Grrrls? Really?

Okay, I admit it. I am having second, third and fourth thoughts about that because it's reading a little lame. Possibly lame in a "yeah, grrrls is so lame, but once you get past that, she's really funny and has interesting things to say" way or possibly in a "the nineties? really?" way. I digress.

So for all you young folk out there, Riot Grrrl is probably just a term that you've heard about in your women's studies class or the interwebs. But when I was a wee thing back in high school, hating my life and working furiously on my 'zine (The Sphincter, if you must know) and reading Sassy, I stumbled across the Riot Grrrl Manifesto, and it opened my eyes.

It's twenty years later, and I still believe:

BECAUSE we are unwilling to let our real and valid anger be diffused and/or turned against us via the internalization of sexism as witnessed in girl/girl jealousism and self defeating girltype behaviors.

BECAUSE I believe with my wholeheartmindbody that girls constitute a revolutionary soul force that can, and will change the world for real.

Maybe that's why I started this blog -- because I'm still angry and I still want to be loud about it, and I really, truly believe that we can change things. What things? I don't know. All the things!

F is for Faith, But I Promise Not To Get Jesus Freaky on Your Ass

Or Anne Lamotty. Unless you like Anne Lamott in which case I will tell you that I really love her even though it seems kind of nerdy and hippie to admit this.

I go to church. I am active in a "faith community." It's a big part of my life, but a big part that I find hard to talk about because Church (capital C) shares the crap out of a lot of people. I believe strongly in God's will for me. I know this freaks atheists and other less spiritual folks out because they don't like the idea of things being predestined. I don't understand that because it's the part I LOVE as I clearly have no idea what the hell I am doing on my own. I like the idea that there's a story for me and that I'll be able to connect the dots later on.

I wrote my testimony last year, and I still think it's one of the rare times I was completely honest.

It’s hard to describe and put into words, especially in 3 to 5 minutes, what being here means to us. When people find out that we come here and that we volunteer our time, their initial reaction is usually, “YOU go the church?” followed by “Why?”
Mainly because I can be quiet here. I can listen here. Most of the time, I have a constant monologue running through my head of things I have to do, ways I’m supposed to be, things I’m doing wrong, tasks that need to be accomplished – a laundry list of ways I am somehow not good enough. Sometimes being here is the one hour during the week that I can remember and have some clarity about what I’m doing all those other things FOR. And really, what’s important.

I have been incredibly blessed with a beautiful family and good health and enough money, but I don’t always remember that. Sometimes it feels like we are living from chore to chore, but when I’m here, it’s like there’s a mute button on everything else and I can be still and listen to what God wants me to hear, that still-speaking God that I can drown out in my day-to-day life.

To be honest, I'm not quite sure how I'll be writing about Faith here as it's hard to separate it from the rest of me, but I suspect I'll try.

F is for Fashion

I like clothes. A lot. I like sweaters and dresses and shoes and skirts and coats and...you get the picture. I love shopping. YES, I know to admit to such a thing makes me seem like an uneducated mass consumptionist (or someone from NJ), but I love the happiness that comes from finding the absolute perfect outfit. If Love, Loss and What I Wore was not already the title of a memoir, I would totally steal it because I can remember almost all of the key moments in my life with their accompanying outfit.

I often have trouble shopping, though, because I am almost always an "in between." At my thinnest, I usually wear a size 10 and right now, post-baby, I run between a 14 and a 16. So I'm at the high end of "regular" clothes and the low end of "plus." Basically, I am nobody's fit model. Given my fat issues and unbelievable propensity for body loathing, this can make a trip shopping either an ecstatic high (Yay, I look hot. This fits!) or purgatory (I'm so disgusting. Nothing fits!). I've gotten much better about blaming the clothes and not my body, but not always.

The mission statement over at Already Pretty has always resonated deeply with me, and I'm hoping to explore some of my own fashion and style choices and/or issues here.

"Because when I started to dress in a way that made me look amazing and feel amazing, I finally stopped actively, continually, exhaustingly hating my body. And I immediately wanted to show other women how to make that connection so they could stop hating theirs. Most of what I write here explores how style impacts body image, and how dressing well expresses self-respect and self-understanding. My primary mission is to show that body knowledge gained through explorations of personal style can foster self-love and self-respect." -- Sally McGraw.

F is for Food

So once I started realizing that "fat" was mostly in my head, I knew I had to start thinking about the food I eat. I LOVE to eat. It might be my favorite thing in the world. I eat when I'm happy. I eat when I'm sad. I eat when I'm bored. I eat when I'm awake. I eat when I want a reward. I eat to punish myself. I eat. A lot.

And I really don't know how to eat. For the vast majority of my post-adolescent life, I was on some kind of diet and all of my food habits were learned from other people who were almost always on diets. We ate lots of carbs, but everything snack wise was low fat or diet or reduced calorie. And let us not forget Diet Coke, the communion wine of my family of origin.

A few years ago, I went to a nutrionist to essentially learn what I was supposed to eat. She basically told me that I was overweight and recommended a diet. #MedicalCommunityFAIL.

Then I started reading. I got very into Michael Pollan for a while, but then realized that I am not really a slow food, kill my own animal and cure it kind of person. I am more of a Open That Box and Eat From It Standing Up person. "Real" food tastes weird to me. Like, why would I want to whip my own cream when I can have Cool Whip? Alice Waters just died a little.

I know this is wrong, or well, not good. I'm not doing my body any favors, and one thing I've learned as a pseudo athlete is that shitty food makes you perform shitty. Then a friend recommended Marion Nestle's What To Eat, and I fell in love. The book walks you through each supermarket section and provides sensible advice about what is nutritious and healthy. It's this book that got me interested in food politics and how food industry lobbyists are rewriting nutrition standards in their best interests. It's the book, and Nestle's blog, Food Politics, that inspired me to write about this stuff.

F is for Fat

I am fat. Maybe yes. Maybe no. I have learned not to trust my expertise on matters of my own fatness or lack of. Essentially, I am seriously fucked in this area.

Stats (since I understand these are important when writing about fat): I am 5 ft, 6 inches. My pre-pregnancies weight that I'm fairly close to again is 177 lbs. That gives me a BMI squarely in the middle of "overweight."

I have spent so long – almost as far back as memory goes -- obsessing about fat in some way. Being fat, not being fat, obsessing about getting fat, obsessing about getting fat AGAIN, afraid of fat, how [insert X] makes me look fat, how I am so much fatter than X. I spent, and to some extent, still spend, endless hours wondering what my life would be like if I were less fat or less afraid of being fat, but I’m not sure I even know what being thin means. I don’t know how to define it, and I’m not sure I’d even know what it was when I got there. I have my own fantasy of being thin, and in this fantasy, I’m not just a smaller version of myself – I’m not me; I am someone else completely.

In my fantasy, I am cool. So unbelievably cool that everyone secretly wants to be me. Not the cheerleaders and the student government popular kids, of course. They would still think I’m a loser. But I would be a patron saint for all the freaks and outcast – the weird kids with black clothes and clove cigarettes, pink hair, all the musicians, the poets, the gay boys and the artists. They would all know I was special. And then there would be that one popular kid – just like in an ABC After School Special – who felt guilty about being such a shit, and after initial distrust and disdain, we’d become great friends and mosh together at the school dance. Apparently, I’m still in high school when I’m thin.

But this coolness transcends time and place. When I’m thin, I have a great career that I like and that people understand. Even more stunning is how laid back and not worried I am. I am quirky, and I delightedly just roll with the punches. I am definitely not neurotic, and I do not have a “process” for everything. I have no idea what it means to be efficient with a capital E. I just roll with it, man.

When I am thin, I am no longer introverted. I am goddamn jolly and busy myself with the tons of acquaintances I’ve picked up along the way – people I’ve chatted up in bookstores, coffee shops, on the T. I own the room, not matter what I’m wearing. I am CONFIDENT.

There’s no big reveal here, no great surprise at the end of the mystery novel. None of this – absolutely nothing in this fantasy – has anything to do with being thin. It all has everything to do with being me. I, and presumably everyone else who funds the billion dollar diet industry, fantasize that being thin – or thinner – will magically transform me into an amazing new person. I’ll shed a few pounds, tear off the gift wrap, and there will be a shiny and sparkly new me with a brilliant new personality.

I still struggle with this a lot. I know what a bunch of horse shit it is, and it's partially why I read and write a lot about fat "issues" -- I'm still trying to figure it out day to day.