Don’t Fuck with the Fat Kid
Last year I wrote a book about a group of kids who accidentally start a second American Revolution. In January, I was signed by a literary agent. And last week she accepted an offer on my behalf from one of the Big Six literary publishers.
My head is still reeling. My book will be published. So will its sequel because: two book offer. My most prominent thought over the last couple weeks has been “holy shit.”
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Thyroid Disease and Me
Trigger warning: Brief, clinical discussion of how hypothyroid treatment may lead to weight loss. Also brief mention of triggering ED thoughts.
I’ve had hypothyroidism for about ten years now, dating back to my last couple of years in high school. One problem is that it’s notoriously difficult for thyroid patients to get treatment because doctors use a test which measures the amount of thyroid stimulating hormone (TSH) in your blood, but decide to treat it at vastly different numbers ranging from 2.5 to 9.0.
Me? My TSH has ranged from 2.8 to 4.1 over those 10 years and it always happened with the wrong doctor at the time. Most docs tend to treat at a 3.0, so once it hit 4.1 I started actively seeking a doctor who would treat me. Who knew I would have to answer question after question about my weight? The first question medical professionals ask me, as a fat person with thyroid disease? “Do you have trouble losing weight?”
Did you just facepalm? I know I did.
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It’s Complicated
Trigger Warning: If you get car sick easily, you may not want to read this blog… it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!
It’s complicated.
No, I am not talking about my Facebook relationship status. I am talking about the world of Size Acceptance, health, fat, obesity, eating disorders, and my mind. Join me, if you dare, on the E ticket ride that is my brain. But you have been warned… there will be no neat, little, clever pat ending… just questions to consider.
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Juvenile Comedy
Let me just put it out there: I have disliked Tosh.0 from the start.
I find him nothing but mean-spirited, getting cheap laughs from teasing just about everyone he can. Many people think that since he is an “equal opportunity basher” his comedy is OK. I, however, find it is NOT funny to slam anybody or anything just to get “laughs.” He rips on blacks, stupid teens, fat people, the poor, ugly, etc. This time, though, he has simply gone TOO far.
Wednesday, I awoke and did my usual AM internet rounds to Yahoo!, Discovery News and then, finally, Facebook. I found out that this picture had been put up on his website, inviting his followers to write “funny” captions.
I was horrified that the picture was there. I was even MORE horrified by a handful of the hateful comments (out of 2,000 of them) like :
Beneath all of that skin is a beautiful vagina, waiting to be fucked….and waiting….and waiting
She’ll get picked up soon, I see a garbage truck coming.
Quick get me to occupy Wall Street, I hear they are raping people down there.
Never mind the rape and slut-shaming jokes, but the very worst thing was HOW they got this picture. It belongs to fat activist and artist Substantia Jones, and is a part of her Adipositivity Project.
This just makes my blood boil.
HOW DARE THEY!!!!
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Fat, Families, and Government Fear
Trigger warning: Discussion of a child whose mother tried to make him lose weight and the people who most recently made him lose weight.
Last November, the never-ending panic over childhood obesity was fueled further by the story of an 8 year-old Cleveland, Ohio boy who was taken away from his mother and placed into protective care by the Department of Children and Family Services because he weighed over 200 pounds. Medical experts who examined the child said his weight was not the result of a medical condition, but of poor diet. The mother, who said she was actively trying to decrease his weight to no avail, fought to keep her son and failed.
Following the story, it seemed everyone in the medical community and the media had an opinion on whether fat children should be taken away from their parents. While many agreed with the decision the DCFS made, many also thought it was wrong (although not for entirely altruistic reasons).
Well, just last week, that same third grade boy was returned to his mother after his weight decreased to 166 pounds (173 at the time the article was written). DCFS agreed to close their case and the mother’s lawyer was pleased, saying,
We are happy the county terminated protective services. We think the case was ill-advised. Our plan was to get him out of the system as soon as possible. This whole thing has been about his weight with no concern to his emotional state.
That’s something that a lot of us in this community always stress when it comes to fat shaming.
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I Hate Confrontations
About three weeks ago, I bought a new-to-me bicycle at a local resale shop. It’s a Schwinn 21 Speed Mountain bike. It’s a higher-end model, one with the shocks on both the front and rear axles and gear changers in the handle bars. It’s a sweet bike, and I’m looking forward to riding it.
When I bought it, it had two flat tires, and one of the tires had to be completely replaced because it was in that bad shape. Also, as it is a 21 speed (and the highest speed bike I’d ever owned before was a 10 speed), the hubby and I decided to take it to the nearest bike shop that does repairs and have it checked out. While Conall checked it out when we bought it (checked the gear change mechanism, brakes, the chain to make sure it wasn’t about to break, that type of thing), he hasn’t had a bike since the 1970s, and that was a 10 speed as well.
The bike was so inexpensive we figured that even if we had to invest $400 for it to be in tip top shape, I’d still be getting an awesome deal. And if we overlooked a major problem that would be too expensive to repair, we weren’t out anything.
So, a week after I bought the bike, I called the bike shop to see about taking it in. The bike shop had a two-week wait, and they could schedule me for an appointment for May 17, last Thursday. Of course, I made the appointment.
On Wednesday, Conall and I took the bike to the shop.
As soon as we walked in, we were greeted, which was nice. The young man at the front counter then engaged Conall in a discussion of the bike. Every time I said something, he ignored me. At one point he even talked over me so he could ask Conall a question, the answer of which I was already telling him. It wasn’t until the employee (referred to from now on as DE, for Douchebag Employee) saw that the appointment was in my name that he started to talk to me, and that was at the very end of the encounter.
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What’s Happenin’ —
It occurred to me that perhaps we need an introduction page for our little community for those who fall into our clutches without expectations, including our various policies that are scattered throughout our vast archives.
We’ve had a few people pop in who blurt out random bigotry and/or ignorance, and it may help the dimmer among us to stay focused if we installed some sort of How To manual to set expectations.
Let’s start with the name: why Fierce, Freethinking Fatties?
