20 - Fabulous: The New Fat

I’m sure you’ve noticed it. I have before today, but it really struck me this time. Recently I’ve been seeing an ad on the subways for Reitmans, a women’s clothing store that carries plus sizes. The woman in the picture is ostensibly plus sized. The copy next to her reads “Comes in small, medium and fabulous.”

I know I’m supposed to feel all special and empowered by this declaration of my fabulousness as a plus sized woman, but I just feel sort of condescended to.

Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty has also used this particular trick. Some time ago they had billboards up around the city showing the image of a woman and two descriptive words. The public was invited to e-mail in their opinion of which word was more accurate. For example, one was a very freckled woman and the listed options were “ugly spots” or “beauty spots.” The options on the billboard I’m thinking of were “fat” or “fab.”

Understandably advertisers are not going to touch a word like fat, and all its negative connotations, with a ten foot pole, unless they are positioning it next to a more positive word—like fabulous. I get that it’ll probably be a while until we’re able to unpack a word like “fat” and allow it to just be a descriptor of size rather than an attack on character. It’s just odd that in a culture apparently suffering an epidemic of obesity we still can’t manage to find a way to talk about size that doesn’t make it feel like we’re avoiding swearing. Instead we’re busy re-claiming and disowning and doing everything in our power to avoid using the word fat.

The Reitmans ad verges on being confusing because the woman pictured is so very close to being a regular size. In fact, she very likely is a “regular” size. Barbara Brickner—one of the most famous plus size models in the industry—is a size 12. Whitney Thompson, winner of cycle 10 of America’s Next Top Model is considered a plus size model, and her size fluctuates between 8 and 10. I guess fair is fair—regular models are laughably unlike real women, so I guess the same goes for plus size models. My point is that the women used for plus size advertising are so normal looking if they’re not placed next to a “regular” model that it can actually be confusing. I wondered at first if the ad was just indicating that clothes at Reitmans also come in large or extra large. It took an extra second for me to make the connection that fabulous was a euphemism for plus.

As it is, fabulous is a word that has been squeezed of all its original meaning anyway. It seems to be the word people use when they want to describe a situation, item or person they actually find far from fabulous while still leaving everyone’s feelings intact. In fact, I’m sort of suspect of someone the minute they use the word. I start to immediately doubt their sincerity about everything that they say. And maybe that’s what I’m keying into in the ad. I don’t actually believe these advertisers think plus sized women are fabulous at all.

The Dove ads use the word in a different way. They clearly buy into all the bad connotations of the word fat because the woman pictured cannot apparently be fat and fabulous—she must be one or the other. Well frankly, given advertising beauty standards, she kind of has to be both. She’s a great looking woman who is quite well proportioned and bigger than average (at least for a model): fabulous and fat.

Both ads leave me with the impression of a sort of whitewash; a complete negation of fat people from advertising existence. We’ll either be acknowledged in euphemisms or not at all because apparently some of us can be too fabulous to even be fat. I’m pretty sure that I don’t fall into that category.

I’m not sure I’m ready for the word fat to be used in advertising. I think even I’m too painfully aware of all the baggage that word brings with it and I don’t know that I’d want to identify with an ad campaign that used the word. But it seems like fabulous doesn’t quite do the job either. Some clothing manufacturers have made an art form of referring to plus sizes and the advertising industry could probably get some pointers. I wouldn’t recommend all the things I’ve seen on clothing labels in my time—“Above Average” and “Encore” are some of the more amusing ones that come to mind—but there just has to be a better way. I mean, it would be nice if we could just say, “this clothing line comes in plus sizes” or “this woman is, incidentally, both fat and conventionally attractive (i.e. you don’t have a have a raging fat fetish to think she’s cute).” Clearly I’m not the person who should be writing this ad copy, but you get what I mean.

I’ve heard it said that advertising doesn’t set trends, it follows them and in these cases I think that rings true. As a culture we haven’t figured out a way to engage with fatness that isn’t mostly about dripping condescension, judgment or fetishism, and I think it might be a while before we do. It’d be nice though, if advertisers managed to get out ahead of the trend for once.

19 - Whatever Happened To...

I’ve been sick every day of the past two weeks save about three days, so this will be a short one. I know you’ll all weep tonight.

Those of you who are possessed of great memory may have a vague recollection of two Weight Watchers members who agreed to let me have a peek into their progress for a year. Well in my blogging hiatus the year mark came and went and I let the assignment lapse, much to my shame. When they both “unfriended” me on Facebook, my disgrace continued. When I got an “unsubscribe” request regarding the blog from one, I knew I’d really blown it.

I did manage to follow up with both of them around the four and a half month mark and both were gracious enough to at least let me know where they were at with the program now. So on those two things, I shall report. However I won’t attach names to experiences since they aren’t really on board at this point.

One of the participants had to leave the program by the four month mark because of a serious health issue. At this point, she continues to struggle with this issue and so far cannot go back to the program. She’s on a special diet presently, the goal of which is to control the illness that she’s dealing with, so Weight Watchers is just not an option. In our last contact, however, she did express the hope that at some point she would be able to meld her special medical diet with Weight Watchers because she had really enjoyed the supportive environment of the program.

The other participant kept an online journal for some time, which made it nice and easy for me to follow her progress (and still I managed to suck at keeping on top of it). At the point when I checked back in with both participants in July of 2008, she had been on the program about 9 ½ months and had lost 7.8lbs (net). When I checked back with her recently she said she was no longer on the program, but I don’t actually know if she reached her goal in the end or not. Unfortunately, when someone is asking to be unsubscribed it seems indelicate to ask too many questions.

So my less than scientific sample in this case didn’t work out so well, but here’s to better-conducted experiments in the future. There’s a Jenny Craig centre just a door over from my apartment building. Perhaps I can recruit some people there!

18 - My Fat Friend

Recently I lost a friend. Not in the traditional sense, but a shift in her life has occurred that has precipitated a slight shift in our relationship. As a result she no longer fills a specific role in my life: that of the “fat friend.”

The woman in question happens to be my sister, my closest sibling and probably my closest friend. Now to clarify, because I managed to offend the hell out of her with my shorthand, I don’t mean that she’s the fat friend who makes you feel so awesome about how you look because she looks worse. What I mean by “fat friend” is the person who affirms your decision not to work on your weight by their decision not to work on theirs. I didn’t care if our reasons for not working at it were the same; misery loves company and I enjoyed her company down here in the overweight trenches a great deal.

Allow me a little history if you will. My sister moved to Toronto in 2000, just after a family reunion. And at that family reunion a photo was taken. In it, the whole family is standing except the two of us; we’re seated and (I blame the camera angle now) neither of us looked our best. I remember feeling absolutely mortified at that picture when I saw it later. In fact, I’m fairly certain that photo precipitated my first foray into Weight Watchers. Soon after my sister’s move, she started the Jenny Craig program, and since then we’ve kind of mirrored each other in our weight gain and loss.

Over the past nine years, we’ve both yo-yo’d around and taken stabs at getting the weight issue under control. We did Myrtle Beach together last year in our belle grande bathing suits (though admittedly she was wearing one of my old “skinny” ones—I’ll always be the “big” little sister). Later that year we went home to attend an anniversary party for our parents and while her dress was way better than mine, we were both carrying more weight than we wanted to be at the time.

But now, all of this is about to change because my sister has signed up for Weight Watchers. While I have no great faith in the efficacy of the program, I know there are exceptions to the rule and it’s entirely conceivable that my sister will be one of them. Even in the worst case scenario that she isn’t the exception, I’m sure she’ll lose a significant amount of weight to begin with. She’s down about 6lbs after three weeks which is right on spec for the program. Assuming she continues to lose at this rate with no major setbacks, in six weeks she’ll be down 18lbs. That’s the kind of difference you can see—especially at another family event.

You got it. In a scant six weeks, we’ll both fly home for our mom’s 70^th birthday. All of my tall, thin brothers will be there. And this time I’ll be the only fat sibling.

Being with my family is emotionally exhausting at the best of times, but when I’m already stressed out, it’s hell on earth. Around my family I revert back to some out-of-control eighth grader begging to be understood, respected and listened to and it usually culminates with me having just the temper tantrum to prove that I’m still an out-of-control eighth grader who doesn’t deserve to be understood, respected or listened to. So yeah, that, on top of being the only fatty—not looking forward.

With all this in mind, I’ve begun to wonder if I have the wherewithal to be fat alone, not only with my family but everywhere else as well. Will I be able to calmly stand up to the well-intentioned (I like to think) prodding of certain family members to shed the pounds? Will I manage to enjoy what little I can of my family without worrying about how I look the entire time? Can I manage to not make the entire trip about my weight?

And out here in the real world, can I fight the temptation to change for shitty reasons? I’ve taken a long hiatus from working on my weight and it hasn’t just been the result of sheer laziness. In fact, it’s been a concrete decision based on, what I believe, to be a valid reason. Tempting though it is to do something drastic, I refuse to start another weight loss regimen that I don’t think is healthy or that I don’t see myself maintaining for life; and that nixes a lot of conventional programs. I won’t eat packaged Jenny Craig or NutriSystem food forever; I won’t spend the rest of my life running off to Dr. Bernstein to get shots in my ass; I won’t cut out carbs for the rest of my life; I won’t even count points and go to meetings a la Weight Watchers for the rest of my life. And so far at least, Paul McKenna can’t make me thin. So knowing my failure rate with at least one of these methods and my aversion to the rest of them, there’s little point in starting them. I’m sure I could lose weight in any one of these programs but the likelihood that I would keep it off is so low that I’m not willing to participate. I’ve done enough of the lose/gain cycle and I refuse to subject my body to it. Until I know I’m ready to deal with all my emotional triggers around food, I’m just not going to make some half-assed attempt. But in the mean time, I remain overweight and not terribly happy about it. And now there’s no one along for the ride. My human pillar of affirmation has left the building.

I guess I should be thankful that I’m so tired of the weight gain/loss treadmill because I haven’t been strongly tempted at all to do anything. I’ve had crazy thoughts of just starving myself until July 18, being trim for a weekend and then piling it all back on. But those are thoughts that remain nothing more than fucked up fantasies. So fat I am now, and fat I shall be on July 18.

There have been three positives in this though. The first is that I have quickly realized that my relationship with my sister will survive her losing weight without me; frankly I wasn’t sure I’d be able to be normal about it for a while there. The second is that I think she’s happier with herself and I basically just want my sister to be happy. The last is that I’ve been forced into the realization that I was never okay with not working at my weight in the first place. But what follows is not what you might anticipate.

Even with a friend along for the ride, I have been bound up in mess of self-loathing around my body that’s been pretty substantial and I hadn’t really been aware of how deep it went. I’ve never been in a place of acceptance about my weight but instead this terrible limbo; just waiting for the day when the rest of my life calms down enough to work on it and never really settling into this body in the mean time. Like moving into a house and never unpacking anything because you don’t plan to stay. In lieu of self-acceptance, I struck a deal with myself: it’s okay to not work at the weight as long as you hate yourself sufficiently for being overweight. And I’ve done a fabulous job at the hatred. Messed up, I realize.

So I’ve begun to wonder, can I just sit still and try to be happy at my present size? Can I manage to just work at accepting myself in the here and now, without a plan for the there and then? Can I refrain from continuing to disavowing all connection to this body? Can I stop thinking of my body and thus myself as something in need of major renovation?

I have a hope that being alone in this will make it easier to work on accepting myself on some basic level. It’s funny, but walking alone might lead to greater happiness.