QI is a panel game here in the UK and it's led by the always adorable and very funny Stephen Fry, who is one of my heroes. He's gay but for much of my childhood he always seemed to describe himself as 'celibate' or something, and it's only recently that he seems to be out and proud. The panellists rib him gently about it and he always takes it in very good humour. I like the programme - it's basically a quiz show but you get points taken off for giving an 'obvious' answer and are given points for being Quite Interesting. The panellists are usually comedians, and it's usually one of my favourite programmes.
Insert Jo Brand. Jo Brand is a comedienne who I'd actually like to BE when I grow up, please. I think she's very funny, and she's not too self-deprecating, but she's willing to poke fun at herself. She's fat, and she's funny. If you're thinking Dawn French you're not too far off, but she's more feminist and less likely to bury herself in black smocks, but there we are. She was accused of being a lesbian for years, and she can be a bit manhating at times. She seems to have mellowed in recent years though and she regularly turns up on these panel shows.
(She also turned up on Trinny & Susannah's "What Not To Wear" a few years ago and she was singularly unimpressed as they hoisted her into clothes and underwear, as is their wont, but she did admit that she looked better with a proper bra supporting her bosom.)
Now, QI has a running joke of giving funny 'buzzer' sounds for each panellist, usually geared towards the panellist him/herself, and usually the joke is on Alan Davies to have a funny sound. He devised QI with Stephen Fry and he's on every episode, and he's usually failing at it and giving the 'obvious' answers and ends up with -10,000 points or something.
Tonight, though, Jo's buzzer sound rubbed me up the wrong way. It was a loud beeping noise, and a woman's voice saying "Warning, vehicle reversing".
Is it just me? Who thinks that, as a fat woman, Jo has probably heard that as a taunt before in her life? That she might be a little sensitive about it?
Maybe she said it was okay. Maybe she didn't think of it. Maybe no one else did either.
But I think it was a joke too far, and I am saddened on Jo's behalf.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
This is what 44G looks like
My boobs, when supported only by a very skimpy stretchy lingerie camisole. I would love to have the confidence to wear it out of the house with a bra underneath. It's not the boobs I have an issue with - it's the dreaded arm jiggle. Still, this time last year I wouldn't even wear a short sleeved top without feeling self-conscious, so maybe this time next year I'll be wearing this in the streets!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
I like my body when it is with your body
While I've been on this path of Fat Acceptance for a while now, it's only in the past year that I realised that it was an actual movement and that others felt the same way. I've never really been the type of girl to complain about loud about what I thought was wrong with my body, even though I might have thought it at times. So my husband has probably never heard me say anything negative about my body.
When I met JD, when he was all of 18 years old, he weighed about 8 stone wet through, and was skinny. This was largely due to the fact that he walked everywhere - where he's from is very rural, and he didn't want to learn to drive. It sure as hell wasn't due to his diet, which, frankly, sucked. My mother and I taught him how to a) cook b) appreciate a wider range of stuff and c) to actually eat vegetables. Since he learnt to drive and got a desk job, he has put on weight. Plus, he's not 18 anymore. Personally, I couldn't care less - I think he's incredibly hot. (I could wax rhapsodical about his body, but I won't, but suffice to say: I think he's hot). About six months ago he started complaining that he felt fat, that he needed to lose weight, etc etc.
And I said nothing. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to do. But I didn't want to argue, and I also wasn't sure what positive things he would actually believe. Every time his mother sees him (once every two months at most) she tells him he's put on weight. I bite my tongue and think no, actually he hasn't. Not since last time you commented on it, anway. Maybe I should say something to her. Maybe those negative comments are hurting him much more than I realise? As an aside, what would you say? To him or to her?
A couple of months ago we finally had enough money for him to join my gym. Before we went on holiday he was going 5 nights a week. That's way more than I go - I average 2.5, probably. While we were away we ate healthily, we swam a ton and we walked quite far, so personally I don't feel like I'm any more unhealthy than before we went. But JD does. On Sunday, he started whinging at me about the gym and about how he was going to go "every night this week".
I asked why. Because he needs to get rid of his stomach, he said. Why, I asked. Because it's awful, he said. I like it, I said. I like everything about your body.
Yeah, he said. I like everything about yours. But you don't like yours.
Yes I do, I shrugged.
He looked at me like I'd just spoken Swahili to him. Really? he asked.
Yes, I said. I like my body.
Oh, he said. I just like mine when it's with yours.
I told him about the e. e. cummings line that I've put in the title of this post. I told him that I liked my body when it was with his for sure, but that I liked it independently, too.
I got dressed and watched him think about it.
I really hope my message can get through.
When I met JD, when he was all of 18 years old, he weighed about 8 stone wet through, and was skinny. This was largely due to the fact that he walked everywhere - where he's from is very rural, and he didn't want to learn to drive. It sure as hell wasn't due to his diet, which, frankly, sucked. My mother and I taught him how to a) cook b) appreciate a wider range of stuff and c) to actually eat vegetables. Since he learnt to drive and got a desk job, he has put on weight. Plus, he's not 18 anymore. Personally, I couldn't care less - I think he's incredibly hot. (I could wax rhapsodical about his body, but I won't, but suffice to say: I think he's hot). About six months ago he started complaining that he felt fat, that he needed to lose weight, etc etc.
And I said nothing. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to do. But I didn't want to argue, and I also wasn't sure what positive things he would actually believe. Every time his mother sees him (once every two months at most) she tells him he's put on weight. I bite my tongue and think no, actually he hasn't. Not since last time you commented on it, anway. Maybe I should say something to her. Maybe those negative comments are hurting him much more than I realise? As an aside, what would you say? To him or to her?
A couple of months ago we finally had enough money for him to join my gym. Before we went on holiday he was going 5 nights a week. That's way more than I go - I average 2.5, probably. While we were away we ate healthily, we swam a ton and we walked quite far, so personally I don't feel like I'm any more unhealthy than before we went. But JD does. On Sunday, he started whinging at me about the gym and about how he was going to go "every night this week".
I asked why. Because he needs to get rid of his stomach, he said. Why, I asked. Because it's awful, he said. I like it, I said. I like everything about your body.
Yeah, he said. I like everything about yours. But you don't like yours.
Yes I do, I shrugged.
He looked at me like I'd just spoken Swahili to him. Really? he asked.
Yes, I said. I like my body.
Oh, he said. I just like mine when it's with yours.
I told him about the e. e. cummings line that I've put in the title of this post. I told him that I liked my body when it was with his for sure, but that I liked it independently, too.
I got dressed and watched him think about it.
I really hope my message can get through.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Slim Happy How?
There's a new Slim-Fast advert here in the UK that I've had the misfortune to catch about 17 times over the past couple of weeks. The first part is vomit-inducing enough, and then the new slogan just got me all riled up.
The advert has a pretty, curvy woman of about 30 shaking her thang all over. She sings a very annoying jingle, the second line of which is 'Now my jeans fit my booty'. Lady, if your jeans don't fit properly, just buy some bigger ones. The number on the label is not an indicator of your moral fibre. It does not make you intrinsically good or bad. It is just a number. I recently bought my first pair of jeans in about 6 years, and yeah, they probably are in a size I never thought I'd buy, but they're so comfortable, they make my arse look great, they're wide-legged and very cute, and they're 'indigo' and therefore match absolutely everything. I am comfortable in them, regardless of their size, and that's what important, not the arbitrary number in them.
The slogan at the end of the advert is even worse: Slim Happy Now. I was with a friend watching this, and I grunted in frustration. 'Even if someone slimmed right down,' I said, 'it doesn't mean they'll be happy'. It's buying into the Fantasy of Being Thin. It's believing that if only your body were different, so would your life be. I was ranting a little, I think, but to my surprise my friend agreed with me. 'Even if I was thinner I'd still be miserable,' she said. 'It wouldn't cure me.' And she's right, it wouldn't. But I'm far happier now that I've accepted my body for what it is right than berating myself for not fitting into society's ideal.
I think I object to the use of 'slim happy' almost as a verb. It's not 'be happy' or even 'get happy' but rather 'slim happy'. As if it's just that easy. Oh, but obviously, it is, since Slim Fast is peddling its latest diet food to you. Silly me.
The advert has a pretty, curvy woman of about 30 shaking her thang all over. She sings a very annoying jingle, the second line of which is 'Now my jeans fit my booty'. Lady, if your jeans don't fit properly, just buy some bigger ones. The number on the label is not an indicator of your moral fibre. It does not make you intrinsically good or bad. It is just a number. I recently bought my first pair of jeans in about 6 years, and yeah, they probably are in a size I never thought I'd buy, but they're so comfortable, they make my arse look great, they're wide-legged and very cute, and they're 'indigo' and therefore match absolutely everything. I am comfortable in them, regardless of their size, and that's what important, not the arbitrary number in them.
The slogan at the end of the advert is even worse: Slim Happy Now. I was with a friend watching this, and I grunted in frustration. 'Even if someone slimmed right down,' I said, 'it doesn't mean they'll be happy'. It's buying into the Fantasy of Being Thin. It's believing that if only your body were different, so would your life be. I was ranting a little, I think, but to my surprise my friend agreed with me. 'Even if I was thinner I'd still be miserable,' she said. 'It wouldn't cure me.' And she's right, it wouldn't. But I'm far happier now that I've accepted my body for what it is right than berating myself for not fitting into society's ideal.
I think I object to the use of 'slim happy' almost as a verb. It's not 'be happy' or even 'get happy' but rather 'slim happy'. As if it's just that easy. Oh, but obviously, it is, since Slim Fast is peddling its latest diet food to you. Silly me.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
A Rant About Channel 4
I had the misfortune to catch a programme on Channel 4 the other night that really riled me. I was waiting for Shameless (which, by the way, is like, my life in a lot of ways. Oh and they had a very believable Infertility story in Series 3) to come on, and JD was out, so I left the TV on after I got off the phone. Now, I like Channel 4. There are five terrestial channels here, although 5 hasn't been around that long. Channel 4 was launched the year I was born, I believe - 1984. While I was growing up it was always a bit anarchic. Recently it's turned into just showing The Simpsons, Friends and Big fecking Brother, but there we go. I like it. I have a lot of time for it. But. Maybe not after this.
The programme I saw was The Diets That Time Forgot. Now, reading the site it becomes obvious that the programme is supposed to be about helping some overweight volunteers to lose weight by using diets that are about a hundred years old. I think there were 9 volunteers following three diets - the Banting diet, the 'chew-chew' diet and the "first calorie counting Lulu diet" of the 1920s.
I wouldn't mind so much if this programme had included people of all sizes* and had been something of a social commentary on how much eating habits had changed in the past hundred years. But it wasn't, it was more of a 'Let's look at the fat person and laugh at them' kind of thing. Like a LOLfattie, almost. They were forced into things that would have been humiliating for anyone - squeezed into corsets, made to sit in baths of freezing cold water, etc etc. It's no surprise that one man chose to leave. He was on the programme because he felt self-conscious about his stomach, and this was reinforced by statements about how no woman found him attractive (I did, by the way. I thought he was very cute).
*And indeed of all races - the sole person of colour seemed to be treated like something of a circus attraction, and there were more than a few disparaging remarks about her arse.
The Institute Director was an insufferable little man who was convinced that if only he could teach these fatties some self-control, everything would be okay. He stated time and again that it wasn't diets that failed, but rather the people doing them. He annoyed me enormously, but he wasn't the worst thing about the programme.
The first worst thing was when the volunteers were given a rigorous exercise programme. "Oh," laughed one woman, "I haven't done any exercise since I left school." Everyone else, including the Director, laughed too, knowingly. Because, you know, obviously fat people never do any exercise.
The second thing was when the Director (just saying that is giving me 1984 type creeps, by the way) set up a table of treats, including chocolate eclairs, cream scones and bottles of beer. The volunteers, he said, could take anything off it, as long as they were first prepared to do enough exercise to work off those calories. If anyone dropped out of the exercise, the entire group would forfeit their treats. "I would be very surprised," he said solely to the camera, "if anyone can resist these." Because, obviously, fat people have no self-control and can't resist cream cakes and alcohol.
Get real.
I sincerely recommend that anyone with half a brain just avoids this programme altogether. What a piece of crap.
The programme I saw was The Diets That Time Forgot. Now, reading the site it becomes obvious that the programme is supposed to be about helping some overweight volunteers to lose weight by using diets that are about a hundred years old. I think there were 9 volunteers following three diets - the Banting diet, the 'chew-chew' diet and the "first calorie counting Lulu diet" of the 1920s.
I wouldn't mind so much if this programme had included people of all sizes* and had been something of a social commentary on how much eating habits had changed in the past hundred years. But it wasn't, it was more of a 'Let's look at the fat person and laugh at them' kind of thing. Like a LOLfattie, almost. They were forced into things that would have been humiliating for anyone - squeezed into corsets, made to sit in baths of freezing cold water, etc etc. It's no surprise that one man chose to leave. He was on the programme because he felt self-conscious about his stomach, and this was reinforced by statements about how no woman found him attractive (I did, by the way. I thought he was very cute).
*And indeed of all races - the sole person of colour seemed to be treated like something of a circus attraction, and there were more than a few disparaging remarks about her arse.
The Institute Director was an insufferable little man who was convinced that if only he could teach these fatties some self-control, everything would be okay. He stated time and again that it wasn't diets that failed, but rather the people doing them. He annoyed me enormously, but he wasn't the worst thing about the programme.
The first worst thing was when the volunteers were given a rigorous exercise programme. "Oh," laughed one woman, "I haven't done any exercise since I left school." Everyone else, including the Director, laughed too, knowingly. Because, you know, obviously fat people never do any exercise.
The second thing was when the Director (just saying that is giving me 1984 type creeps, by the way) set up a table of treats, including chocolate eclairs, cream scones and bottles of beer. The volunteers, he said, could take anything off it, as long as they were first prepared to do enough exercise to work off those calories. If anyone dropped out of the exercise, the entire group would forfeit their treats. "I would be very surprised," he said solely to the camera, "if anyone can resist these." Because, obviously, fat people have no self-control and can't resist cream cakes and alcohol.
Get real.
I sincerely recommend that anyone with half a brain just avoids this programme altogether. What a piece of crap.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
What I Am Eating
The Rotund had an awesome post about how she might write about exactly what Intuitive Eating looked like for her - by documenting what she had been eating. As she says, it seems to get a lot of airtime in blogs because fat people are constantly been accused of lying about how much they eat and/or how much they exercise. For example, a lot of people I know (including my husband's superthin family) can't believe I go to the gym three times a week. They can't even believe that someone like me would join a gym. Not only did I join it but I use it regularly and I actually really enjoy it. So few people use the swimming pool that it's like having a pool of my own! To swim in! And there's Jacuzzis! Those heated bubbly things are amazing!
Yesterday we had curry. We're both very into curries. So is much of the rest of Britain. It's sometimes said that chicken tikka masala (although not an authentic Indian dish) is Britain's national dish. I actually agree with that. Anyway, today we're having curry as well. Chicken thighs, marinaded in sauce and baked. With rice, and a naan bread each. Delicious.
Already today I have eaten Rice Krispies with sugar and semi-skimmed milk, which I really like. I don't like full-cream milk, I find it too cloying. I had a turkey sandwich at lunch with cucumber and mayonnaise. I have an Easter egg from JD sitting next to me but I think I'll save it.
What are you eating today? Was it delicious? Did it reflect your true loves or was it merely convenient?
Yesterday we had curry. We're both very into curries. So is much of the rest of Britain. It's sometimes said that chicken tikka masala (although not an authentic Indian dish) is Britain's national dish. I actually agree with that. Anyway, today we're having curry as well. Chicken thighs, marinaded in sauce and baked. With rice, and a naan bread each. Delicious.
Already today I have eaten Rice Krispies with sugar and semi-skimmed milk, which I really like. I don't like full-cream milk, I find it too cloying. I had a turkey sandwich at lunch with cucumber and mayonnaise. I have an Easter egg from JD sitting next to me but I think I'll save it.
What are you eating today? Was it delicious? Did it reflect your true loves or was it merely convenient?
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Look, a -
10dpo. POAS. Negative. Little bit heartbroken. I really thought - I don't know why - I really thought we had a chance this cycle.
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