separating out the two types of fat jokes, as I see them.
1. Jokes told by people who currently identify, or once identified, as fat, about fat people, sometimes in general but really actually more specifically about themselves.
I am one of these jokes tellers at times. A memorable one was a conversation between myself, a good friend, and her boyfriend. She told her boyfriend she had always wanted to Belle for Halloween and was trying to convince him to dress up as the Beast. They were going back and forth about it, so I jokingly joined in, "And I could be Mrs. Potts!" I immediately regretted saying it, because my friend's eyes lit up: "Yes! Ohmygod, perfect!" I'm aware this may not seem like a fat joke, but it was to me. There are three female characters in that movie (Mrs. Potts, the feather-duster, and Belle) and I threw myself in as the older, matronly, de-sexualized one. The fact that everyone agreed, and loved the idea, seemed to me to only to solidify my role (to everyone, including the people present) as the undesireable girl. I know this is not true. I KNOW this is not true. I know it had much more to do with my motherly nature, and the fact that I'm a little bossy. I know it was about Olivia is a Stage Manager! not Olivia is Fat. But it was to me.
These are jokes I try not to make anymore.
2. Jokes told by people who may or may not identify as fat, about fat people, making the fat person the pun of the joke.
That would be a joke like this one:
http://www.refinedguy.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/1-pablo-sandoval-cake.gif
Let me describe to you what is happening. The man in that gif is Pablo Sandoval, one of my three favorite baseball players on the Giants right now. He is the third baseman, their big hitter, and the most overweight member of the team. His nickname is Panda, possibly due to his size but I prefer to think that its because of your combine his first name and last name you get "Pandoval" which is pretty much Panda.
What is happening is that Sandoval is rounding a base, probably third, and looks back at the base for a moment. I'm not sure why, I don't remember this in any game I've seen. Because he is turned around, he loses his footing and face plants in the dirt. What you are seeing
instead is Sandoval running past a piece of cake, looking back because he obviously wants to eat it because he's fat and that's what fat people do OBVIOUSLY, and then loosing his footing and face planting in the dirt.
What made me pick this particular example of a fat joke, is that someone sent me me this gif earlier this week. And not just any someone, someone who I happen to have a big crush on. Someone I happen to like a lot. Someone who, being a Giants fan, probably thought it was funny and then, knowing I am a Giants fan, thought I would think it was funny. I do not find this funny.
A lot of emotions ran through me, when I opened his link and watched that gif. The first, for sure, was surprise. "Why did he send this to me? He knows I'm fat, why would he think I would think this is funny?" It's the same principle of racist jokes: as a rule, white people who tell black jokes do not tell them in front of black people. No one has ever, on purpose, made a fat joke in front of me and expected me to laugh at it. Fat jokes about me, sure. But someone trying to make me laugh with one? This was a first.
The next thing I felt was a little bit of shameful pleasure. "Wait - if he sent it to me, he must not think I'm fat, right?" As I've said, I like this guy
a lot, and I would love to think that he doesn't see me in the same harsh light I see myself. I want him to think I'm beautiful, and the first step of that is to see me as something other than fat.
The last thing I felt, and the emotion that has stuck, was sadness. "Oh, wow. This is funny to him." I'm sad because it means someone I am attracted to and look up to actually sucks a little bit. I'm sad because this gif exists. I'm sad that a lot of people think this funny. I'm sad because I haven't, and won't, say anything to him about it.
I know that I probably should, but I do not for the life of me know what is appropriate. We have a very low key, flirty, friendship. We don't talk about our feelings or anything with high stakes. We get drinks and watch baseball and I look at his agonizingly handsome face and he goes home to his girlfriend. If I called him out on sending me something that hurt my feelings, that would probably be the end of our friendship. I can hear the Xena Warrior Princess voice in my head say, "Good! Do it! You don't want to be friends with a jerk who thinks fat jokes are funny anyway!" But the truth is, a lot of my friends think fat jokes are funny. Friends that would never, ever, want to hurt my feelings. Friends that love me deeply, still, sometimes, find fat jokes funny. Not the cruel, in your face kind. But the harmless kind. The Mrs. Potts kind.
So instead of feeling righteous, or angry, or somehow happy that I'm starting to be admitted into the We Can Tell Fat Jokes Around You club, I just feel sad.
People Noticing
So: I went away to Europe for two weeks. I also stopped working at Artists Rep for two months, but now am back in the building temporarily. I have also lost 55 lbs. One of those three things, or all of those three things, being true has lead to an odd phenomenon: everyone is noticing that I've lost weight. Some people declare it, some people ask about it, some people look at me for longer, some people look at me less (he latter being something which I find
really interesting). No fewer than NINE people have commented on my weight loss in the last three days. NINE.
It's amazing how varied it makes me feel, too. My mental image of myself is always fluctuating, so I usually welcome the comments because it gives me outside perspective. In here, I'm a whole jumble of different weights and sizes but to you, all you people who see me, I'm just one.
This week though, the sheer volume of looks, remarks, shouts, declarations, questions, has caught me off guard. Not all of them have been nice, and not all of them have made me feel good.
A woman at Artists Rep saw me for the first time on Monday and her face just fell. She was someone I used to talk to regularly when I worked there full time, but I haven't seen her once since Monday. I don't want to say she's avoiding me, but I think she is.
A man at Artists Rep who has a serious girlfriend and who never really talked to me before has started to look at me. Really look at me. We made eye contact in the lobby today and he smiled at me slowly and I felt my own mouth get tight and small; it was some attention I did not like.
I've bought a few new clothes recently, but not a ton. I'm mostly still wearing my old wardrobe, just 55lbs later. When I wear an outfit I know I've worn before, I look for old pictures of me in the same clothes. I make a lot of composites like this on my phone, just so I can try and maintain perspective. I want to see what you all see when you look at me.
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| June 2012 April 2013 |
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"We are a hard sell" - Mama Murphy
I was talking to my mom today about a man who has recently told me that he has feelings for me. I mentioned that he's referred to me as a "sexy, intelligent, wonderful woman who I adore" in a text message. My mother's immediate response? "Oh, I like him."
"Mom!" I laughed. "You always like any guy who likes me or Tessie. You just assume that if he likes us, he's got to have something going right." This is something I've teased her about before, but today she got pretty serious with me.
"I have a theory. See, we are a hard sell. You, me, your sister. And I'm not just talking about how we look. We're intimidating, we're sharp. We're not afraid to show how smart we are, to anybody. You're in charge, your sister doesn't mess around. You are strong women and that is, sadly, a turn off to 90% of men." She went on to say that any man can watch a woman walk by and want her, even if that "her" is me, or my mother, or my sister. She thinks that it takes a special sort of man to meet and talk to and listen to any of us, and still be attracted. "We don't make them feel like a big powerful man 100% of the time. We challenge them. The men who likes us are the kind of men who want a partner or a challenge, someone who is maybe smarter than them, someone who is maybe not going to fawn on them." I didn't say anything through all of this and at the end she said, "So that's why I like this guy right away. He didn't say, 'I like your rack.' He said you were sexy and intelligent and that he adores you. You deserve to be adored by someone smart enough to see all those things together."
That conversation was this morning and here I am, still thinking about it. I've been thinking about it all day.I've had men tell I'm intimating before. I've had men too intimidated by me to say, but make it very clear nonetheless. I hate to think that any part of me repels people, but I guess that's inevitable? Everyone does something that someone else somewhere doesn't like, there is no way to avoid it. And if you (I) live your (my) life trying to make everyone like you (me), then you (I) will be very unhappy indeed. So, hell, sure. I'm a hard sell. It sounds so capital R Romantic, and I want to be willing to be it. The Xena voice in me says, "Yes! I am difficult to desire! But if you do want me, you've already passed the first test so bravo!" But there is a little girl voice in me says, "But nobody wants me, so it must be a very hard test." I've been bouncing between these two all day.
In the end, I think it is a hard test. We're all hard to love and that's part of why it is such a fucking miracle when we find someone who willing to do the work required to love us. Up until very recently, I have been an extremely difficult sell. I was (more) broken (than I am now) and it showed. The things I said, the way I acted, the thoughts I thought, the way I looked. I am mending now, and, somehow, sometimes, there are interested buyers. The more I mend the more there will be, I think. But I'm never going to be an easy sell. I'm not a bic lighter, I'm a Zippo. With your name engraved.
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