posted by fatfu
Oh. My. God. I didn’t know even know WisCon existed. It looks fantastic and full of cool people. I so want to go next year.
If you know about events like this, please share. Also I’m working on this events/calendar thing (one of the feeds in the right column). At the moment in beta, but I’d like to keep that updated too. So I’d be grateful for whoever posts here or emails me whatever they’ve got. fatfu9 AT yahoo DOTTT com
blimp out.
posted by fatfu
“I will say that fat hate is one of the last forms of prejudice in which even most people who are subjected to it think they are getting exactly what they deserve.”
That’s one of Meowser’s great summations that rattles around in your head for a while, planting its seeds.
In some ways fat seems so much like other marginalized identities. The way the culture constructs around us (and out of us) a nightmare image of plague and disease, moral dissolution and societal collapse is so reminiscent of (for instance) the way it has traditionally operated against sexual minorities.
But fat is also different. In part exactly the way Meowser says – the way we readily join in our own victimization. The pathetic rarity of a fat person who won’t bash themselves at the drop of a hat. Who will even suspect that prejudice and abuse is something we should resist. If not for ourselves, then for people like us.
But why are we like that?
I think in that last line – “people like us” – there’s a clue. We don’t really see ourselves as part of a group. And when we forget that we’re part of a group, when we see ourselves only as lone individuals with a “problem,” we forget that there’s more at stake than just our own individual welfare.
For one thing, there’s the welfare of an upcoming generation of fat children. Who are growing up in a world that so completely vicious and hysterical about weight that I can’t imagine what it must be like for them. (And I grew up in a world that was pretty damn horrible about fat.)
But what’s behind our failure to identify with and ally with each other is an even deeper, more basic failure of identification: our inability to see our fatness as a fundamental part of who we are. To own it. . Read the rest of this entry »
posted by meowser
Yes, it’s still on! My cold has more or less dried up, so I do plan to be there.
Date: Saturday, May 24
Time: 1 PM
Place: Voodoo Doughnut, 22 SW 3rd Avenue, PDX (just south of Burnside)
Please note: This place is CASH ONLY. But it’s cheap; doughnuts start at 80 cents and beverages start at $1 last I checked.
Street parking only (you will need quarters for the meters). There are also paid parking lots in Chinatown a few blocks north of Burnside. Taking mass transit is highly recommended; it’s near all the downtown bus routes (get out around Burnside) or about 6 or 7 blocks from the MAX light rail or Portland Streetcar.
No RSVP necessary, just show up if you want to. I’ll be leaving at about noon to head on over there, and I am one of those dinosaurs who leaves her Net access at home, so if you think you want to come but you’re iffy about time of arrival, post a message here or E me (andeejr at gmail) and let me know what you think your arrival time range might be.
If the weather is nice, we can get our doughnuts and walk around; if not, we can huddle indoors. If you can’t or don’t want to eat doughnuts, that’s cool too; they probably won’t care if everyone orders, as long as some of us do. (Vegan doughnuts are available!)
Hope to see you there!
posted by meowser
I’ve been a bit under the weather the past couple of days, so my post-New York vacation report is a bit delayed. But, better late than never, nu?
Anyway, some quick notes, in no particular order of significance:
– Flying with a cold still suhhhhhcks. Two days after landing, my ears still hurt. Ow, ow, ow.
– John’s Pizzeria on Bleecker Street is still droolworthy after all these decades. Even a plain pie is a gastronomic delight — perfect crispy thin-but-foldable crust, smokily flavored tomato sauce (were those San Marzanos? eep!) and mozzarella, ahhhh. Once I’ve had coal oven pizza, I want no other for a very long time. I understand the ecological reasons we’ll never get to have it in Portland, but I reserve my right to pump saliva over it.
– Next time I leave town, the upstairs futon is getting a kittyproof slipcover. ‘Nuff said. (BINKLEY I KNOW IT WAS YOU, YOU BAD BOY!)
– Lee Lee’s Valise is everything Fillyjonk said it was, and more. This plus-sized Brooklyn boutique is an absolute must visit if you are ever in New York. Don’t worry, not everything there costs an arm and three boobs, although undoubtedly some things do (and if you’ve got the dough they’re worth it, dayyyum). Lisa, the owner, put this place together with such style, such passion, for clothing the full-figured form, it steals my breath in entirely the right way. And yes, as The Rotund already told you, shopping with such an extraordinary group of brilliant, talented, witty, and yet unbelievably NICE (and body-accepting!) fat chicks — TR, FJ, Kate Harding, Fatshionista Lesley, Substantia Jones, and blog-friend Karen — was just four-handkerchief FABULOUS, something I’d never come close to having before. Seriously, y’all might just have saved my damn life. (Yes, everything you think they are, they really ARE, and then some!)
– Much to my relief, the minor weight loss I incurred after discontinuing Effexor was noticed by absolutely no one in my family. (Only my mom, who was visiting the city, knew about it, because I felt I should tell her before she bought me any more clothing for a present.) Nor did my dad push Weight Watchers on me, although I couldn’t help but grok that Mr. Can’t-Eat-That-Too-Many-Chemicals-In-It was now consuming tortilla chips made with the dreaded Olestra (ewwww!) to “save points” (double ewwww!). He swore it didn’t make him poop his undershorts or anything. Whew, that’s a relief.
And…there was a great moment when we all (Dad, stepmom, C., and I) went out to dinner and the subject of deep-fried Twinkies came up somehow (oh, it was probably me). The following dialogue then ensued:
Dad: “Yeah, well, there’s an epidemic of…”
Stepmom (who’s about a size 16 or thereabouts): “An epidemic of WHAT?”
Me: “Yeah, what?”
Dad: “Uh…an epidemic of people eating really nasty things.”
SCORE!
P.S. He still doesn’t know about this blog. I don’t think he really wants to know.
posted by fatfu
Two small, otherwise unnoticed posts on YouTube. Both from today. Nothing earth-shattering, but they got my attention. I thought I’d share.
Fat-bashing from the inside of the car:
OK, it’s ableist, but even so. Can somebody give this girl a scholarship or something?
posted by meowser
Once upon a time, before there was a Fatosphere, I was addicted to Pandagon. And most especially, to the writings of one Amanda Marcotte. She was funny, sassy, irreverent, and most of all, she had the thing that I so desperately wished I had — swagger.
Ah, swagger, the deep down feeling that you’re so right about everything, that you really are fundamentally all that and a 20-pound box of Macadamia nuts, and that that swagger was based on real, genuine talent and artistry (and popularity for same), not just Being Young and Looking Hawwwt. (Mind you, I really have no idea if Amanda actually does or ever did feel that way about herself, but for the purposes of what I am exploring here, it’s largely irrelevant.) I wanted that so, so much. I thought that if I read enough Amanda, some of that swagger of hers would rub off on me. I would learn the “good” way to walk, talk, and carry myself. She believed all women should get to have that feeling of cockiness, even women who were fat and dorky and clumsy. Didn’t she? Read the rest of this entry »
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