Poetry Project: Geography of Stomach

LATEST POEM I LIKE FROM MY COLLECTION! Lots going on about an overweight nude painting that might make record sales for a living artist, but more to come on that another day. I’m to exhausted (don’t ask) to do it today.

Geography of Stomach

I.

A mountain-sized peak rises and falls

into the valley of my belly-button.

Carved by rivers, my stretch marks

gleam and glisten, wetly, textured smooth,

their ever-flowing expanse rippling

with the tide of my breathing.

II.

It is the moon, up close, craters—

dimples illuminated from a distance,

reflective in their pale sheen, (my skin)

translucent, dust-soft, and infinite—

fighting gravity, its every circular ellipse

shrouds it in empty space, it hides,

the far side no man will ever see.

III.

All my bits that jiggle are choreographed

when I laugh, a graceful earthquake,

epicenter belly-bent, the bulbous blissful moan

of laughter, sensual in the way its sinews dip,

a belly dance, colored silks alighting my

skin’s pinkish sheen, and freckles, like stars,

bare stomach’s only accoutrement. The cymbals

ching and all flesh accumulates, ripples,

and my folds exhume the earthquake’s aching core,

the laughter tatters from my mouth

and devastates, reverberating so deep

that lives are torn apart in its beauty.

Belly Dancing

Sorry that I’ve dropped off the face of the planet yet again. This weekend brought with it a Student Leadership Retreat on my campus, the celebration of one of my best friends’ birthdays, and a series of long conversations with various people. So now, I’ll just throw some stuff out there:

1. Thanks to everyone who watched my video! I’m glad I put it up! It’s been good to get so much feedback on it!

2. BFD Blog has a great post on the People Magazine’s Top 100 Beautiful People article, go check it out here.

3. I’m going to do my last documentary project for class about BELLY DANCING! Wooo! Hopefully there will be some body image stuff to talk about there! I’m super excited!

4. If you’re in need of a little bit of relaxation, check out this video from Planet Earth. It’s uplifting in it’s beauty.

5. Let me know in a comment what you’re reading/what’s new with you all! I haven’t had much time to browse lately, so…

FAT Documentary!!!

After a lot of trouble when it came to uploading my personal essay documentary to YouTube, here it finally is!! ENJOY! And please leave me all sorts of good comments telling me what you think!

Arg.

I want to respond to this article, but I don’t know if I can without writing a ten page paper. It’s all about how much money we’d save if no one were fat.

Ugh. It both makes me angry and gives me some hope. At the very end, the author recognizes weightism as a problem. But the rest of it is just begging for me to attack it.

Instead, because I know I can’t articulate myself, you read it, and tell me what you think. What made you the angriest? Was there any GOOD in it?

Made of Honor: the Fat Bridesmaid

Today, I went with my girlfriends to go see the new Patrick Dempsey movie, Made of Honor. Naturally, I was excited because Patrick Dempsey is just…beautiful. *sigh* Anywho, as the name and previews implies, the movie is My Best Friend’s Wedding-esque, though flip-flopped. Dempsey’s character ends up being the Maid of Honor for his best (female) friend.

Though the movie was good, I couldn’t quite get over one of the characters. One of the bridesmaids was a fat girl named Hilary. She’s short, but pretty, and obviously fat. The first scene we really see her in, the bridesmaids are discussing dress sizes. One goes, “I’m a 2.” and then Hilary says, “And I’m an 8.” The whole table pauses to look at her. The third bridesmaid (the tactful one), turns to Hilary and says, “You know, Hilary, wouldn’t you maybe be a bit more comfortable in, say, a 12?” Hilary then launches into how she’s doing this big liquid diet thing, and that she’s going to lose the weight (in nine days, mind) and look great in her dress, and snatch up a sexy sexy man at the wedding.

How many problems do I have with this scene?

1. She’s beautiful as is. She doesn’t need to lose weight. This is the inherent problem.

2. In my opinion, she wouldn’t even fit into a size 12. She looks a little bigger than that. I’d say she were at least a 16. This is a problem because she is downsized for no reason. What’s wrong with calling her what she is? And doesn’t that present a negative body image for women?

3. She thinks she’ll lose a significant amount of weight on a crash diet, and it’s just so she can look good for a man. First, she’s wrong, she’d never lose that much. Second, why the hell can’t men see her as beautiful as she is?

4. The other girls seem to have no problem with it. Yes, they’re skeptical of the result, but it’s natural. They don’t slap her and say “WAKE UP HONEY!” nor do they say “You’re fine just the way you are. Don’t you dare torture yourself like that.” It’s just…sad.

Throughout the rest of the movie, Patrick Dempsey is constantly asking her to eat something, and half the time she’s acting like she’s about to faint from lack of food (!). Ummm, can we say EATING DISORDER IN PROGRESS? Help the poor girl!

Then, finally, when they’re at the wedding, the bridesmaids have a whole minute or so long scene of trying to squeeze her into the dress. They eventually succeed, and she’s all relieved. Then, as soon as they sit down at the wedding, the dress pops at a seam, and all the men lend her safety pins from their kilts for her to pin the seam back together. To be honest, I was embarrassed by that whole bit. It made me feel uncomfortable and angry, and made me not want to watch the movie. I don’t know if I can express why. Maybe out of empathy for poor Hilary, or maybe because I felt for all fat women, I just was extremely angry at this portrayal of the fat girl. This is all we knew of her. She’s just the fat bridesmaid who needs to starve herself so she can get a man.

Ugh. I’m really sick of that. And I feel like I’m uber aware of it because it’s always on my mind. How are fat people really portrayed in the media? Considering my post on Spanglish, and now this post, I think we can see. We become ashamed of them, sad for them, pity them. What message does that send to our women and girls? To our entire society.

Let’s make more Hairspray type movies, eh?

Oh, the irony.

Er. It might be irony. I’m still a little fuzzy on the definition… ^_^

But anyway. I stumbled an article. New Views in Desert Culture on Fat Women. Let me quote some relevant bits for you. I’m having a hard time deciding which ones to pick, so you should really go read the whole thing. It’s not very long.

Mey Mint struggles to carry her weight up the flight of stairs, her thighs shaking with each step. It will take several minutes for the 50-year-old to catch her breath, air hissing painfully in and out of her chest. Her rippling flesh is not the result of careless overeating, though, but rather of a tradition.

In Mauritania, to make a girl big and plump, ‘gavage’ _ a borrowed French word from the practice of fattening of geese for foie gras _ starts early. Obesity has long been the ideal of beauty, signaling a family’s wealth in a land repeatedly wracked by drought.

Mint was 4 when her family began to force her to drink 14 gallons of camel’s milk a day. When she vomited, she was beaten. If she refused to drink, her fingers were bent back until they touched her hand. Her stomach hurt so much she prayed all the animals in the world would die so that there would be no more milk.

By the time Mint was 10, she could no longer run. Unconcerned, her proud mother delighted in measuring the loops of fat hanging under her daughter’s arms.

“My mother thinks she made me beautiful. But she made me sick,” says Mint, who suffers from weight-related illnesses including diabetes and heart disease. She asked that her full last name not be disclosed because she feels embarrassed.

OKay. This is the intro, more or less. In the first paragraph, it’s obvious Mint is not healthy. She sounds kinda like me after I’ve had to run for a little bit. The only difference is that I’m skinny. Therefore I can’t possibly be unhealthy.

Gavage: fattening geese for fois gras. Um…yeah… Look, I’m a little bit at a loss for words. I’ll see if I can make this coherent.

Mint is not healthy. But it’s not because she’s obese. It’s because she’s been FORCEFED SINCE SHE WAS FOUR YEARS OLD. I wonder if it ever occurred to the authors of this article that there’s very little difference between societal pressure to overeat and societal pressure to undereat - both to meet unattainable/unrealistic beauty “ideals.” Probably not.

And please don’t get me started on how it’s only ever women that have to do all this ridiculous shit to themselves to be “beautiful.” I… It will make me start swearing again.

Also, in the last paragraph of the above quoted chunk, they say that diabetes and heart disease are “weight-related illnesses.” Correct me if I’m wrong (actually you can’t, because I’m right), but I seem to recall Kate Harding mentioning frequently that there is pretty much exactly ZERO correlation between obesity and those diseases. Genetics and things like smoking, on the other hand…

To end the brutal feeding practices, the government has launched a TV and radio campaign highlighting the health risks of obesity. Because most Mauritanian love songs describe the ideal woman as fat, the health ministry commissioned catchy odes to thin women.

Couldn’t we have an ode to healthy women? Please? Because I’m sorry. Force-feeding camel’s milk is just as brutal as starving oneself. I’d really prefer that Mauritania didn’t just exchange one set of unhealthy beauty “ideals” for ours.

BLIND IMPOTENT RAGE

I saw this on facebook today. First reaction: “Seriously? Fuck.” Second reaction: “JigglyBits post.”

Considered reaction:

Okay, right. First, bending over? It makes your skin and tissues fold. Seriously. No, I’m not kidding, try it out sometime. Second, if her pants really are too small for her, maybe you should stop making her feel like she has to fit into a certain size clothing so that she actually buys pants that fit her. Go read Kate Harding already. Third, is your tagline actually, “Ew. Disgusting.”? Really? Because, wow. I… Wow. Fuck you. No, seriously. Fuck you, you fucking asshole, for your fucking judgements, your fucking ad, and your fucking privilege, entitlement and all-around fucking assholery. Fourth, oh wait, did you mean disgusting because she’s not rail-thin? Oh. Sorry, I guess that’s okay then. Because, you know, people should always try to look exactly the same and exactly how someone else (usually an asshole) tells them to look.

Text cannot properly convey the level of rage coursing through my veins right now. Stop the planet, I want to get off.

Fat Day

I’ve been extremely busy lately, and therefore very stressed, which in turn has made me feel pretty icky about myself. I’ve come to accept the fact that no matter how self-confident I feel, there will be days that I am going to hate my body, hate my fat, and think I’m ugly. It’s like a bad hair day. Today I had a bad fat day. I feel fat and ugly, like my pants don’t fit, and like everyone is judging me for being so heavy. I consumed a ton of cookies in the Cafeteria in honor of my bad fat day, and that just made me feel fatter. I think I hit bottom a bit today.

But, I realized it didn’t control my day. Yes, the few moments I’ve had to myself, I’ve felt gross and ugly, but I still had a ton of fun with my friends (playing Soul Calibur, the best video game on the planet), I still had a great Documentary class (where we met a great filmmaker, Kirsten Kelly), and I still got a lot done. I think it’s okay for me to have these days, and recognize them. Working through them will only make me stronger, right?

So, today’s a bad fat day. But tomorrow, is Fun Cone Friday! I’m on the Junior Graduation Committee at my university and tomorrow we’re having our first fundraiser–we’re selling sno cones in front of the library for only 50 cents a piece! It’ll be great! I’m both nervous and excited about it (because I volunteered to set up the whole thing), and I hope it’ll make us some money for our efforts. Yay!

And then, it’s the weekend, when I’ll have time to edit my documentary project and hang out with my friends! Who’s excited!

So, tomorrow will be a better day. That’s all I’m thinking about today. Tomorrow will be better.

Poetry Project: To the Big Girl

Hi all, here’s the second poem that I’ve actually liked in my poetry collection. I have another to post soon, but it needs a bit of work. I’ve been writing two a week, and not posting them here because I haven’t liked them enough. But this one I like a lot. Here it is!

To the Big Girl

You gotta gimme a shimmy, honey, with those hips so damn wide, and that languorous shaking bowl of jelly behind, you gotta gimme a wiggle, girly, flaunt what you got, waves instead of angles, sweet sugary S’s down your sides, give a giggle, babe, flirt with yourself, the flop and flounce of your skin don’t bother me, you got the jiggle down, that smooth whisper in your body, you got the roundness to bend my will, and the shape to satisfy, you know you gotta be a sexy thing, your plus size makin’ more for me to love, more to take and have, you gotta gimme a little, honey, let me have a bit of you, sweet as honey, you got more viscosity than syrup, open up to me, sugar, you know I want what you got, and if you laugh for me, gimme a smile, you know you won my heart, baby, you gotta flash those pearly whites and invite me to you, you got so much workin’ for you, more than most, you’re thick and juicy sweet, so gimme a shimmy, lover, cause I wanna go big.

Spanglish

I’m watching the movie “Spanglish” right now on TBS. One of the first scenes in the movie, which establishes the characters consists of the mother, Deb, and the daughter, Bernice. Deb comes home with huge bags full of clothes for Bernice, and Bernice, all excited, starts trying on all the clothes. Immediately, it becomes obvious what is happening. Bernice pulls out a jacket and starts trying it on, and it doesn’t fit. She looks at the tag, “Eight.” she says. She looks through everything, and they’re all size 8. Deb then says, “what? I know you’re going to do it! You’re going to lose the weight!”

This scene makes me so mad at the characters. It’s heartbreaking. Bernice gets upset and cries, and I can’t help but sympathize. Poor girl. How many times have I tried on clothes that didn’t fit? How terrible did I feel? And here this girl’s mother had BOUGHT her clothes that don’t fit! It makes me so sick, and so angry.

The next scene is of Flor, the Spanish-speaking maid, and central character in the story, asking her daughter how to say “just try it on” in English, and then taking the clothes and altering them to fit. The next day, she forcefully asks Bernice to try it on, and she does, and the happiness is so beautiful. It was a little alteration. She was only one size bigger. And she just lit up at having the beautiful new clothes suddenly fit.

Anyway, it made me terribly angry to think that that sort of stuff happens. But I know it does. And it makes me want to scream.

Grrrrrrr…

Oh, and I think it goes without saying that Bernice is a beautiful girl. Can we please stop teaching these terrible ideals?