PC Philosophical Debate

Let's talk about the "F" word for a moment or two. I do not refer to that wonderful catch-all noun, verb, and sometimes adjective that isn't welcome on television or radio lest the FCC stamp you unsuitable and slap you with an enormous fine. I'm talking about FAT. I've used it here before, and plenty, but an article about its acceptance and the increase of obesity-hugging blogs read yesterday had me rethinking.

It's pretty taboo (even in this country) to point at someone and call them fat. Perhaps you whisper to your friends, or make pointed looks in their direction, but if you're going to refer to someone, the polite way to phrase it is "overweight," "heavy," "obese," "thick," or if you're 5'3", 200 lbs, and living in a fantasy world, "chubby." We've even made up pleasant acronyms (BBW) so that the fat women of the world can date without having to describe themselves as anything of the above, or lie and call themselves simply "curvy." But we who are (or were) fat seem to deem ourselves allowed to use the word. A difficult comparison, but not unlike African Americans and the N word, or Lesbians and the D word (incidentally I felt myself grandfathered in on that one because of my Mom), we feel entitled to call that F word our own and berate or compliment ourselves with its affectation.

There's a whole "FATOSPHERE" of fat acceptance websites, articles, and blogs out there of people who are tired of dieting, tired of people expecting them to conform to a size 4, or even 12, and just want to be loved and accepted the way they are. I used to be a pseudo-member myself. After all, what self-respecting person with decent self-esteem wants to go around feeling like shit about themselves all the time? Nobody.

But when you're verging on taking up the space of two people, can't fit properly into the rides at amusement parks, can't sit in a theatre without encroaching on the people on either side of you, can't ride in an airplane without a seat belt extender, or visit a buffet without all eyes on your choices, or even go up a flight of stairs without sweating like a buffalo, where do you draw the line between empowerment and denial?

My mother, at her heaviest (perhaps 280 or 290 and 5'1") would tell me when I asked her about losing weight that it took her 30+ years to accept herself as she was and she wasn't going to let anyone else make her feel badly about herself. A noble thought at first glance, but it also inhibited her from ever trying to do anything about it. She loved her food, her butter and salt on everything and would manage to find her size 24/26 pants somewhere. My entire childhood I was both deeply embarrassed and incredibly saddened by my mother's weight. I felt like in some way her weight problem was partly mine and my sister's fault because of our burden on her as a single mother. She only managed to lose weight when hit with the disease that would eventually kill her.

At my heaviest (which I won't divulge here in numbers, but suffice it to say was FAT), I wrote a brief commentary that was published in the Best of Salon Table Talk section. It was an enumerated treatise of sorts in support of those who were fat- that diets and exercise did not work for everyone- and the portion of the population that were genetically "blessed" with the extra weight should not be ostracized like a Calcutta leper colony. It also contained a list of things which made being fat intolerable, unhealthy, and not something to be celebrated.

When I read the words of Kate Harding in the Fatosphere, I know she has some good points. Not everyone with a BMI of 35 is unhealthy, no matter what the articles may indicate. There are a lot of factors at play.

But I also know that it wasn't until I could give myself an honest look in the mirror that change was possible.