Actually they don't (today), but that's another story.
Yesterday, the New York Times ran a story about bras for small-breasted women and the ladies who wear them. It was fluff, in the same way that a restaurant review is fluff; not dealing with the most pressing issues of the day, not interesting to everybody, but most definitely the sort of thing that some readers might enjoy and find useful.
Certainly, the article had flaws. For one, it suggested that taking pride in one's small breasts is a symptom of fat people and OMFG ARE PEOPLE FAT. :sigh: Still, the article made some good, if fluffy points. But, because this was a story on women's bodies (and :gasp: one of the supposedly womanlier parts of many women's bodies) there was an immediate backlash.
To hell with that.
The Times article alluded to the marginalization of small-breasted women's bodies. Permit me to verify that this exists.
You know how in puberty pretty much all girls suffer teasing about their breasts? (You should have seen mine back in high school. Ugh.) That's pretty much how the grown-up world works. It's really the same world, if you think about it.
Flat-chested women supposedly aren't quite grown up. We're not that sexy, or certainly not as sexy as we'd be if we had bigger breasts. (Breasts that we could buy, btw, provided we were willing to put up with the blowback that plastic surgery gets you in some circles.)
Of course, we could get padded bras. Which, incidentally, are everywhere. And always improved. Revolutionary, even. Sometimes shit explodes. Breasts that appear to be of a culturally accepted size and shape are a big deal.
The Times piece actually mentions that some of us don't necessarily want padded bras. Or don't want to wear training bras designed for teens. It doesn't mention this, but those of us who are tall can't usually wear bras designed on the assumption that we're comparably short teens whose 36A breasts are growing to be of an appropriate size. The article mentions the rise of boutiques where one can get grown-up bras that fit. I noted the information on the chance that someday I have money to invest in nice bras.
Small-breasted women are real people with real experiences. I, for one, noticed that many people didn't really take my womanhood seriously until I was a full A-cup. That was kinda a big deal, because the alternative was pretty shitty. Did I mention this was a real experience in the real world?
But our experiences aren't enough to mollify folks who want to tell us what our lives, bodies, and experiences should be.
Like, I understand that bras are the devil and it can be hell on your back to have large breasts and I'm so lucky and why the hell would I ever wear a bra whatthehelliswrongwithme, but, uh.... Sometimes I don't like to show off my nipples at work. It can still be uncomfortable walking around with unsupported breasts, even smaller ones. Also, who the fuck is anyone to judge my choice in clothing, and why the fuck do they think I have to give an explanation of my attire?
I also understand that there are women with other body issues, you know, because I have empathy. Like, I know that fat hatred exists. I've been to the doctor with my partner. And the grocery store. And the sidewalk. Oh, and also we've shopped for bras together. Trying ain't the half of it. Oh! Have any of you seen the selection of sports bras for larger-breasted women? Telling of society, no?
Speaking of body issues and marginalization, do you want to talk about my penis? Me neither.
And why yes, at some point I would like to talk about other issues... about the economy, about health insurance, about public education, about crime. These are incredibly important issues that affect my household more than my breasts do. However, for these ten minutes we're talking about my breasts, m'kay? I promise the Arbitrators of Very Important Things that we can spend the next fifteen minutes discussing what's for lunch before y'all move on to puzzling out the one and only one true important issue in society.
Nobody who's oppressed can truly win the Oppression Olympics, because, well, it's oppressive. Not listening to the voices of small-breasted women and generally dismissing our experiences of marginalization is oppression. It's like we get a higher (or lower) score simply by virtue of participation in that cruel pseudo-sport with Calvinballesque rules and a constantly moving target.
Besides, I own my body. And frankly, I don't think that goes far enough. Mind-body dichotomy be damned, I am my body. My body is how I experience this world. So it's not really appropriate that my body, or anyone's body be treated as communal property to be judged against contrived standards. Yet this is precisely what society does to many bodies (women's bodies being one of many overlapping examples) all the time. Nuts to that.
My Breasts Hurt
Today's Edition of "Conniving and Sinister"
[Taken from an actual text conversation we had yesterday...]
See Deeky's archive of all previous Conniving & Sinister strips here.
[In which Liss reimagines the long-running comic "Frank & Ernest," about two old straight white guys "telling it like it is," as a fat feminist white woman (Liss) and a biracial queerbait (Deeky) telling it like it actually is from their perspectives. Hilarity ensues.]
STFU, Jerry Lewis
[Trigger warning for violence and misogyny.]
Showbiz veteran Jerry Lewis, who is already well-known as a Grade-A misogynist, went off on an absolutely absurd rant this week about Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, and Britney Spears (of course), detailing what he would do to set them straight:
"I'd smack her in the mouth if I saw her," he offered the interviewer when asked what he'd do if he saw Lohan. "I would smack her in the mouth and be arrested for abusing a woman!"And everyone knows the way to respond to a cry for help is with belittlement and physical abuse.
He continued, "I would say, 'You deserve this and nothing else' ... WHACK! And then, if she's not satisfied, I'd put her over my knee and spank her and then put her in rehab and that's it."
..."She doesn't have the right to do to herself what she's doing," he said of Lohan, who just did some time in jail and rehab. "She's not hurting my business. What she's doing is hurting herself, and that hurts me. It hurts me for her."
..."What they're saying is, 'I'm f*****d up, can you please help me!"
..."I think they need a f*****g spanking! And a reprimand!" he said. "It has nothing to do with [money and fame], it has to do that they have the intelligence of a box of rocks. A bag of snails will give you better answers than those people. I think a great deal of it is ignorance and crying for something other than love."
As I've had occasion to observe before, I've got no idea, and neither does Jerry Lewis, what it's like to grow up in the information age as a commoditized young woman, inevitably defining my self-worth by the amount of public attention I'm getting, and how that fucks with one's head.
I've got no idea what it must be like to feel equal parts exhilarated and scared when the paparazzi hounds you and equal parts relieved and lost when they don't, how that must compel people to seek out public attention even when it's the last thing they need, because it's all they feel like they've got.
I've got no idea what it must be like to have drugs pressed into my hand by strangers at clubs I'm allowed to patronize before I'm old enough to drink, and how confusing and infuriating and sad and insecurity-making it must be to not know whether people like you because you're you or because you're famous, how that must make clubs full of mind-altering substances and fawning fans an attractive place to be.
I've got no idea what it must be like trying to navigate one's way to adulthood as a woman—a difficult and confusing journey even when one isn't hyper-sexualized at a formative age, tasked with the responsibility of accounting for a professional image one doesn't even have the life experience to contexualize.
And neither does Jerry Lewis. So he should really shut the fuck up.
He has no idea what these young women are going through, and no interest in exploring why it is that young women are singled out for public excoriation for self-destructive behavior. He's just another sanctimonious toad who finds it easier to unilaterally condemn the women who fail to gracefully rise above a deeply fucked-up industry effectively, if not deliberately, designed to destroy them, than to question, challenge, or work to transform the industry.
And why would he? The source of their destruction made him a very rich man.
[Related Reading: I Write Letters, Bad Girls, Oh, For Crying Out Glavin.]
I'm So Glad We Elected a Democrat, Part One Billion
White House considers pre-midterm package of business tax breaks to spur hiring.
Of course they do.
With just two months until the November elections, the White House is seriously weighing a package of business tax breaks - potentially worth hundreds of billions of dollars - to spur hiring and combat Republican charges that Democratic tax policies hurt small businesses, according to people with knowledge of the deliberations.So now policy is being decided not on what will be most effective for the US citizenry, but based on avoiding mendacious GOP framing. Awesome.
...Permanently extending the research credit would cost roughly $100 billion over the next decade, tax analysts said. And depending on its form and duration, a payroll-tax holiday could cost more than $300 billion. While costing significantly less than last year's stimulus package, both ideas would be far more dramatic than anything the White House has so far acknowledged considering.
...More spending on infrastructure, particularly transportation projects, is also under discussion. But it would be easier for a package composed purely of tax cuts to "avoid the stain of a 'bailout' or 'stimulus' label," said one official familiar with the talks, speaking on the condition of anonymity because the deliberations were private.
[S]ome Democratic candidates and political operatives feel the president is not doing enough to help them keep control of Congress, privately expressing frustration that Obama has recently emphasized issues other than the economy.I just don't even know what to say anymore. I really don't.
"We did the mosque, Katrina, Iraq, and now Middle East peace?" said a Democratic strategist who works closely with multiple candidates and spoke on the condition of anonymity. "And in between you redo the Oval Office? It has become a joke."
...Last November, Obama announced that he would turn his attention to unemployment, calling it "one of the great challenges that remains in our economy." ... But other matters - health care, the BP oil spill - continually stole the limelight, creating the impression, some Democrats complain, that the president was barely focused on the economy at all.
His advisers described his attentiveness - noting, for example, that he discussed the economy with New York Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg (I) for 15 minutes before golfing - but got little traction.
Feel the Homomentum!
New South Wales passed a bill yesterday granting same-sex couples the right to adopt.
NSW Premier Kristina Keneally supported the bill:
Speaking to the lower house on Wednesday night, Ms Keneally said she had considered her Catholic faith, observations of same-sex parents and her own experiences of parental love.
"In considering all of that, I must, in my conscience, support this legislation," she said.
Fine work, Aussies!
[Tip of the kookaburra to Shaker Michelle.]
Today in Analogizin'
"The federal government is basically a drug dealer trying to give out free samples, or give people a taste, get them further addicted."
Minnesota Governor Tim Pawlenty, comparing the Obama administration and health insurance "reform" to any number of people in my neighborhood who may or may not have health insurance.
"And I think we just say: 'No, thanks, we've had enough,' and get your own house in order, by the way, at the same time."
Speaking of interesting, word on the street (as the kids say) is that the President is black. Surely that couldn't have played into Pawlenty's insinuation that the White House is basically a drug house. *cough*
FWIW, I was unaware that drug dealers actually give out free samples. Maybe I need to rent New Jack City
Question of the Day
We haven't done a "desert island" question in ages, so here we go… As always, the desert comes equipped with a power source and kickass entertainment system.
Were you to be stranded for an indefinite period of time, which one book, one album, and one film would you want to have with you?
Book: The Complete Works of Shakespeare
Album: "Strangeways, Here We Come" by The Smiths
Film: Harold and Maude
This is a real thing in the world.
[Image Description: Two cake toppers photographed on a store shelf. On the left, a thin white bride dragging a thin white groom across the ground by his collar. On the right, a thin white bride grabbing a thin white groom to stop him from running away.]
Mama Shakes sent these charming cake toppers to me with the note (which I am publishing with her permission):
Hi, Sis. I didn't know if these were nice enough for your "This Is a Real Thing in the World" feature. I know you may find it surprising to learn I spotted them at Wal-Mart.I am shocked. SHOCKED, I tell you.
Today's Edition of "Conniving and Sinister"
[Background.]
See Deeky's archive of all previous Conniving & Sinister strips here.
[In which Liss reimagines the long-running comic "Frank & Ernest," about two old straight white guys "telling it like it is," as a fat feminist white woman (Liss) and a biracial queerbait (Deeky) telling it like it actually is from their perspectives. Hilarity ensues.]
Photo of the Day
U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton chats with former British Prime Minister Tony Blair as leaders gathered to deliver a joint statement on Middle East Peace talks in the East Room of the White House in Washington September 1, 2010. [Reuters Pictures]
The Overton Window: Chapter Three
Chapter one introduced us to our hero, Noah Gardner. Chapter gave him a sidekick, Molly Ross. With chapter three comes our story's villain.
Arthur Isaiah Gardner: World's greatest PR man, head of Doyle & Merchant (the world's greatest PR firm, duh), Noah's father, atheist, mastermind behind the new order of things: The Great and Powerful Oz.
Like Noah, Arthur isn't described physically. We are again to presume he's white, since that's assuredly the default for Beck. He's seventy-four and silvery voiced and has a "taste for blood." Figuratively speaking, of course. Or not. Thanks to Joe Mande, Arthur Gardner is cemented in my mind as being portrayed by Jon Voight. (See image below.) So every time he speaks, and he speaks a lot, it's like watching Anaconda, or National Treasure 2: The Legend of Curly's Gold, but not as cleverly written.
I haven't quite got my head wrapped around Arthur Gardner. He spends the bulk of chapter three pontificating and speechifying. Part of what he espouses is Beck brand neocon nonsense: hatred of: Social Security, government debt, corporate bailouts. But Gardner's solution is to replace the U.S. government with his own system: "a new framework that will survive when the decaying remains of the failed United States have been washed away in the coming storm." And while Beck hates Social Security, government debt, corporate bailouts, his solution is "Restoring Honor."
Chapter three opens with Arthur Gardner reading a classified memo titled "Constitutionalists, Extremism, the Militia Movement, and the Growing Threat of Domestic Terrorism." The memo lists groups of fringe elements that the government needs to keep an eye on. Mostly Beck's target audience: "Militant anti-abortion or 'pro-life' organizers, anti-immigration, border defenders, 'Tea Parties', third-party political campaigns, Libertarian Party, Constitution Party, tax resisters, 'End the Fed' proponents, gun rights activists." Then some more ... frightening ... elements are thrown in. "Christian Identity, White Nationalists, American Nazi Party, Holocaust denier, hate radio/TV/Web/print."
It's almost clever. See what's he's done here? He's lumped in his own audience with the more dangerous elements on the right and tied it all in with "hate radio." It is designed to appeal to Beck's audience's sense of persecution. The government is out to get them, as they see it, and this plays right into their paranoia: Those in charge hate the right, from the "pro-lifer" to the Nazi, they're all the same. That's probably the most insidious part. It's that sameness in the minds of the cons that normalizes and mainstreams those dangerous elements. If the government hates them all the same, then maybe the American Nazi Party is no more dangerous than the average "pro-lifer."
There follows a bit on the "detention / rendition / interrogation / prosecution" of these elements:
With U.S. citizens suddenly in the news in the place of al-Qaeda terrorists, some level of psychological resistance must be anticipated and then defused when it arises. It is the opinion of the committee that such a reflexive populist reaction would prove to be a major obstacle to progress. In fact, absent some catastrophic and catalyzing event (on the order of a Pearl Harbor / 9/11 attack), there is a potential that the government's reasonable actions in this critical area may be met with significant public outrage and even active sympathy and misguided support for these treasonous/seditious elements and their hate-based objectives.
Gardner throws the report aside and addresses his newest client. A government stooge named Purcell, who's hired Doyle & Merchant to fix the PR nightmare that is the leaked memo, due to hit the front page of tomorrow's Washington Post.
Much to Purcell's surprise, Noah's already got the memo blamed on an "overzealous local bureaucracy." Like Molly said, PR people just lie.
All of this leads to ten-odd pages of Gardner addressing the guests in his conference room. It's far too long, but kind of fun to imagine Jon Voight delivering it on-screen. I mean, that beats just reading it straight. (How long until ABC puts The Overton Window miniseries into production, you think?) Gardner tells how the 2004 tsunami ruined his Sri Lankan vacation, all if which he use as analogy for the destruction of the U.S. He also tells of how he was the guy who invented bottled water. His greatest PR scheme, conning folks into buying water in plastic bottles instead of drinking it relatively free of charge from the tap. All the while he rails on about the ills of the U.S. government's overspending. Highlights below:
Bear Stearns, a cornerstone firm of Wall Street founded when my father was a young man, a company whose stock had quite recently been selling at a hundred and sixty dollars a share, was bailed out by the Federal Reserve and J.P. Morgan at two dollars per share. That was the beginning, my friends.
We are in the midst of what will become the most devastating financial calamity in the history of Western civilization, and just this week—please do correct me if my figures are wrong—the Congress and the administration have committed to funnel almost eight trillion dollars to the very institutions that engineered the crisis.
Over the last century you've saddled your hapless citizens with a hundred thousand billion dollars in unsecured debt, money they'll be paying back for fifty generations if there are still any jobs to be had by then. Meanwhile you're up to your necks in misguided, escalating wars on two unforgiving fronts with no sign of the end. That's trillions more in unpayable IOUs.
For heaven's sake, you nationalized General Motors just to get your union friends off the hook. As you know, those union pensions you just took over are severely underfunded, adding another seventeen billion dollars to your tab. Seventeen billion, I might add, that you don't have.
Just to stay afloat the government is borrowing five billion dollars every day at ever-rising interest rates from our fair-weather friends in Asia. Sooner or later the truth will be undeniable, that these massive debts can never be repaid, and there'll be a panic, a worldwide run against the dollar, and through your actions you've ensured that the results will be fatal and irreversible.
And all this will lead to the collapse of the U.S.
But that's okay. Gardner has a plan. He also has a Powerpoint presentation. And some hand-outs. (Which I guess is what Churchill got his hands on in the prologue.)
"Because we must, we will finally complete what they envisioned: a new framework that will survive when the decaying remains of the failed United States have been washed away in the coming storm. Within this framework the nation will reemerge from the rubble, reborn to finally take its rightful, humble place within the world community. And you," he said, looking around the table, "will all be there to lead it."
A hand went up on the far side, a question from the senior member of the party, who'd so far only listened in silence.
"Mr. Gardner," the man said. "What about the public?"
"What about them? The public has lost their courage to believe. They've given up their ability to think. They can no longer even form opinions, they absorb their opinions, sitting slack-jawed in front of their televisions. Their thoughts are manufactured by people like me. What about the public? There's a double-edged sword by which the public can be sold anything, from a three-dollar bottle of tap water to a full-scale war."
And not only does Gardner have a plan, it's gonna be easy to implement:
"The misguided resistance that still exists will be put down in one swift blow. There'll be no revolution, only a brief, if somewhat shocking, leap forward in social evolution. We'll restore the natural order of things, and then there will be only peace and acceptance among the masses." He smiled. "Before we're done they'll be lining up to gladly pay a tax on the very air that they breathe."
Kind of scary, huh? No, not Gardner's plan, but Beck's audience, who believe this. This reads less like a cautionary tale, and more like a call to arms. "The misguided resistance that still exists will be put down in one swift blow." I fear, the only solution, in the eyes of Beck, is a preemptive strike.
[Note: I'll be in Baltimore all next week, so no Overton updates until I get back, mid-September or thereabouts. Enjoy your time off, Shakers!]
This is so the worst thing you're going to read all day.
[Trigger warning for discussion of body image.]
Many Americans Don't Even Know They're Fat.
Of course we don't. Because the DEATHFAT! has mememtoed our memories and shrunk the stuffin' in our brainpans!
You really expect my critically addled fatbrain to be able to remember that I'm a fatsronaut once I walk away from the scale or the mirror the closest stranger calling me a fat cunt when the DEATHFATZ ARE EATIN MY BRAINZZZ?!
For the record: I know I'm fat.
[H/T to Shaker Julie.]
Today in Ugh
The president's bipartisan National Commission on Fiscal Responsibility and Reform, tasked with "identifying policies to improve the fiscal situation in the medium term and to achieve fiscal sustainability over the long run" and proposing "recommendations designed to balance the budget [and] meaningfully improve the long-run fiscal outlook, including changes to address the growth of entitlement spending and the gap between the projected revenues and expenditures of the Federal Government" is comprised of 18 people profiled here by TPM.
The president's bipartisan National Commission on Fiscal Responsibility and Reform is very white, very male, and very terrifying.
I just bipartisaned in my pants.
This deserves a much more serious post, but I am too depressed to write it.
Ugh.
[H/T to Shaker Carol.]
Check Out This Tenured Professor of Feminism at Dipshit University
So there's this principled men's rights activist douchey anti-feminist fame-chasing self-promoter who, among pursuing other important legal issues involving feminists ruining the world for men, has been on this asinine crusade to challenge the constitutionality of ladies' nights at bars. But, sadly, the Second Circuit Court of Appeals has rejected his argument.
The court, with evident amusement, said it must rule against [Manhattan lawyer Roy Den Hollander] even though "without action on our part, (he) paints a picture of a bleak future, where 'none other than what's left of the Wall Street moguls' will be able to afford to attend nightclubs."Good luck with all that, Roy.
…"The guys are paying for girls to party. I don't think that's fair," Den Hollander said. "It's a transfer of money fom the wallets of guys to the pocketbooks of girls."
He vowed to appeal to the Supreme Court.
The best part of his complaint, however, is that he doesn't lay the responsibility for ladies' nights at the doorstep of the money-grubbing club promoters who use the promise of cheap booze to lure women into their meat markets for the benefit of their horny male clientele, but instead "blames militant feminists for the ladies-pay-less door policies." He's really onto us, my Feminazi Cooter Cultists.
Shaker Tereska, who gets the hat tip, exclaims: "Of course ladies' nights were fought for and won by feminists. My top two issues are access to abortion and HALF PRICED MARTINIS!!!"
There's Good News and Bad News. And Fat News.
(TW for discussion of depression)
I went to the doctor last Friday (I went to see a couple of my doctors, actually, but this post concerns my visit with my internist). She recently replaced another doctor who had been part of that practice for several decades, and had been the only internist I had seen more than once as an adult. This new one, Dr. L., has had the unenviable task of taking on a lot of patients who were very attached to the previous physician, and earning their trust.
I went to see her a couple of months ago for the first time, to request a blood glucose test. My paternal grandmother, whom I never knew but from whom I seem to have inherited some unfortunate tendencies, had Type II diabetes, an illness which my "lifestyle" is quite conducive to. By "lifestyle" I mean that I suffer from great fatigue, difficulty focusing on tasks, and a lack of motivation.
"Lack of motivation" is a generally misunderstood symptom of depression. It does not mean that I sit around thinking, "Oh, I'm so depressed; why bother to do shit I don't want to do anyway." It means not that I lack discipline, but that there is a mental disconnect between my conscious mind, which says I want or need to do X, and the part of my brain which actually initiates activity. It prevents me from doing things I would very much like to do, as well as things I need to do, rather than indicating simply a lack of interest in doing things which are not immediately rewarding.
If you want or need to go somewhere, whether somewhere you're eagerly looking forward to going, or somewhere routine, or to the dentist for a root canal which you may be much averse to but have nevertheless decided will leave you better off in the long run, and you get in your car, turn the key in the ignition repeatedly, yet the engine sputters but does not engage, this is not an indication that you don't really want to go anywhere. It's an indication that something is wrong with the equipment you need to transport you there.
I am fully capable of sitting for hours, thinking periodically, "I need to pee," then, "I really need to pee," and eventually, "Damn, I need to pee," before being able to jump start the part of my brain which engages with the task of getting up and walking the ten feet to the bathroom, and initiates the movement which allows me to do that.
The more complex the task, the harder it can be, because a more complex sequence of actions must be, in some sense, imagined and targeted before the actions necessary to bring them about can be initiated. Most people are unaware that this process even takes place, because in a healthy brain, it occurs swiftly and automatically. In my brain, it does not.
I also have difficulty disengaging from tasks. Physical tasks are self-limiting, because my normal state is one of fatigue, and it escalates rapidly with any exertion. I can get sort of "stuck", though, doing fairly simple things on the computer, because the fatigue factor is low and it can require more energy to disengage, or mentally change gears to engage another task, than it does to just keep doing what I'm doing.
One result of these and other symptoms of my depression is that I get no exercise and my diet is terrible. Much of what I eat is dragged out of the freezer and shoved in the microwave. Many days I eat pretzels, cheese and my staple diet cola for breakfast, because it's what I can manage. For a "healthier" breakfast, I'll have a piece of fruit with that — when I have any, which is only a few days a month.
I cook occasionally, simple things, and occasionally make a salad, but even chopping vegetables is often beyond me. Since I have no car and have been unable for some time to manage grocery shopping by a combination of walking and buses, I order my groceries on the net and have them delivered. Because of the expense, I do this only every 2.5 to 3 weeks, which is therefore how often I get fresh produce, and only as much as I am likely to be able to prepare and eat within a few days. So my diet, as I mentioned, is monumentally crappy.
I spent a lot of years fighting my limitations. That accomplished nothing of lasting value, and actually endangered my survival. So I've learned to do the best I can to work with them. It does not create a healthy "lifestyle" but it permits me to survive. This is why the scare quotes around "lifestyle". That word is generally used to refer to something seen as chosen, preferred, as if selected from a menu of possibilities (you know, like being gay. You know you just love it 'cause it's naughty!).
I did not choose to live this way. I generally refrain from speaking for others, but I can say with bone-deep confidence that no one would choose to live this way. Whatever minor advantages it may seem to have to someone who never has lived this way, are far outweighed by the disadvantages, and no, I and others are not too stupid or childish to figure that out. It is also not the result of weakness. No one who has lived it could doubt the tenacity and power of endurance necessary to do so.
I have also been on every class of anti-depressant, anti-psychotic, mood stabilizer and anti-seizure medication in existence, have been through cognitive therapy and several courses of electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), commonly known as electroshock. Only a couple of the drugs and the ECT provided any benefit, and it was short-lived. All of the preceding is meant to make clear that my "lifestyle" is not going to change.
I went to have my blood sugar tested because I like to see what's coming, even if I can't do anything about it. I prefer knowing what I'm dealing with. Not only was my blood glucose elevated (I'm "pre-diabetic"), my cholesterol and blood pressure are climbing as well. My doctor had briefly given me the usual recommendations about diet and exercise, which I listened to in silence, knowing she was obligated to provide me with that information, and after my follow-up visit two months later to check the progression of my various elevated numbers, (because this was the first time any of them had been elevated), had emailed me saying that medication was a possibility if lifestyle changes alone were insufficient.
Well, I gave that some thought. Dr. L. had engaged in no fat-shaming, no blaming of any kind, and seemed like someone with whom a patient could have a mutually respectful conversation. Also, Shakesville.
I spent the first three decades of my life hearing that all my problems, as well as those of the people close to me, were All My Fault. I saw, throughout my teen years, a series of therapists who were no help at all, who did not even provide me with a diagnosis, and generally treated me as if I were simply a rebellious teenager who wasn't smart enough to see that the person whose life was being destroyed by my inability to function was my own.
I only returned to mental health treatment in my thirties when it was clear that I would not live much longer without help. It was that which made me desperate enough to ask for the help I had always been told I did not deserve. I didn't find treatment which worked, but I did find a psychiatrist who treated me like a person with an illness who deserved whatever he could do to help, and that was enough to allow me to survive, although it has been touch-and-go at times. This doctor has been extraordinary, in my experience. I have had to deal with other mental health care providers as well, over the years since he became my doctor, which has only confirmed that view.
So I don't expect a lot, from anyone, including health care professionals. I learned somewhere along the way to say to people, "I won't accept that." I'm not sure I ever learned to say, "I expect this," or even just, "Would this be possible?" But I think the view insistently expressed at Shakesville that fat people are entitled to the health care they need, not only that which they earn by meeting the expectations of others, including health care providers, also influenced my decision to have a conversation with my new internist about whether medical treatment would be appropriate, given my unchanging "lifestyle".
So I went to see my doctor again. (She is aware of my history of depression, because I get all my health care from various departments of the physician's practice within my HMO, and they all have access to my complete medical record.) I told her that my diet is terrible and I get no exercise at all. I further told her that I have lived as I do for many years, well aware of the likely health effects, especially given my family history. (That diabetic grandmother? Also bipolar*. Thanks**, unknown Granny, for all the diseases!).
I told Dr. L. that realistically, none of that is going to change. I asked her if, given that reality, there was any value to my taking either of the medications she had suggested might be possible "if lifestyle changes were insufficient." She said matter-of-factly, "Well, medication is appropriate when lifestyle changes have been maximized." I said, "So there's no point in my taking any." She said, "Oh, no, I meant that if your lifestyle changes have been maxed out, and the condition remains, then medication is appropriate." So we discussed the nature of the medications she had in mind, and I left with two prescriptions. Deathfatz was not mentioned.
She knows how much I weigh. I was weighed each time I went, without fuss, and the result duly noted on my chart. Also, she can see me. I am "morbidly obese". But then, I'm generally pretty morbid. (Ha-ha! Little depressed person humor there! Yes, we have our own jokes, too. I will spare you them.) At no time did I get any fat-shaming, lifestyle-blaming, or air of disapproval from her. Most importantly to me, when I told her that I can't change the way I live, she took me at my word.
My allergist had previously tried to convince me how simple changes to my diet would be, based on how when he was divorced he used to just throw some stuff on the grill on the days when he had his kids. He's a nice man, really. His manner wasn't patronizing, and I actually appreciate his willingness to take the time to talk to me about something outside his own direct responsibility but which was intended to better my health, given that many people have doctors who rush in and out with barely a chance to discuss anything with them. But, doc, I'm not a divorced man who never learned to cook because a woman had always done it for him. I'm chronically ill. No, really. They are not similar conditions.
So telling a doctor that this is how I live, and that my own assessment based on the knowledge accumulated in living my particular life tells me that it's the best I can do under the conditions of my life, and having her accept my judgment on that point, and matter-of-factly go on to discuss what can be done, was . . . startling.
I have read the horror stories here at Shakesville and throughout the fatosphere, about health care professionals who appear to believe that fat people don't deserve to be healthy, and are by jiminy not going to get any help from them in becoming as healthy as they can be until they earn it by losing weight. I know I am really lucky to have the doctor that I do. Hell, I'm lucky to have the broad access to health care that I do, which is provided by a combination of Medicare and MediCal that I am very fortunate to have, and I don't forget that.
But having access to a building where health care is provided and a staff who provide it to those they feel are deserving (the right weight, the right gender, the right gender presentation, the right sexual orientation, the right religious beliefs, the right sexual habits — being the right kind of person, i.e., like me, the provider) is one thing, and having access to health care you can use, provided by professionals who respect the autonomy and judgment of the patient, is a whole other dimension. I have both, and I know that, in this respect, I am very fortunate.
*My depression is unipolar; unipolar depression is quite often also found in families where bipolar disorder is present.
**I couldn't resist the sarcasm, but obviously no one is responsible for the genes they have, much less who among their children and grandchildren inherit them, and given that these conditions certainly caused her suffering as well, unknown Granny merits only sympathy from me.
H/T to CaitieCat and eastsidekate, who jump-started my motor to write this post. :)
Top Chef Open Thread
[Image from last night's show: While chefstronaut Buzz Aldrin regales his dinner companions with Tang-affirming stories about Tatooine, all celebrichefjudicator Anthony Bourdain can think about is Jawas.]
Last night's episode will be precisely batonneted, so if you haven't seen it, and don't want any spoilers, pack your knives and go...
