Many of you may have read this article from Yahoo Health that went up two days ago. It’s the sad tale of British teen Stacey Irvine who collapsed and was rushed to the hospital with severe breathing problems.

Turns out what was wrong with her was that since she was two years old – that’s fifteen years, folks – Irvine has subsisted on a diet of Chicken McNuggets meals. That’s pretty much it. Just incredibly processed, deep-fried chicken nuggets and fries, with an occasional slice of toast or handful of potato chips to mix things up. No leafy greens, no root veggies that aren’t fried potatoes, no fruit, no fish, no red meat, no pulses: nada else.

As a result, Irvine suffers from anemia and swollen veins in her tongue. Clearly what she was doing was not good for her health.

But what interests me is the fact that the article seems to focus on the badness of Chicken McNuggets as opposed to what was really wrong with Irvine’s diet: she was eating only one thing and had done so for fifteen years.

In many ways, what shocks me the most about this story isn’t that eating nothing but Chicken McNuggets is bad for you, but the fact that she managed to get along on that and so very little else for so freaking long.

Even proponents of fad diets based around a single food, such as grapefruit or cabbage soup, only recommend you stay on them for roughly a week at a time and then stop for at least a couple weeks. For my money, that’s a great big flashing red warning sign to stay away from that diet. After all, if it were healthy to eat nothing but grapefruit, you wouldn’t have to stop so quickly or give it as long a rest, would you?

In a more nuanced article at CBS News, it’s pointed out that even if what Irvine had been eating every day to the exclusion of all other foods had been something generally recognized as healthy, such as carrots, she would still be suffering ill effects on her health because no single food item can fulfill all of a person’s nutritional needs.

So if you like McNuggets, eat the freaking McNuggets. Just make sure you eat something else once in a while, too. And if you like carrots, eat the freaking carrots… and make sure you eat something else once in a while, too.

It’s not what food you eat that makes it unhealthy: it’s eating only one food.

Variety isn’t just the spice of life. It’s also good for you.

So. Yesterday in my inbox, I found an announcement of Woman Within’s new WW Active line. It’s a collection of activewear, exercise equipment, and blog for fat… er… plus sized women. So far the blog only has two entries, so I can’t say much about it other than it’s got cheerful graphics of straight-sized women and has not yet specifically mentioned weight loss.

While I haven’t seen the clothes up close and personal, I did take a bit of a gander at the offerings on tap to see what I thought of them. Overall, they look practical and comfortable. Most of the pieces do include polyester and/or spandex, but I did find a couple all-cotton shirts, which is nice. Let’s encourage more of that, shall we? And most of the pieces in the collection do seem to include some cotton along with the synthetics.

Most pieces offer color choices, some of them a positively dizzying number, which pleased me to no end. For instance, those yoga pants shown above? come with your choice of twelve color combinations. Okay, all that changes on these is the color of the stripe down the leg, but many pieces come in eight, twelve, even sixteen completely different colors.

Speaking of choices, most of the pants come in petite sizes as well as regular, and quite a few also come in tall. And while the largest size I found among the pieces I actually looked at was 6x – and I only found a couple of those – the size chart tops out at 7x. I have high hopes that that means we’ll soon see attractive, reasonably priced activewear for women up to size 46w/48w. Most of the pieces in the collection seem to go up to 5x, though I did find a couple pantsuits that only went up to 1x. Still, if you’re super sized, there’s a good chance you can find something to wear in this collection. And chances are it will come in a pretty color. I even found athletic shoes up to a 13xww!

Another thing I appreciated was the fact that the line includes exercise equipment. On the downside, nearly half the section is made up of scales and juicers, with only a couple actual pieces of exercise equipment. On the very upside is the unfortunately named Love Handles Exerciser.

What do I think is so great about this machine? Well, basically it consists of two handles which, according to the write up on the site can be attached to nearly any chair or wheelchair. Yes, this site is actually willing to acknowledge that an inability to walk doesn’t necessarily mean you have no interest in fitness.

On the downside of the fitness equipment is the constant talk in the write ups about fat burning, which, I know, is to be expected, but still disappoints my little activist soul. On the even more downside, many pieces of equipment are designed to hold no more than 250ibs. and the treadmill is only rated up to 225lbs. I hope that more equipment for the super sized will become available as time moves on. As things stand, I would break the treadmill, since I’m somewhere in the 240 range.

So yes, there are some downsides. But compared to what has been available for the larger athlete (aka: virtually nothing), Woman Within has done a pretty darn good job, and I applaud them for it.

Oh, and right now? Most of the items in the catalog are on sale. Plus, to sweeten the pot, WW is offering a 20% discount on your entire WW Active order with sales code WWActive20 until 2/28/12.

Let’s support a good effort, and keep our criticisms constructive.

Ah, the winter holiday season! There’s a crisp snap in the air, homes are filled with the aromas of peppermint and ginger, the malls are potentially lethal, a very few people recall that there are holidays other than Christmas being celebrated, and the world is awash in body shame.

I can’t turn on my computer or television without being assaulted by messages that I’m going to gain gigantic amounts of weight this winter if I don’t stop being so greedy at the same table I’m supposed to fill with homemade goodies until the legs give out. Every ladymag in the universe has a picture of the perfect pie, cake, or souffle I’m supposed to make, alongside a reminder that gaining a single ounce from eating it means I will die well before my time, alone and unmourned as Scrooge in the vision shown him of his potential future. Every year some fanatic out there starts a campaign to make Santa skinny so that he can use his role model status to shame those who carry more meat on their bones.

But you know what? We can opt out of the insanity. We can spend this special time of year failing to hate ourselves. We don’t need to create the false dichotomy of too much food  that we are not allowed to eat. You know what we can do?

We can take care of ourselves.

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Let’s be honest here. Getting a Pap smear is no one’s idea of a good time. There are a lot of items on my list of preferred activities that rate well above getting escargot tongs stuck all the way up my hall of fame.

Shamefully, I put mine off for several years, not because I’m all that shy or, you know, have any sense of modesty at all, but of a terrible experience I had a few years ago at the Lady Doc.

I was all scooched down, feet in the stirrups like any good Texas girl and making as pleasant conversation as I could with this stranger in a lab coat about root around my nethers like a truffle pig with an air horn. She got down to business and when she was what felt like armpit deep in my lady garden, apparently trying to remove my tonsils from the inside, she decided THEN was the perfect time to lecture me about the perils of Teh Fatz.

Now, I’m not really all that sensitive about my size. Aside from a bit of auto-immune wonkiness I’m as healthy as an entire team of really healthy horses. My blood pressure, sugar levels, cholesterol…everything is great because although I’m fat, I’m in pretty damn fine fettle, but I got so mad at this woman, and was so humiliated that not only did I not go back to HER, I didn’t go back to ANYONE for fear of getting the same traumatic treatment.

Fast forward five years.

Before moving to Mexico, I knew I ought to get a complete physical and all the stabs and jabs I need to prevent me from getting the dreaded crud while living it up south of the border and while I was at it, I should probably get the south of MY border checked out as well. I asked my beloved and awesome in every conceivable way GP’s office for a recommendation.

I explained to them what had happened before –and okay, it was a little embarrassing, but it was easier on the phone– and they were gratifyingly aghast. Turns out my GP was able to do it for me, and when it came time to do the oh-so-familiar Scooch and Spread, the three of us in the room literally laughed the whole time.

The moral of the story is the same one that circulates all over the fatosphere: You are entitled to respectful medical care. Yes, even though you’re fat, you’re still a human and are entitled to be treated with human decency.

If it’s been a while since you’ve had your clam jammed by a medical professional, do yourself a favor and make the appointment. Explain –hell, you can even steal my story– how you don’t want to be lectured about your size. If you joke around it’s a little easier, but don’t let the Fat Shamers win. It’s your body and your health. Take care if it, and take care of yourself.

Remember, everyone: there’s still time to change your plans.

I’m talking about having Thanksgiving with your family.

No, I’m definitely not saying that Thanksgiving with your family is a horrible idea. I don’t know your family. A family Thanksgiving may be just what you need to make you feel fantastic and confident and joyful for the rest of the year… I’m just saying not all families are created equal. And not all families are healthy for us to interact with during the holidays.

If your family feels no meal is complete without a side of body shame or the ritual humiliation of the fatty at the table, don’t go. Don’t do this to yourself. Really don’t do this to yourself if you’re expected to cook the feast, but accept that every mouthful will be accompanied with snide remarks about whether you really need the calories.

Nobody deserves to be treated that way. You don’t deserve to be treated that way.

Now if you have already made the plans, bought the turkey, and polished the silver, well, okay, you may have to go through with the dinner as planned. But that doesn’t mean you need to put up with abuse at your own table. Here are a few tips to help you get through the ordeal, and a couple to break the cycle afterwards.

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I think stressing over taming the topiary is sort of a young woman’s game.

The general consensus is men “expect” girls whose downton abbey looks like Atlanta after a visit from General Sherman because of porn. Now, I don’t actually believe any guy over the age of 23 can possibly be THAT clueless, but you know what?

If a guy’s understanding of sexual congress comes from repeated viewings of “White Men Can’t Hump” you probably shouldn’t be sleeping with him in the first place. That one was a freebie. You’re welcome.

Still, it’s your hair and you can do what you want with it.

I’m prone to ingrown hairs and my new beach bunny lifestyle (I think I mentioned it on twitter or Facebook, but I’m moving to a little Mexican beach town) is a lot more swimsuit intensive.

It’s also a lot more gettin’ some intensive and the pleasantness of either encounter is not enhanced by painful red bumps.

A few years ago a guy I asked a guy I worked with how he got his head so smooth. He told me he used Magic Shaving Powder, which was specially formulated for African-American men to prevent razor bumps/ingrown hairs.

I thought “hey, why not?” and now I look back upon my prior adventures in hair removal with the bitterest of laughs.

Of course the law firm of C.Y.A. & Associates requires me to tell you this product is not for use on your lady parts and should be used only as directed, so to be very clear: I am not recommending you do this, I’m just saying what I did.

Magic Shave comes in either a powder or a cream.

I use the powder because I can control the thickness of the paste and you get more bang for your buck. Scoop some powder into a bowl or plate –I use the lid from an old pint of a gelato because I’m elegant like that– and mix it with cool water until it has the texture of slightly thin toothpaste.

Spread it all over the desired area –I use the back of a plastic knife– and let that stuff percolate for a few minutes. You’re supposed to keep the area moist, so I keep a mist bottle around, but you could just put a damp paper towel atop the whole works. The directions say to leave it on 5 to 7 minutes, but I go for an even ten. Then rinse it off using the ol’ washcloth and cool water treatment.

The smell is not pleasant, but I find it a lot less offensive than Nair and at least it vanishes instead of lingering like a creepy guy at a Chuck E. Cheese ball pit the way other depilatories do.

Now here’s the clincher.

Bump Stopper 2.

Seriously gang. I don’t know what I did without it.

I just rub a teensy bit of the thick unscented cream on when I wake up and once again when I go to sleep & I’ve been ingrown-free since using it except for once and it vanished in two days. Plus I swear it stops regrowth from being itchy.

Of course you’ll want to do a test patch for both of these products first and follow all directions and wash behind your ears before you go to bed, and sit up straight get a real job and start giving me some grandchildren. I’m not going to be around forever you know.

*deep sigh*

So here’s the deal. Over the years I’ve had a good number of emails in re: the more intimate side of life as a big girl and I almost never answer. I know, that makes me a Very Bad Blogger Indeed but I can’t help it.

I believe what happens behind closed doors is none of my damn business unless you’re my next door neighbor in which case pipe down Susan Lucci, no one’s gonna give you an Emmy for THAT.

Then I got to thinking about the things I wish someone had told me when I was even younger and more impressionable than I am now and decided to impart the little wisdom I’ve gathered through the ages and stages of my sexually active life.

I’m putting this behind a jump, because although I’m doing my best to keep it respectable, this is an adult adult subject matter so if you’re a delicate petal or work in a particularly strict office, you might just want to skip it.
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