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Manolo for the Big Girl | Archive | April, 2011
Archive - April, 2011

Reminder About Comments

Hey gang! Just a few quick reminders about comments:

Reminder the first: Keep it clean.

Profanity gets caught in Ye Olde Fpam Filter (the fpam joke would’ve gone over better in a different font, don’t you think?) which means I have to go wading into the deepest darkest recesses of Increase Your Pleasure Pencil Ask Me How to rescue your comment because you dropped an F-bomb, IF I even remember to do it.

Reminder the second: Think Hemingway, not Faulkner.

Do I want to read your beautifully-penned thousand-word treatise on whatever nonsense dribbled its way out of my frontal lobe on any particular day? Yes, yes I do. Do I want to read it in my comments section? Not even a little.

If you’ve got a lot to say about a particular subject I absolutely want to hear about it, but I’m not approving comments longer than the Gettysburg address. So if your comment rings in anywhere over 266 words, either email me the comment –I promise I read them– or post it on your own blog and link to your post in a short comment. I especially encourage email because that way it might make its own post.

Reminder the Third: Short shorts OR long socks. Never both.
Unless your CV includes the title Roller Derby Queen or Nobel Laureate you’ve got to pick one or the other. No exceptions.

Letters from Miss Plumcake: Dear People Who Comment About Weight Loss

Once upon a time I was having happy hour with a friend and the subject turned to suits. I was making my excuses for leaving early as I had to pop by Neiman’s and buy two suits with the hope at least one of them would fit my brother –who had lost a lot of weight– so he wouldn’t have to wear a barrel with suspenders to our grandfather’s funeral.

The person next to me, a close friend at the time, started holding forth about how could a grown man not own a suit that fits. I don’t think I said much as she waxed stentorian on the subject but finally when she asked me directly how a grown man didn’t own a suit that fit I answered.

“He has cancer.”

And that, my little biscuits and gravy, is why you don’t comment on someone’s weight change.

I understand we’re naturally conditioned to think weight loss is good, healthy and desirable. And if a big girl loses weight? Why NOT make public comments of congratulations? Surely she couldn’t possibly be sick, suffering from an eating disorder or heck, just thinks something as personal and private as the choices she makes with her body shouldn’t really be open for general discussion. Would you say “Hey! Congratulations on your terminated pregnancy!” (I mean I would, but only to close friends, and certainly not by shouting it down the hallway.)

Recently I’ve lost weight. I don’t own a scale but I’d say it’s somewhere between “a bunch” and “a mess” and I’m fine with it. I liked my body before, I like it now. It really hasn’t been that big a deal.

I’ve got cheekbones so that’s nice, but none of my clothes fit and that isn’t nice at all.

Other than that my life isn’t any different at a size 18 than it was at a 22. It just takes up moderately less space.

And yeah, I’ve done it on purpose because the less I weigh the less ruinously expensive, side effect-laden, make-sure-she-doesn’t-go-into-shock-and-die medicine I have to have injected into my veins every six weeks until I go to the big rodeo in the sky. And you know? That’s working. It’s also none of anyone’s damn business.

But the point is, until I tell you, you don’t know.

You don’t know if I’m losing weight because I’m sick, or because I’m so distressed I’ve stopped eating, or if I’ve gone on a steady diet of tapeworms, laxatives and medical grade blow.

So please, I know you mean well, but unless you’re invited to touch my body, you’re not invited to comment on it. Let’s just focus on the important thing: how fabulous are my shoes?

Gin and Tonics,

Miss Plumcake

So…what’s the resolution?

Last week, I asked your opinion whether I was being too sensitive when it came to this photo:

Beer goggles?

Which was printed out and put up on the wall of a sports pub where I went to watch El Clasico.

I emailed them the following (with some identifying information removed):

So I’ve been thinking about it and I’m wondering if you’re not doing yourself a disservice by having that print-out on the wall turning a generically pretty fat girl into a generically pretty thin girl (though the breast size stays the same, of course) through the “power of beer.”

I know it’s supposed to be a joke, but it kind of makes you all look like ignorant jerks, which I’m pretty sure isn’t the case. Ignorant because really, in 2011 are we still making fun of fat chicks?

I mean ignoring the basic misogyny and bigotry in it, it’s just so old, like calling something “gay” as an insult or using the phrase “colored people.” It’s embarrassing!

Plus, I’m pretty sure a lot of your clientele are either big girls themselves or are dating/married/attracted to big girls.

So not only are you insulting fat chicks, which is lame, you’re effectively insulting the taste of the people (or in the case of big girls, the actual people) who spend their money at your establishment and come on…that’s not only bad from a decent-human-being aspect, it’s bad business too.

There are precious few places to watch proper football in this town, especially as a female fan.

It’s pretty much you and [redacted] and I know you guys are the underdog. I’d hate to see something as stupid as a joke poster (no matter how poor the taste) affect your sales even a little. Seriously, I’m not the most morally resolute girl on the block and even I have a hard time justifying that it’s ethically okay to financially support some place that’s okay with discriminating –even via dumb print-out– against someone based on how they look.

Hala Madrid!

Miss Plumcake

To which I received this response:

Miss Plumcake:

Thank you for taking the time to address your concerns to us. If you have been a frequent customer of ours then you will appreciate that we do cater to a significant number of full figured and larger women. We pride ourselves in providing a safe and inviting place for women to feel comfortable and relaxed without being pestered or feeling on show. In that vein, I can appreciate your view point and have removed the picture.

Thank you again for bringing that to our attention.

And you know? I’ll take it. Do I think for one hot buttered second they have realized the error of their ways and are wearing hairshirts at this very moment? Eh, not really.

What I do think is they saw an email sent from the biggest media outlet in town and panicked a little. Then after some cursory googling panicked some more and thought “Oh crap, we really do not want this to get media attention” and responded.

If it occurred to them to be a little more thoughtful about what they put up because you never know who is going to be there, that’s just gravy. And if they actually did think “hey, you know I guess this kind of DOES make us look like jerks.” then alleluia with knobs on.

Would I have gotten the same response if I’d just been some random emailer who didn’t buy ink by the tanker truck? I’d like to think yes, but I’m not sure.

May your Easter be as happy

as young poultry in a zeppelin

…or Ann Miller’s hat. Whichever you’d prefer.

Twistie’s Sunday Caption Madness: The Dang Big Digit Edition: The Result

Oh my dearie darlings.

Last week I inspired your nightmares with this deathless image:

and you responded with a plethora of captions giving the finger to this thumb.

They were all good (though I have to admit I didn’t get The Gold Digger’s caption; is it something about sports?), but in the end there can be but one winner. Plumcake can rest easy because it’s the always awesome Jacquilynne for this short but pith-infused question:

Well, sure, it’s big. But is it opposable?

Congratulations, Jacquilynne, and thanks to everyone who played.

The Big Question: How Serious is Too Serious?

You know, I think it’s fair to say that I’m pretty oblivious to most fat biases, or if I notice them I don’t really care. It’s hard to get all worked up by a No Fat Chicks shirt since they guys who wear them are the same ones who put fake testicles on their trucks and are thus doing the world a favor by being clearly marked.

Yet when I noticed this printed out on a piece of copy paper and pasted on the wall of a sports bar I visited on Saturday, well, it stuck in my craw:


“Behold the Power of Beer”

And the more I think about it, the more it bothers me.

Like, maybe it wouldn’t bother me so much if it had been a big girl done up to look really comically ugly, and then magically turned into a skinny girl with some serious aftermarket headlights –because that’s what all guys want right?– but it was just sort of a generically pretty big girl, so the implication is you’d have to be drunk to want to have sex with a fat girl.

Really? REALLY? You’ll take my money AND insult me? Not on my watch, bucko. If I wanted that sort of treatment I’d have children or spend time with the federal government and frankly, neither of those sound all that appealing.

So what do you think? Am I being too serious? Should I have said something? Would you/do you go to places like that?

What Miss Plumcake is…

Hello my little marshmallow peeps, how’s every little thing? Me? I’m fine. I got exactly zero sleep last night so I’ve got my flawlessly tailored crabby pants on, but it’s Tuesday which means it’s time to find out

What Miss Plumcake is…
(more…)

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