From the Archive: So, are you trying to lose weight?

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in January 2014.

I have been following vegan blogs and Twitter accounts pretty frequently since my month-long foray last year, and in doing so, I've encountered a depressing amount of fat-shaming.

There seem to be a lot of places touting veganism as a hot new way to lose weight, and frankly I'm pretty sick of it.

I am NOT doing this to lose weight. As I say in my FAQ section, I practice Health at Every Size and am a believer in fat acceptance. I am a fat woman and will likely stay that way.


I have a checkered and troubled history with dieting, as do many women nowadays, especially those of us who grew up as the chubby kid. I was on and off diets from the age of 8 or 9 until I swore them off entirely in my mid-20s. Name a weight-loss company or fad diet, and I've probably tried it. At one point (the last straw, really) I even did one of those liquid things that keeps you at caloric levels below what might be considered torture if it were done on prisoners of war. Oh, and that was supervised by a "doctor" who also prescribed me Phentermine, which was one half of Fen-Phen. Which, you know, killed people.

If anyone is going to come at me with how terrrrrrrible it is to be fat, I'm going to point you here, here, here, and here.

I've seen too much anti-fat bias in the vegan community. It needs to end. There have been fat-shaming PETA ads (they are one of MANY reasons I dislike PETA) as well as everyday, casual uses of anti-chub language all over vegan blogs and social media feeds.

This is NOT a weight loss plan. This is a way of eating that makes me feel good about my choices for animals and the environment, and makes my body feel better. It has nothing to do with the amount of adipose tissue residing under my skin.


This is a body positive vegan blog.

From the Archive: Enough with the protein question, already

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in January 2014.

Inevitably, if you are vegetarian or vegan, people are going to ask you how you get your protein. After restraining yourself from saying "by drinking the tears of my enemies" or "feasting on the unborn," you may want some information on how to actually answer the question.

I'm going to pull a few things from the Vegetarian Resource Group to show you. All of the following foods are vegan and have a decent amount of protein in them:

1 cup Oatmeal - 6g
1 cup Soymilk - 7g
1 Bagel -  9g
1 cup Vegetarian Baked Beans - 12g
5 oz firm Tofu - 11g
1 cup cooked Brown Rice - 5g
2 Tbsp Almonds - 4g
2 Tbsp Peanut Butter - 8g
1 cup cooked Lentils - 18g

That's just a few examples from their sample meals. They've got a list with more detailed information about various protein sources including tempeh, beans, quinoa, vegetables, nuts, and pastas.

Basically, if you are eating a balanced diet, you are getting plenty of protein.

(Now stop asking, non-veggies.)

From the Archive: I don't want to associate with fat-shamers

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in January 2014.

I recently requested to join a "vegan humor" group on Facebook (what? Vegans have a sense of humor?! Gasp!), and was somewhat dismayed with what I saw.

You guessed it, fat-shaming.

I don't clearly remember all of the stuff that I came across, but there were at least a couple that related to animals who had gotten fat by eating fast food. First of all, that's not even original. The "lol, McDonald's makes you fat" trope has been happening forever. Don't insult me with lazy comedy. Second, it's not based on truth. Fat people don't have significantly different lifestyles than thin people. Individuals have different sizes and shapes across the spectrum of eating and movement regiments -- from couch potatoes to Olympic athletes. Stop spreading misinformation. Third, you're being hateful and rude. Don't do that.

Needless to say (I assume), I left the group. While technically the admin seems to have decreed that body-shaming wasn't allowed, these posts were still up, and any dissent against them was thinsplained away. Not worth the aggravation.

But here's the most important part: I don't want to associate with people who think that kind of hate is funny or clever. The internet is a place where I have forged friendships, and I prefer not to have those sorts of individuals in my life. I don't stand for bigotry, and I don't want to make friends with people who do.

From the Archive: Funemployment is a lie

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in May 2012.

That might seem a little harsh. But I keep hearing the term "funemployment" and to me, it's wrong (it's also short-sighted and privileged; we can get into that in a bit). For me, being unemployed has not been fun.

Since I finished grad school in December 2010, I haven't been able to find a full-time job. It isn't for lack of trying or laziness, contrary to some Republican 1% views. I can't even begin to count how many applications I've sent out in the past year and a half. I've tried for jobs that seem ambitious, jobs that I think I'm overqualified for, jobs that excited me, jobs I'd have to acquiesce to performing every day, jobs withing my field, jobs outside but vaguely related to my field, day jobs like retail and bartending, basically everything you can imagine. I've considered NYC Teaching Fellows and the Peace Corps as back-ups.

I've had some freelance work and part-time gigs, but still nothing lasting or full-time. And then, in March, the job that was my primary source of income (but still part-time) informed me they were low on funds and couldn't pay me. So I was let go, though with the caveat that they'd like me back if they got their act together and I was still searching.

So aside from a once-a-week unpaid knitting column, two short (volunteer) shifts for a punk news blog and the occasional photo slideshow (the only one that pays a little), I've been unemployed for nearly two months. It sucks. I've been sending out my resume everywhere that I can, and I've had two interviews -- one was on the phone, and I didn't make the cut to in-person, the other got as far as a writing test, but I still didn't get it.

I know, there are a few perks. I can sleep late and run errands in the middle of weekdays when the city is less crowded. But that's about it.

Want to hear the downside? I am almost out of money. I'm still living with my parents with no prospect of leaving any time soon. I feel like a worthless human being, who contributes nothing to the world. Basically, it's like I'm in a waiting room, biding my time until my life starts.

So I'm going this week to meet with a staffing agency. It isn't a career move. They only do receptionist and office work, and just temporary assignments. But it's something. It gets me out of the house and making a little money while I work on finding a longer-term position. I hope it works out, because I need it to.

I said we'd get to why the term "funemployment" is privileged and short-sighted, and here it is: anyone who can use the term is very lucky. You've clearly got something keeping you going, whether it's a trust fund or savings from a past job, or a supportive partner, or whatever. Many people who are unemployed are far worse off. I'm not including myself in that because I have parents who let me stay with them for free. But there are millions out there who are unemployed and having no fun whatsoever. They are losing their homes, relying on food stamps to feed their families, and falling way behind on bills. They aren't relishing in sleeping until 11:00 and wearing sweatpants all day. So that's another reason I don't like the term.

From the Archive: A Short, Angry Letter to Fish's Eddy

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in September 2011.

Have you seen Fish's Eddy's "Intervention Ware"? (This plate is the worst in my opinion.) Well, I just did and they inspired me to write this letter:

Hi,

I just thought you would be interested to know that I was recently alerted to your "intervention" plates, and as such, I will no longer shop at your store.

We live in a size-biased, fat-hating society that constantly tells women (and men, but it's worse for women) that they are not good enough based on their appearance and their ability to conform to an arbitrary beauty standard. Fat people are discriminated against and mocked. We have girls as young as 5 going on diets and suffering from eating disorders and merchandise like this is contributing to that problem.

I have spent my entire life being bullied based on size and I do not need a store to continue this trend.

You have officially lost a customer. I will soon be moving and, as such, will need dinnerware. Under other circumstances I would have come to your store to get it, but now I think I will take my business to somewhere that doesn't make me feel like less of a person because of my appearance.

I know it's short, and it's not my most eloquently-written angry letter, but it gets the point across. I mean, anything sold with the slogan "serve up a heaping scoop of guilt!" has to be stopped.

From the Archive: Why I don't want a 10 to be considered "plus sized"

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in June 2011.

Forgive me if this sounds like a half-cocked rant. I'm really tired today but felt like I needed to say something.

I saw that the site Refinery 29 is launching a site for "plus size ladies size 10 and up." My reaction, instead of being glad to see that, is that I am decidedly not OK with a 10 being considered plus sized. (Note: all clothing sizes I refer to are U.S. measurements.)

It's not because (as someone actually said to me on Twitter) I think 10 is "normal," which, of course, indicates that plus sizes are a deviation from that. It's not because I think "plus size" is an offensive label or that it somehow damages the otherwise-socially-acceptable size of 10. It's because plus sizes need to keep aiming up, not down.

As it is, the smaller end of plus sizes -- currently the standard is to start at 14 -- get the bulk of the good stuff. There are more options, more representation in models (though plus models are still overwhelmingly too small), and more mainstream recognition. Once you pass, say, a size 20 or 22, you're in a proverbial no-(wo)man's land.

I can only sort of speak from experience on this. The largest I have been is about a 22/24 (and the smallest in my adult life is about a 16), so I have never really faced what it's like to be someone who needs a 28, 30, 32, or larger.

What I experienced is that once your size has a 2 in front of it, there is an immediate drop in options. Lines that brag about how they are making plus sizes and are suddenly oh-so-accepting-and-awesome don't really cater to anyone high up there. When Forever 21 first introduced plus sizes, they included 1X and 2X. That's not exactly much of an extension, especially when you consider that they also run small. Now, they have corrected themselves a little, going to 3X and adding in more styles. But that still excludes a lot of people.

So my reason is that including size 10 in the line of plus means the border is even lower, so women who wear sizes higher than 20 will be considered even farther outside the threshold between straight and plus sizes. In a world where lines already cater to the smallest plus size possible, the last thing we need is to have that size be even smaller. It's not because I think being called a plus size is a bad thing. It's because too many other people do, so to be further outside the so-called norm will be incredibly damaging to a group that is already too often excluded.

From the Archive: How not to write obnoxious how-to posts about check-splitting

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in March 2011.

For some reason, this piece from The Awl about splitting restaurant bills has been making the rounds in the internet circles I run in.

(This isn't actually about writing how-to posts, but I found The Awl post and some of the responses I've seen very obnoxious. I guess I'm really just adding my own reply, which is probably equally obnoxious, but seriously, people. Cut it out.)

It says, basically, if you are under 25 you can pay for what you ate but once you pass the quarter-century mark you should suck it up and split evenly, even if you don't drink or your food was cheap.

That's dumb.

I know, I'm not far past the 25 mark (I'm 27). But I generally think the paying-for-what-you-ordered route is the fairest one. From what I've read by people who work in restaurants, it's really not that big a deal for a server to split up checks or to put different amounts on different cards. Toss on an extra dollar in tip each if you're worried about being a pain. Or bring cash, which means you can pay what you owe and not give the server any extra work.

Because here's the thing. Though Jill at Feministe may think I'm an "ass" for this, I'm not going to pay extra for someone else's choices when they are significantly more expensive than mine. I'm a vegetarian, which means my food is often at least a little bit cheaper. Especially if I'm being nice/a doormat and I agreed to go somewhere where all I can get is a side salad and some tiny appetizer. I'm not paying for someone's pricey meat entree when all I had was a vegetable quesadilla. I'm already being nice by agreeing to eat somewhere that doesn't cater to my dietary needs to make my friends happy, so I'm not going to pitch in extra dinero on top of that.

And likewise, if I drink at dinner and someone else didn't for whatever reason, I wouldn't expect them to pitch in for a $10 cocktail when they had iced tea. Sure you could argue that it evens out in the long run, but why take that chance when it's not difficult to divide a tab fairly?

So here's what you do: get the bill. Look at it. Find what you ordered and add up the cost. Then add between 25 and 30 percent for tax and tip. Then put that amount on the table. Once each person has done this, someone count the money and compare it to the total-plus-tip (if you're a really big group they may add in tip, so figure that out beforehand). Is there enough? Good. If not, start hitting people up for singles until you get there.

Is it perfect? No. There will always be someone who only wants to tip 10% and someone else who throws in an extra buck to cover for them, but it's a lot closer to being fair than just splitting evenly. Plus it involves math, and math is hard. Oh wait, we all have cell phones with calculators. So it's actually NOT hard.

Also, to respond to The Awl: if you have to start a sentence with "I really hate to generalize/be sexist here," then you are about to generalize and be sexist, so just stop talking. And as a less-cute girl, I have never seen any of my hotter friends do what you claim they do. Being pretty does not make people manipulative and cheap. Really, everyone comes up a dollar short here and there, and decent friends don't mind covering once in awhile (no matter what you look like, shockingly).

Honestly, though, I've never been at a group dinner where anyone wanted to just split evenly. Everyone I eat with (except my parents, who just pay for my food, hooray) throws in for what they had plus tax and tip. Or we ask for separate checks.

From the Archive: Writing to Congresspeople about H.R. 3

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in January 2011.

Judging by this site, my Representative is Congresswoman Nydia Velazquez. I think she's pretty lefty and is probably opposed to H.R. 3 anyway, but you never know, so I wrote a letter that I plan to send her. I guess now it counts as an open letter:

Dear Congresswoman:

Let me start by saying that I'm adamantly pro-choice. I believe that if a woman needs or wants an abortion, she should have it, no matter the circumstances. Her family, her partner, her doctor (barring legitimate medical necessity) and certainly the government should not get to dictate otherwise. It's her decision. I also believe that all reproductive health procedures - yes, including abortion - should be covered by whatever insurance the woman has. If it's private, fine, but also if it's government-based care like Medicaid. Even the procedures that make people uncomfortable should be covered.

I think that H.R. 3, which would limit access to abortion funds for rape victims based on the circumstances of the attack, is disgusting.

I'm not, at this point, a rape survivor. Luck has been on my side and I am not one of the 1 in 4 women who has been sexually assaulted.

So far.

Unfortunately, we live in a world where that could change at any time. It's something I think about when I walk home from the subway at night; when I have to cut through a park; when I meet a new man; when I get a drink at a party or a bar. Despite how cautious I am in all those situations, I could be attacked. Simply because I was born female, I have to worry about this.

John Boehner does not.

As a heterosexual, cisgendered man, the new Speaker of the House has likely never dealt with that sort of fear. He has probably never been cat-called on the street or had someone stalk him back and forth on a nearly-empty subway platform. No one will ever tell him he was asking for it; that he shouldn't have been drinking, shouldn't have accepted that ride home, or shouldn't have been wearing such a short skirt.

The same goes for most of the sponsors of the bill -- if you read the list, all but a few are male.

Congress has no business creating a hierarchy among rape survivors. All rapes are horrible, violent crimes by nature. Whether the attacker used physical force, drugs, coercion or some other method doesn't matter. Rape is rape, a crime is a crime, and a survivor deserves the dignity of having all options available to her (I say her, because while men do get raped, they will never need to seek an abortion after).

Sadly, we live in a world where I could rattle off a short list of friends I know to be rape survivors -- and I'm sure there are even more who haven't told me.

I don't know the details or circumstances for all of them -- and I don't need to. Each of them, along with all other survivors, deserves the same -- justice, of course, but also access to all the treatment they need and choose to have, including abortion. No matter how they got there.

And if my luck runs out and I am ever attacked, I would demand the same.

So I urge you to respect all sexual assault victims and preserve their dignity by voting NO to H.R. 3. It is a horrifying, appalling and unnecessary bill that will ultimately harm more people than it could ever help.

I urge everyone to write to their representatives about this. No matter who they are, but especially if you live in a district represented by one of the people who support this bill. Especially if you can inform them that next time you are in the voting booth, where they stood on this bill may influence what lever you pull (or button you push, or whatever).

Also, if you click on the link above and look at the full text, at least four of the sponsoring Representatives are women. That just makes my soul ache.

From the Archive: #DearJohn - another hashtag of note

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in January 2011.



This time, it's not horrifying the way #rulesforgirls was.

The #DearJohn hashtag started in response to the HR3 bill - which is on the surface about federally-funded abortion but more importantly would re-define rape to include ONLY instances of force. Rapes that involve coercion or drugs, as well as statutory rape and incest on anyone over 18, would not be covered if they resulted in a pregnancy that the woman wanted to terminate.



Basically, it's a giant clusterf@#$ that serves only to endanger women and empower rapists.

So some awesome feministas have taken to Twitter, much like they did with the #mooreandme tag, to address tweets to Speaker of the House John Boehner, explaining to the self-righteous, overly-spray-tanned disaster of a speaker that HR3 is disgusting, appalling and unacceptable. They are also directed at different members of Congress to urge them to vote AGAINST this terrible bill.

The original call to action (with hashtag) appeared on Tiger Beatdown. They also linked to a site where you can find your representative and write to them.



I don't know if a Twitter campaign can truly change policy. I'd like to think it can - it certainly shows that the people are unhappy with this bill, and theoretically it's the people that Congress was elected to represent. I'd like to think at least some Representatives see what their constituents think and act accordingly. It's also somewhat heart-warming to see people use social media this way. In between idiocy and terrible grammar, people are speaking out about something important.

From the Archive: My rule for girls is not to listen to sexist hashtags

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in January 2011.

OK, it's going to seem like a major idea rip-off, because Jezebel now has a post up on this very idea. But I have been rolling it around in my head, trying to think of something coherent to say that wasn't just a string of curse words. But I'll keep it brief, because now it's been covered.

The #rulesforgirls tag on Twitter is disgusting. Appalling. Horrifying. Etc.

And for awhile there, it was trending.

So it's a collection of "tips" for the ladies. That in and of itself is a bad idea - why do women need a whole separate set of rules to follow? I'm not sure if what's worse - the tweets that are deliberately malicious "jokes" or the ones that appear to be sincere.

There's a lot of "fat chicks shouldn't wear leggings/get tattoos/exist in public and be happy" and of course rules on properly conducting yourself regarding the sexytimes, but there are also lots of sad gender role upholding. For example, "cook for him in stilettos" and "don't behave like a dude." (I'm not entirely sure what that even means.)

And it looks like now there's a #rulesformen tag trending. Guess what? It's still pretty anti-woman sounding. It tells men what kind of women to avoid and what to have women do or not do for them. So, no matter who the tags are aimed at, they're still all about what women can do for men.

And don't get me started on why men are men but women are girls. Plus, Twitter grammar makes my soul die a little.

From the Archive: Public Fatness

"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.

This post was originally written in June 2012.

So, I hear all the time about fat people being subjected to harassment and ridicule for daring to be out among the general population. For some reason, it hadn't really happened to me (as an adult, let's not get into childhood bullies). OK, once a guy told me I needed to exercise more, but it was a cheap comeback because I yelled at him for riding his bike on the pedestrian path on the Manhattan Bridge. I'd never experienced an unprovoked attack until today.

See this guy? I was standing on the F train today, with my dad, headed to Coney Island for the Mermaid Parade (my dad was headed elsewhere). I had my earphones in, enjoying some quality time with most recent SFH album, when my dad pointed to this guy and said "I think he'd trying to tell you something." So I took out my earphones and looked over. The guy made a little running motion, then mouthed "one hour, every morning."


It clicked that he was telling me I needed to exercise more. So, loudly, I said "Are you telling me I'm fat?" Obviously, I am, and I know that, but I thought that would catch the attention of more people around us. My dad was like, "Is that really what he said?" So I (still loudly) said "He's telling me I need to go running every morning."

So I turned to the guy and said (yes, still loudly, and well enunciated) "That's none of your business." He got a little flustered and apologetic, but I continued, "You don't just make comments on random strangers' bodies."

At that point we arrived at the stop where my dad was getting off, and after I said goodbye to him I moved to another part of the car. But I also took this picture, because people who harass others on the subway don't deserve anonymity. If I knew this guy's name I'd say it. I'd tag it and post it everywhere, so whenever someone Googled him this came up. But I don't know his name, so all I have is a picture.

It's just another reminder that if you dare to be fat in public -- especially if you are a woman -- your body is not yours. There are people who think that because you are out of the norm, you should hear their opinion and "suggestions" for your body and your life. Because they assume they can tell how you live based solely on how much adipose tissue resides on your body. Of course, this happened in a city that wants to legislate away fat through arbitrary things like soda and bake sale bans.

Luckily, I am very confident in my body -- the one I've been living in for 28 30 years. I know that I am fat. I know my lifestyle, my health, my limits. I am not going to share any of that, because it's no one's business but mine. But because I am content with myself, I look back at this incident horrified at this guy's gall, but not feeling any worse about myself. If I were more sensitive about my appearance, this might have ruined my day. I hope he's never done that to anyone who might really suffer a blow to their self-esteem from it.