One of the reasons I will never become a true ride or die fat bloggers is the fatigue.
After reading the seventh or eighth infuriating article in a row reminding me that the whole entire world hates our bodies, I hit the wall.
My mind simply won’t process the idea I could possibly be that offensive to that many people just by sheer act of existing in the shape I do, so I just walk away. I’m not sure whether that’s cowardly or smart.
It’s so challenging to maintain a healthy balance between realizing there is a problem; that size-discrimination is real, accepted and increasingly government sanctioned (I love Mrs O, but the institutionalized War on Fat Kids is not a trend I’d like to see continued), while also remembering to keep a sense of proportion.
Not everyone is a sizist jerk, just like not all men are rapists or all Republicans are women-hating whackadoos. It’s just that reading 47 articles in a row one night when you’ve fallen down the Jezebel/HuffPo/Social Justice Blog rabbit-hole might skew your world view a teensy bit.
This isn’t a knock against those who report the grim news from the front lines every day. It’s just that I believe in being mindful about everything that goes in and on my body, including information.
Someday I’ll write something thoughtful and poignant about how exposing ourselves indiscriminately to media that treats us like garbage in the name of mindless entertainment –and most of it is mindless– or deriving enjoyment out of shows that are basically hour long soft-core torture porn with a bonus side of sexual assault (or what my friend Mardie calls “Law and Order: Baby Rape”) is pretty screwed up.
Unfortunately, I’m currently living with only intermittent electricity (still) and as of last night –when I tried to excavate my original face under the layers of makeup required for dancing several hours under bright lights– no running water.
Frankly, it’s hard to be serious when failure to remove last night’s maquillage now means I look like Alice Cooper playing the Bette Davis role in “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?”
That’s probably why Audre Lorde never wore liquid liner.
What about you? Do you get fat-hate fatigue? How does what you read in the media compare to your own experiences? Put it in the comments.