By Kate Harding and Marianne Kirby
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Published May 2009 (Paperback) by Penguin Group
More Info: Kate Harding and Marianne Kirby
I’ve been feeling fat lately. Okay, my birthday was Tuesday, and my friends sent me home with the chocolate birthday cake leftovers. And, I’ve been slowly, quietly opening the frig, slipping out the anonymous brown box, and taking little spoonfuls of frosting and cake out of there…and enjoying the hell out of the dense milk chocolate. I’ve closed the door, walked away, and then find myself walking past the frig again, seduced time after time. So, feeling fat, I gravitated toward Kat Harding and Marianne Kirby’s Lessons From the Fat-O-Sphere.
Oh wait. I’ll be right back.
Ummm, chocolate.
Where was I. Feeling fat.
The message — in their frank and funny way — and they admit to some potty mouth — is to not diet, and to love what your momma gave you.
What my momma gave me was a petite body, size four, very different from her five-feet-eight, size fourteen self. Kate and Marianne would be pissed with me right now, complaining about the extra seven pounds I put on with the insulin I have to take, and the shifting of my shape to a rounded belly. But I can relate to the extra weight. One big difference is — they have accepted — and they love — the bodies they’re in, and I haven’t made it there yet. Which is why I found reading their book so valuable. They have science and fashionistas explaining how bogus this whole fat-people-are-unhealthy-thing-is. And, btw, they prefer the word fat.
We pick up our lessons about weight young — and it’s drummed in by the very same women’s magazines that show you size zero models, airbrushed, alongside articles that tell you to love your body. How can you when you don’t look like the eight models in the world who have the perfect bodies?
So the rounded belly, which used to be flat. Sigh. The authors don’t talk about the right foods to eat to get back in shape. No. They recommend eating intuitively — I like that. Intuitively. I have this odd intuition — I always know which cars to buy and which cars are lemons, and I get hits on medical information. When I went away to college, my mom called and said she was going to get a tummy tuck. “No!” I roared through the phone, “Don’t mom, you’ll get a hernia.” She got the tummy tuck. She got the hernia.
She also usually carried about forty extra pounds, and was always dieting, and her butt was flat. My stepfather — from the time I barely hit puberty — used to tell us that my butt was prettier than hers. That upset me. Creeped me out. Especially since he had his hand on my butt a lot, and on and in nearby parts. Sorry. True. Kinda messes with your head. Body image. Still working on it.
When my sons were around twelve and fourteen, I got my BMI down to about twelve-percent, lost my period, thought I was fat, still. Saw my stepfather once during that time, and he grabbed my ass. I had a lot of work to do. Different kind of work than Kate and Marianne had.
This body image thing is ugly. But, Kate and Marianne have healthy suggestions — to exercise doing only what you love, get rid of the clothes in the smaller size you hope to someday wear, and get rid of the so-called friends who eye you when you have French Fries with your salad. It’s like, take it easy, love yourself.
Not too long ago, when I was in another feeling fat phase, I was alone in my bedroom, naked, after peeling off my clothes. I caught the angle of the mirror funny and the thought went through my mind, “That woman is pretty.”
Really.
And then, a beat later, I realized that that woman’s naked body was mine.
The goal, according to Kate and Marianne: trade in the Fantasy of Being Thin for the Realistic Prospect of Being Happy with Who You Are.
If they can do it, maybe I can.
