I'm Not the Woman at the Ballgame, But I Could Be

Recently, a hateful, fat-shaming photo surfaced on the internet.

OK, I'm going to have to be more specific.

A picture surfaced that showed a fat woman in the seats at a baseball game, taken from the back and clearly without her consent, with a caption that discussed how much she had eaten during the game, how many calories that was, and how "unhealthy" that made her. I'm not going to embed the appalling photo here and sully my blog, but if you really want to be enraged, you can view it on imgur.

To add insult to injury, a post was then released by "The Anti-Jared" claiming to be that woman, saying that she had lost a bunch of weight already and blah blah blah. But it actually turned out that that post was not written by the woman in the photo, it was written by this pathetic excuse for a blogger anti-Jared putting himself in her shoes.

This woman has been victimized and had her image used without consent not once, but twice now. As far as I know, she has not come forward or said anything, nor does she have any obligation to.

I'm writing this not to put any words in this woman's mouth -- enough others have already tried to do that -- but to point out that this could easily have been me.

I'm fat. Not curvy, chubby, plump, fluffy, or corpulent. Fat. If I were at a Cardinals game I would also be squished into the seats -- I know this because that's exactly what happens at Yankee Stadium. The seats are small and rigid and not made for fat butts. When I sit in them I squish uncomfortably, my belly and thighs forced out in different directions. If the human body wasn't somewhat malleable I wouldn't get in there at all.

I don't blame myself, I blame the stadium and those who designed it. I get that they want to put in as many seats as possible to sell, but there should be attention paid to human comfort. Yes, in case there's any question: fat people count as human.

I catch people staring at me on the regular. Before anyone jumps in and says "you're just saying that because you're self-conscious" or "you don't know what they're thinking" -- I know I don't. But I also know how the quantity and quality of stares change based on how fat I am (I have been varying degrees), what I'm doing, and how much I adhere to the arbitrary rules that say I should cover my body. I've had people take pictures (you're never as subtle as you think you are) and make comments to me. If I call out someone's lousy behavior (don't ride your bikes on the footpath, people!) the retort is always simply that I'm fat, as if that invalidates anything else about me.

So yes, you're damn right, I am self-conscious. I don't blame my fat for that, I blame the ways people respond to fat (mine and others'). I am very much conscious of the fact that people have bigoted notions about my body based on how much adipose tissue it contains and the way I feel and act about that. If I dare to eat, especially something that's deemed "bad," stares get worse. If I dare to sit down on the subway and my thighs touch another person, the stares get worse. If I dress in a way that makes me happy instead of wearing only muumuus in a black vertical stripe pattern, the stares get worse.

My fat is not the problem. Reactions to it are.

The woman at the baseball game is not the problem.

Whatever she was doing or eating is not the problem.

The fact that someone felt compelled to take her picture from behind, post it online with the express purpose of mocking it, and ascribe values and judgments to her entirely neutral behaviors is. The fact that someone else put a narrative in her mouth is a problem. Bigots who treat fat people as subhuman are the problem. Fat people are not. We have a right to exist in public, to eat what we want, to be as healthy or unhealthy as we want (or can be), to wear what we choose, and to live our own damn lives without input from anyone unless we ask for it. Our bodies are not an example to be made about some trumped-up issue plaguing the nation. They are our bodies. They are neutral. They deserve dignity and respect.

Professionalism and Oppression

Early in the life of this blog, I was trying to focus on being "adultish" -- which included some fashion and lifestyle tips and musings that reflected on acting more mature and professional. But lately, I've been wondering, what does that even mean?

At some point not too long ago, I was introduced to a site called Dress Profesh, which comes with the tagline "challenging notions of what it means to look 'professional.'" It shows people of all different sizes, races, and genders wearing what they work in. It really snaps into focus the fact that being "professional" is an arbitrary and often oppressive guideline.

A post was just going around a few days ago in which a college senior was rejected from a tech job because the guys that interviewed her claimed her outfit was more for "clubbing" than interviewing. There are plenty of people out there who think her tasteful top, skirt, sweater, and tights outfit is "unprofessional" because it's not a suit, ignoring the fact that tech companies are usually pretty casual, and in fact, overdressing too much can make an interviewee look out of touch with the culture of their field.

Regardless, insisting that everyone on the job hunt wear a suit is one of those oppressive things about the notion of professionalism that I take issue with. Suits are expensive. If you're long-unemployed, or you're a college student just starting out, even a find at Marshall's or a thrift store can be out of your budget. Plus, if you don't wear a straight size, or you are a woman with a large chest, it might be impossible to find anything that will even cover your body -- let alone fit well and be without cleavage -- especially when price is a dire concern. Additionally, if you are fat or busty (or both, like I am), there are some who will always classify you as unprofessional. No matter what you wear, being too fat will likely get you called sloppy, and simply having a large chest will get you classed as sexy or inappropriate.

There are racial implications, as well. Black people are often maligned for having natural hairstyles like Afros or dreadlocks -- women are generally expected to relax their hair and wear it straight, or wear a weave, to look "professional," for example. That is, if they even get an interview to begin with, since people with white/European sounding names are more likely to get called than someone with a more "ethnic" (for lack of a better word) names.

The idea of professionalism is outdated and ridiculous. It should be enough to say, perhaps, make sure you are wearing anything required for safety, your naughty bits are covered, you don't smell, and you aren't wearing hate speech symbols. Anything beyond that is unnecessary, and upholds a white supremacist, cisnormative, heteronormative, sexist, sizeist, kyriarchical structure.

Things Women of an Arbitrary Age Should and Should Not Do

I keep seeing clickbait posts from various sources (that I won't give the satisfaction of linking to) outlining all the things women (always women!) should and shouldn't do, wear, and have after certain milestone ages like 25 or 30.

Apparently, women of a certain and arbitrary age shouldn't wear cheap makeup, buy the clothes we like, decorate our homes to our own aesthetic, enjoy our own hobbies, or have any fun or joy left in our lives. All for the sake of being a proper adult.

Here's the thing: shut up.

I'm 31 years old, and I wear cheap makeup because that's what I can afford. I have concert posters hanging in my bedroom because it makes me happy to think about those events and the fun I had.

They're not even framed! I reserved framing for my own photography, which I also have hanging because it makes me think of the fun events I shot and a hobby that I love.

I buy shotglasses as souvenirs because they're cheap and small, which makes them easy to transport and display. I also have a handful of vinyl bobbleheads because they make me think of stories I like that bring me happiness, plus they're cute.

Here's my list of what people of any gender should and should not do at any age:

• You SHOULD decorate your home in whatever way makes you happy.
• You SHOULD NOT pass judgment on others for hanging the art they like, framing it or not framing it as they see fit, or anything else superficial.
• You SHOULD do whatever hobbies make you happy as long as you aren't actively harming another living creature.
• You SHOULD NOT judge anyone else's hobbies.
• You SHOULD wear clothes that you like and that make you happy, while keeping in mind occasion appropriateness and work rules (sucks, but those do exist).
• You SHOULD NOT make rude comments or judgments about others' wardrobe choices.
• You SHOULD take care of yourself in the best way that you can, keeping in mind that this means different things for different people based on abilities, life situations, and priorities.
• You SHOULD NOT assume that others' priorities about their own health and happiness are the same as yours.
• You SHOULD NOT apologize for your fashion choices, lifestyle, weight, gender identity, sexual preference, hobbies, health priorities, living situation, career choices, or anything else that is not harming others.
• You SHOULD NOT expect others to apologize for or explain any of those things.

That's it. I honestly don't give a squirt if you want to play video games, wear $1 lipstick, decorate your place like the inside of Austin Powers' jet, or rock the word "juicy" on your ass. Whatever makes you happy.

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.

Don't Fat-Shame. Really, Just Don't Do It.

Seriously. Just don't fat-shame.

There's no point to it. It doesn't make people magically thinner. Being magically thinner wouldn't make people magically healthier. It doesn't make you superior. It doesn't do anything positive.

All it does it promote bigotry. It makes people hate themselves. It reveals that you are an ugly and small-minded individual full of prejudice.

It's worse for fat people than actually being fat. It's degrading to mental health. It promotes stereotypes. Stereotypes have real implications.

It leads to fat people being hired less. It leads to fat people hearing rude comments shouted at them from cars. It makes people feel awful.

It hides behind some veil of "helping." People who fat-shame get away with it because they think they're encouraging fat people to de-fat themselves. And apparently de-fatting is the be all and end all of...something.

But it just causes pain. It leads to depression and isolation and prejudice. It causes nothing good and everything bad.

So just don't do it.

Nobody Believes I'm 30, and That's Actually Not a Good Thing

This post is probably going to sound like a humblebrag, but it's not. This is legitimately something that bugs me.

People don't believe me when I say I'm 30. When I moved into my apartment my roommates were surprised to hear it -- they thought I was about 25. And then yesterday at work it happened again.

I recently dyed my hair brown. I was trying to cover up the pinkish undertones that wouldn't leave after my most recent foray into purpledom, and to do so I had to go fairly dark. The woman at work commented that it made me look more mature, and I said, "well, I am 30." She was pretty shocked, because she thought I was in my twenties.

I'm not lying. See:

I'm 30. Not to mention 5'6" with brown eyes.

I inherited my complexion from my grandmother, who had beautiful skin. Even at her death at 87 she didn't really look her age. And I know that some day, likely not too far in the future, I'll be glad of this. But for right now it's annoying.

See, young women don't get taken seriously. We just don't. I know someone will try to argue that young people in general don't get taken seriously, but let's not split hairs: it's worse for women. We get talked over and mansplained, there's the obvious and well-documented wage gap, we get covertly and overtly discriminated against because the assumption is that a) we don't know anything and b) we're just going to leave next year to make babies.

I'm the second-youngest person in my cohort (and the youngest woman). It hasn't been too big of an issue, but I do sometimes feel that when certain topics come up my word isn't taken seriously. Like there's an unspoken assumption that I have less "life experience" and therefore can't speak with authority on some subjects. (That's not to mention the "you're young, you'll change your mind" I once got from someone when I mentioned I'm not planning on having kids.) I feel that having less of a personal attachment to some topics means you have a more distanced and objective viewpoint that can be beneficial. Not for everything (for example, I wouldn't presume to know more about racism, homophobia, or cissexism than someone who had experienced it), but there are places where distance provides clarity.

The things I've addressed here actually were a lot of the impetus for starting this blog and giving it this title in the first place. I know there have been many posts that don't have to do with adultishness (what, that's totally a word), but the spirit is still here. And I've been trying to present myself with a more mature persona. Hence the dark hair. I've also been trying to dress the part -- those cut up punk tees are only for casual lounging -- to maintain an air of professionalism. It's hard, of course, and not without its sacrifices. But it feels like something I need to do.

Respect and Big Life Decisions

Recently a friend linked to an article by the lovely Jen Kirkman called Stop Telling Me I'll "Change My Mind" About Wanting Kids. It is great, and articulates many of my own thoughts and views on the subject.

As someone who has no interest in procreating but is still relatively young, I still get told I will change my mind when I talk about not wanting kids. I can't even count the ways that this is rude, demeaning, and condescending. OK, I'll try.

First of all, it's none of your business why someone wants kids or doesn't, if they will change their mind, or what they would do in the case of an accidental pregnancy. If someone mentions in conversation that they don't plan to reproduce, that's not an invitation to start grilling them about reasons. It's a big decision, and an extremely personal one. Plus, your questions could be extremely painful if this person is infertile.

Telling someone they will change their mind is absolutely horrible. You are basically saying that you don't respect the decisions they have made about their own life based on something like their age, their marital status, or their living situation. Even if it's not what you would do, even if it's not the socially accepted life plan, you have to realize that individuals know their desires and their needs better than anyone else.

Plus, think about it this way: would you tell a young pregnant person that she is going to change her mind? What if the baby comes and they regret becoming a parent? I hope that doesn't happen much, because I'd hate for a child to grow up feeling unwanted. Yes, I care about children having good lives even though I don't want my own. But really, the average age for first pregnancy in the U.S. is 25. I'm four years past that. I would think if a 25-year-old can have her decision to bear children respected, a 29-year-old should be able to expect the same of her decision not to.

And if, by some strange twist of fate, I or anyone else does change their mind, so what? It would mean I arrived at a new decision through thought and careful consideration. And in turn, that would mean I would be prepared for the ramifications of said decision and sure of what I want. It's unlikely to happen, but I fail to see how someone has taken the massive task of parenting under careful consideration before choosing to do it is a bad thing.

The bottom line is, people get to make their own choices about their lives. Assuming they aren't hurting anyone, everyone else needs to respect what others do. Telling someone they will change their mind is not respect. It's condescension, and it's a pretty immature and rude thing to do.

Big Boobs and Double Standards

To introduce my thought, I'm going to show an image from Busty Girl Comics.

This pretty perfectly illustrates what I would like to say here about the double standards that come out based on body type. While I could probably write volumes about the issues faces by people who happen to be fat, right now I would specifically like to talk about breast size.

As someone who has a very large chest, I can say with certainty that we face a unique set of challenges. There are practical matters, like how bras with a cup size larger than DD are extremely hard to find, and those that exist are expensive and usually unattractive. Or how clothing can often fit everywhere else but strain at the chest. Or how we have back pain, difficulty with overhead roller coaster restraints, and awkward placement of over-the-shoulder bag straps.


For the most part, those are all things that are annoying but tolerable. What I cannot abide is the double standards issued by other people based solely on build.

So let's take a look at the image above. The two women in it are wearing the exact same shirt, but the one who is significantly bustier is being told she should dress more "appropriately" so she more closely resembles the smaller-chested woman. It seems safe to assume the cartoon is depicting coworkers and a manager. This is likely a setting where excessive skin is not allowed, which is the prerogative of whoever makes the dress code. Neither woman is showing much skin, as the top is relatively modest. The only difference is the size of the one woman's breasts, for which she is being admonished. She is essentially being told that her body is inappropriate and dirty.

The woman is being chastised for something she cannot control. I know, someone will probably try to point out that she could have a breast reduction, but why should she? She really should not have to go through the cost and pain of a major surgery like that unless she really wants to. And while everyone's experience in their body will be different, I can personally say that I would have to be in a lot of physical agony to consider that option.

The message of that response is that women should drastically and dangerously alter themselves to fit into an ideal of "appropriate." Personally, I don't find this suggestion to be appropriate. A pair of breasts under a shirt are not inherently inappropriate; they are just two mounds of fat and tissue that develop naturally in case you want to some day use them to feed offspring. Their sexuality is culturally assigned, which means it can be culturally removed.

The size of someone's chest doesn't indicate how sexual they are (and of course, sexuality does not indicate how smart or capable someone is), nor does fat indicate health or habit. Bodies are just bodies. We live in them and dress them and care for them the best that we can. What needs to drastically alter is the current paradigm of perception and judgment toward bodies.