Cut the crap!

Cerise writes:

I have recently noticed an alarming trend in our language.  It is a specific form of negative body-talk.  So many articles, ads, and women use very violent imagery when discussing parts of their bodies.  Think about it:  banish your butt, burn fat, carve off your curves, destroy your belly, slice your flab, melt your belly, dump your gut, kill your cravings, blast your thighs.  Is this a nice way to talk about yourself?  What would you say to a product that promises to destroy women's bodies?  Doesn't sound so nice now, does it?  What about slicing, cutting, burning?  Why is it okay to use language like this?

I can't decide where this language comes from.  Does it spring from our acceptance of violence against women in popular culture?  Does it come from our habit of insulting overweight people (and, for that matter, not-so-over-weight celebrities?)  Is it just an expression of the very real loathing some women feel for parts of their bodies?  

Well, stop it!  I don't care where it comes from.  It is not okay to talk about yourself or anyone else this way.  Don't buy products that promise to act out violence on your body.  Don't accept this sort of language.

When I took a college course on propaganda (very cool course, by the way), we discussed the insidious impact of propaganda.  Even if you are a very smart, educated person, it seeps into your thinking.  Even if you know it is propaganda, if it is repeated often enough, it soaks into your head.  Even if it is clumsy, stupid propaganda, if it is not contradicted, it is hard to resist.  Advertising is perhaps the most pervasive form of propaganda in our society.  Don't say it is trivial, it is not.  Don't think you can ignore it, you cannot.  But do not accept it.  Do not let it go unchallenged.  The best way to combat propaganda is to recognize it for what it is and to actively disagree with it.

Cream of Nothing Soup

In honor of the government shut down and the impending debt ceiling, I thought a frugal recipe might be in order.  Actually, this is a bit more than a recipe, it is more of a method.  First, the long form with comments and explanations.  Then, at the end, a summary of just the recipe. 

This will be a milk-based soup, partially because it is more filling that way, and partially because my family used to have access to government surplus milk and cheese.  Some of you may still get that stuff.  This will help turn it into a meal.  It is also a great way to use up leftovers, especially those tiny bits that are almost too small to save. 

Step 1

First, build up the flavor.  While you can make a soup without this step, your soup will be more filling and satisfying if you do more than just dump in some milk.  Melt two tablespoons of butter or margarine or bacon grease in a skillet over medium heat.  Oil will work in a pinch.  When fully melted add aromatics.  Aromatics are optional, but will help to raise the flavor of your soup from edible to sublime.  Aromatics may include onions, leeks, scallions, garlic, elephant garlic, dried onion flakes, herbs, finely minced carrots, bell pepper, or celery.  Add up to four tablespoons of these.  Cook until soft, but not brown.  You can use leftover cooked versions of the aromatics if that is what you have on hand.  Appropriate herbs depend on what else you will be adding.  Chicken and tarragon are lovely together, for example, and nutmeg goes with just about any cream soup.  Feel free to experiment and work with what you have.  Don’t add more than a teaspoon of herbs unless you really feel like you know what you are doing.  Although adding them to the warm butter will help maximize their flavor, you can always add more at the end. 

Step 2

Now add thickener.  Flour is easiest, if you have it.  You can also use corn starch, tapioca, bread crumbs, cracker crumbs, or oat flour, among other things.  Basically, you are adding a starch to thicken up your soup.  Go with what you have.  Add about two tablespoons, which is the same as the amount of butter you added (use only 1 Tablespoon if you are using corn starch or arrowroot.)  Stir thoroughly, scraping your spoon or spatula a bit on the bottom of the pan to make sure nothing gets stuck.  It will bubble and get thicker.  Cook, stirring frequently, over medium heat until the butter/starch mixture just starts to get a little bit brown.  This is called making a roux, which is a fancy cooking school term for cooking the flour and fat until it doesn’t taste raw any more.  If you know what you are doing, feel free to go for a darker roux if it will fit with your other ingredients.  You will probably need to cook the starch for 5-8 minutes.  Don’t wander off and talk on the phone or anything or you will burn everything.  If you do that, there is nothing to do but throw it out and start over. 

Step 3

Now you can add the liquid to your soup.  This is the largest part of the soup, the part that will make it filling and big enough to serve 2-4 people.  The basic liquid here is milk.  Dry powdered non-fat milk that has been reconstituted is probably the cheapest, especially if you are getting it as government surplus.  Milk, condensed milk, cream, soy milk (unsweetened), half-and-half and broth all work.  Feel free to mix these components to get at least two cups worth (that’s the same as a pint, if you are using milk and don’t want to measure.)  Use a little water if you have to.  You can even use some sherry or white wine, but I don’t suggest adding more than ½ cup or using beer unless you know what you are doing.  If you are using the optional starch in your bowls (see step 5), feel free to add up to 3 cups of liquid, but 2 is fine.  Of course, if you use broth instead of milky stuff, it won’t turn into cream of something soup.  It will just be soup.  That’s okay, but it isn’t what we are focusing on here.  Stir in your liquid.  It will look like the floury stuff will never dissolve into the liquid, but it will.  Keep stirring and maybe smushing on the floury stuff a bit.  When the liquid warms up, I promise the floury part will dissolve into it nicely.  You don’t have to stir continuously, but stir often.  You will notice that the whole thing will start to thicken, after maybe 5-10 minutes.  Once this process starts, it will get thicker quickly.  Don’t worry, if you let it get too thick you can always add more liquid. 

Step 4

Once it starts to thicken, add the “something” to your soup.  No, I don’t mean a secret ingredient that gives it a certain je ne sais quois.  I mean the ingredient that will dominate your soup.  You can call it cream of whatever this ingredient is, if you wish. Cream of broccoli, cream of chicken, cream of corn, whatever.  This is where you throw in up to a cup of leftover meat or vegetables.  Chicken, tuna, hamburger, salmon, beef, bacon, turkey, ham, hot dogs, sliced sausage, firm tofu, seitan, TVP, whatever you got.  Even hard-boiled eggs.  Just make sure it is already cooked and is cut into bite-sized pieces.  Canned chicken and tuna work well if you are short on leftovers.  If you are a little short on meat, cut it even smaller to help spread it around.  You don’t strictly need any meat or meat substitute for this dish, since the milk provides a lot of protein, but including some helps make the meal more filling and satisfying.  If you don’t have meat, don’t worry, just add more veggies.  Just notice that you are supposed to add a TOTAL of 1-2 cups of meat and veggies, not 2 cups of each one.  Good veggies for this include broccoli, corn, cauliflower, mushrooms, spinach, or a combination.  If you have more carrots than you were told to add as aromatics, you can toss in some diced, cooked carrots at this point, too.  Like the meat, the vegetables should be already cooked (fresh out of a can counts) and cut into small pieces.  Now all you have to do is stir and cook until the “something” is hot.  Taste the soup and “adjust the seasonings.”  That means throw in some salt, pepper, and any other spices until it tastes good to you. 

Step 5

Serving.  Presentation is an important part of any meal, but it is especially crucial when you are trying to turn “nothing” into “something.”  Presentation makes food more satisfying and can help your diners feel full and happy.  If you have it, add a starch to the bottom of each diner’s bowl.  Crumbled toast, bread, croutons, bread crumbs, crackers, corn bread, or leftover biscuits. (This is just about the only good thing to do with leftover cold biscuits in the whole world, unless you play hockey, so use them for this dish!)  You can also use cooked pasta, although I think that goes better with a broth-based soup, but use what you have.  Then add the soup to the bowls.  If you have it, top with something nice:  croutons, bread crumbs, crackers, corn chips, a sprinkle of fresh or dried herbs, cooked bacon bits, grated cheese, sour cream, plain yogurt, green onion, panko, salsa, something like that.  This makes it look pretty, which really is important. 

That’s it.  For the novice in the kitchen, I offer a few suggestions for what goes well together. 

Chicken, corn, and ½ teaspoon rosemary.

Canned salmon, dill, and peas.  (sprinkle additional dill on top)

Turkey, corn, and green beans with a small quantity of sage (start with 1/4 teaspoon, it is stronger than you think.)

Beef, carrots, and potatoes.

Spinach, hard-boiled eggs, and ¼ teaspoon nutmeg.  (Tastes better than it sounds.)

Ham, spinach, and a tiny bit of ground cloves. 

Bacon, green beans, and ½ teaspoon tarragon. 

In summary, here is just the recipe

Cream of Nothing Soup

2 tablespoons butter or other fat

1-4 tablespoons aromatics like minced onion

2 tablespoons flour or other thickener

2-3 cups milk or other liquid

1-2 cups meat and vegetables, already cooked and diced

1-2 cups starch (optional), evenly divided between four soup bowls

Optional toppings

Melt butter then add aromatics.  Cook over medium heat about 5 minutes, until soft but not yet starting to brown.  Add flour and stir frequently until it just starts to brown, about 8 minutes.  Add liquid and stir until flour base is thoroughly dissolved.  Add meat or vegetables, heat through.  Serve over the starch, garnish with optional toppings. 

Respect

R-E-S-P-E-C-T!

Find out what it means to me. 

Respect really does mean different things to different people.  To some groups, re-tweeting someone’s clever comment is a way to show you value and respect their opinion.  To others, respect might be shown in your attire or your body language.  There are generational differences in showing respect and I fear these differences are contributing in a breakdown in mutual understanding between generations. 

As a professor at a community college, I get to see plenty of disrespectful behavior.  It is largely up to me to decide what behavior I will ignore, what I will tolerate, and what I will do about the rest of it.  If students wear pajamas or come to class with uncombed hair, I ignore it.  But it is hard for me to avoid judging them, I admit.  It seems to me that dressing like that says they don’t want to be there, they are too busy for this class, they don’t think the class is important, and they don’t care what I think of them.  They are not showing respect, as I define it.  This is not a behavior I try to change because I have bigger fish to fry.  But I wonder if the students even know they are showing disrespect?  I am sure they would say they didn’t mean to, and that clothes don’t matter.   They are just outward things.  What should matter is how they do on the test.  Well, trust me, the students who can’t get cleaned up for class generally can’t get their act together to do well on the tests, although there are a few exceptions. 

If these students really don’t know how to dress for class and what messages they are sending when they fail to do so, how will they show respect when they WANT to do so?  By wearing flip flops to the White House?  If they need to go to a funeral, the most serious and formal of events in our culture, will they know what to wear?  Or how to act?  Will they know how to show respect when they actually want to be respectful?  I have a sinking feeling they won’t.  My husband recently attended a memorial service where other people wore jeans.  (And, no, they were not the ones digging the grave.)  Jeans, people?  Really?  What does that say about your attitude toward the bereaved?  I think it says: “I care enough to show up, but not enough to dust off my one suit and suck in my gut long enough to be respectful of the solemnity of this occasion.  Oh, and I’m going out for beer and wings afterwards.”  If this isn’t the message you want to send, then wear something else.  What message would wearing a dark suit or dress send?  Something like “I care a lot about your loss and your feelings.  I am willing to go to the small trouble of dressing myself properly as a token of my esteem for the life that has ended and for your religious traditions.  I know how to behave and don’t want to draw attention to myself on this serious occasion.” 

What about weddings?  These are much less solemn events, but they can be just about as formal.  People clearly do not know how to dress for these, either.  We won’t even get into the whole wearing tuxedos before 5 pm thing.  I mean stuff like wearing white when you are not the bride.  To me, and I think to the bride, too, it says “I don’t care that this is the most special day of your life up to this point.  I don’t care about your feelings or about it being your day to shine.  I want to wear whatever the hell I want and get all the attention that should be rightfully yours.  Screw you!”  Okay, this may not be the message you mean to send, but I can just about guarantee that it is the message the bride will be getting.  Maybe this is why I am still slightly pissed off that my mother-in-law to be wore off white to my wedding.  I still think she doesn’t like me very much, and her suit that day really didn’t help to change my mind. 

Why are clothes so important?  They are the first and loudest message you can send to someone.  But there are other ways to show respect and disrespect, too.  I recently performed at a school carnival with my dance troupe.  Some of the audience members were amazingly rude.  Two people in the middle of the front row texted on their phones the entire time.  Somehow, I doubt they were texting “OMG!  Awesome belly dancing going on!”  And even if they were, their behavior was still inappropriate.  Watching a live dancer or musician is not the same as watching TV.  It puts some responsibilities on you.  You are supposed to look at the performer, not at a tiny screen.  You are supposed to look like you are enjoying yourself, not like you are a brain dead zombie.  You are required to clap politely or wildly, depending on your inclination.  In certain forms of dance and music you are expected to yell, hoot, nod, keep time, or throw money.  If you want to attend these events, do what you are supposed to do.  If you want to pick your nose (I swear I am not making this up) or play Candy Crush on your phone, stay home and watch TV. 

Oh, you ARE paying attention to the performers?  You just don’t look like you are?  Tough cookies, people.  It is part of your job as an audience member to look like you are paying attention.  Yep, you have a duty as a participant in the live performance.  That’s part of the deal.  Even clapping is not enough. 

I had the pleasure of going to a ballet performance at IU this past weekend, too.  I was mostly impressed with the attire and behavior of the audience, which included small children and quite a few high school and college students.  Most of them were dressed up and clapped with great enthusiasm.  Of course, a few people played with their phones while the performance was going on.  Trust me, people, the WHOLE cast can see your glowing screen and it IS hurting their feelings. 

Earlier that same day, one member of my dance troupe was so upset by the rude audience that she could hardly finish the performance.  We scrapped the audience participation part of our program because we were so pissed off.  This audience wasn’t willing to put on the effort to look at us, why would we think they would be willing to get up and dance with us?  Think how much worse it would feel to be on stage, busting your butt for these people, and to look out at the darkened theater to see 5 or 6 glowing screens because they are so bored they can’t stand to wait 5 minutes to screw around on their phones! 

I cannot swear to it, but I kind of have a sinking suspicion that the people who were at the ballet and wearing short-short denim cut offs and flannel shirts with holes were the same people who were texting during the performance.  Because their clothes said “I don’t give a shit about the performance or the performers.”  And their phones did, too. 

Is it any wonder I don’t let my students use their phones in my class?  

Self-Compassion

Cerise writes:  

            You surely have heard the saying “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  This usually means something along the lines of “Be nice to other people.”  But I know that far too many people, women especially, are much harder on themselves than they are on others.  Whether it is impossible expectations, self-talk, or even never taking a minute for oneself, we can be so unkind to ourselves!  I, myself, am certainly guilty of treating myself in ways I would never, ever treat a friend or, for that matter, a total stranger. 

            If I drop something, I say I am “stupid, clumsy!” and I am lucky if I stop there.  Do you say this?  Do you think this way?  If you saw a total stranger trying to carry too much and she dropped one thing, would you yell at her “Hey, stupid!  You’re a klutz!”  Well, I certainly hope you wouldn’t.  But do you do it to yourself, silently or even out loud?  Well, stop that! 

            It’s not just hurtful self-talk that I am thinking of.  We do things to ourselves we would not do to another person, either.  Do you make yourself skip meals because you are too fat, or just too busy?  Would you ever deprive another person of a decent meal for the same reasons?  Then why are you doing it to yourself? 

            If you make a silly mistake, forgetting to pick up milk for example, do you hit yourself on the forehead, even in jest?  Would you actually walk up to another person and slap them on the head if they tried to do too many things all at once and forgot one little detail?  Then don’t do it to yourself!  When you say or do things like the forehead slap, you are belittling yourself in a totally unacceptable way.  And you are sending the message to yourself that it is okay to let other people treat you that badly, too.  I certainly hope no one ever hits you, dear reader, but they might pick up on the idea that it is okay to devalue you when they see you doing it first. 

            If you are waiting for someone else to make you feel better about yourself, to make you stop wanting to insult yourself, you better not hold your breath, sweetie.  This is not a fairy tale, there is no Prince Charming.  You need to do the job of taking care of yourself.  It is not okay to be your own worst critic.  If you aren’t nice to yourself, do you really think anyone else will be?  You need to stop putting yourself down, even in jest.  You need to be nice to yourself.  Think before you hurt yourself, no one deserves to be treated that way.  Not by anyone.  Not even you. 

A Few Self-Care ideas

1        1.  Pay yourself a compliment.  Sincerely.  Maybe say it out loud.  Maybe more than once. 

    

          2.  Take ten minutes to do whatever you want to do.  Not what you should do, but whatever you feel like doing.  If you never do this, it might take a bit of thinking to connect with yourself and discover what you really would like to be doing right now.

          3.   Wear something that accents your best feature.  That means you have to actually know your best feature.  If you have trouble with this, then you really need to do it!

            

An Introduction to the Church of the Free Boobs

Cerise expands on a previous post:

The Church of the Free Boobs

This new, universal Church is hereby established to further the acceptance and appreciation of unbound, braless breasts, in all their shapes, sizes, and forms.  The need for such a denomination is abundantly clear.  Not only are braless breasts maligned in the media, but braless women are attacked verbally and physically without cause or provocation.  Natural breasts are unappreciated, mocked, and abused.  This Church will offer a refuge and support for those who suffer from this abuse, and will espouse the cause of self-acceptance to all the world. 

Sacraments of the Church

1.     The sacrament with which neophytes should first acquaint themselves is the Revelation.  This is the actual removal of a bra from previously oppressed breasts.  For many postulants, this sacrament will be needed daily, as the wearing of bras is all too common in this tarnished world.  The Revelation may be performed alone or with the assistance of another member of the Church.  Sighing and singing generally follow the Revelation, but are not actually required. 

2.     It is a widespread misconception that the Burning of Bras is the principal rite of the Church.  This is not true.  Burning was never common, but its theatrical nature attracted much notice, unfortunately eclipsing many of the other activities of the Church.  Today this ritual is primarily observed for its historical significance, in honor or our courageous foremothers.  The Burning of Bras should only be performed carefully, with due regard for safety and environmental correctness, and on rare occasions.  Burning is not forbidden, but is not encouraged.  Many bras can be recycled, either to perform their original function or to serve other purposes (slingshots, kitten hammocks, skullcaps, etc.)  Paper effigies of bras may be burnt to prevent waste and avoid expense. 

3.     One of the highest sacraments of this Church is celebrated in dance.  Dance has long been associated with the sacred feminine and with the expression of ecstatic emotion.  As such, it is particularly suited to the rituals of our Church.  The particular sacrament performed during the liturgical dance is sometimes called the Shoulder Shimmy.  Although the sacrament appears to be centered on the breasts, the dancer will soon learn that the movement begins with the shoulders and is then divinely manifested in the breasts.  It is not necessary for this sacrament to be performed in the nude, although bralessness is encouraged. 

4.     Another sacrament dear to the maternal, nurturing heart of this Church is often maligned and attacked by the less enlightened.  This sacrament is the nursing of a child.  For obvious reasons, some members of the Church may never have the opportunity to perform this sacrament, but they can support and assist in the ritual by such actions as fetching drinks and pillows for the celebrant.  This sacrament may be performed in any and all places where there is a nursing mother and child present, and is protected by law.  Do not allow anyone to intimidate you or others in the celebration of this sacrament!  It is to be embraced and respected, not hidden.    

5.     A less well-known, but no less sacred, ritual is generally performed in private rather than public.  This is the rite of Self-Acceptance.  It varies with the needs of the individual celebrant, but it may include going naked, looking in the mirror, and positive self-talk.  Wearing perfume, jewelry and body paint may enhance the experience.  The neophyte is encouraged to embrace this ritual as the first step toward enlightened freedom. 

Clarifications

Breasts are defined as the area on the frontal side of the ribs.  There is no limitation on gender, sex, or size.  All breasts are welcome in this church, male or female, and all are equally beautiful.  No breasts are privileged above any others. 

The wearing of bras is not forbidden by the Church.  However, the requirement that bras be worn is anathema to the Church and violates the very principles upon which it is founded.  If breasts of all shapes and sizes are accepted as equal, then perky, firm, or motionless breasts are in no way to be favored over saggy, jiggly, or braless breasts.  It is a firm belief of this church that what you wear under your clothes is a personal decision and must remain your choice.  That choice is far more important than any shred of lace or scrap of elastic. 

It is important to remember that many members of the human race are not as enlightened as the members of our Faith.  Their ignorance should be met with patient forbearance.  For instance, if an ill-informed woman maligns the state of her own breasts, she might benefit from a patient statement of the core beliefs of this Church, but she should not be attacked just because she is not as far along the path to Enlightenment as some others might be.  Of course, those who attempt to interfere with the lawful and proper practice of any religious beliefs, including those of this Church, should be either ignored, scolded, or sued, as appropriate.  The Church does not encourage physical violence.  Two wrongs do not make a right, and winning a large settlement is so much more satisfying, anyway. 

Moderation in all things

This blog post was inspired by the post by the Chocolate Priestess on August 23, below.  Cerise writes:  

Balance is all.  Moderation in all things.  The Golden Mean.  These are noble goals, but it seems to be so hard for people to achieve them.  Especially in the United States, we prefer to go to extremes.  Moderation is so much better for us, but we’re not very good at it. 

For example, I, like the Chocolate Priestess, try to keep the environment in mind when making purchases and running my household.  This effort often aligns with my natural frugal tendencies.  If I can avoid buying something we don’t need, I will save money.  If I can make do with something we already have, I save more money.  If I have to buy something, maybe I can find it used, which saves me money and keeps things out of the landfill.  But I can’t always follow the most environmentally correct path, especially because my health conditions really cut into the amount of time and energy I have.  For instance, I can’t use an outdoor clothesline because my allergies would go nuts if I slept on pollen-dusted sheets.  So I try to line-dry a lot of things indoors, and never over-dry the other clothes by letting the dryer run longer than necessary.  For me, this compromise is a moderate, realistic plan. 

I have recently seen some households that make different choices.  For example, my parents and in-laws do not recycle.  Not a single thing.  Not paper, not aluminum cans, not even those ubiquitous plastic bags that every store tries to give you.  Nothing.  They laughed at us when we wanted to take some of our “trash” back home to recycle.  They said it was too much trouble.  Is it really any more trouble than taking out the trash? 

Now I will admit that we don’t take the recycling to the recycling center as often as we could, preferring to wait for it to turn into a small mountain in a corner of the garage, but it really isn’t that much trouble to recycle.  Yes, we have to drop off our own recycling, because we live outside of the city limits.  On the other hand, we don’t have to pay anyone else to pick up our recycling.  And I drive by the recycling center several times a week, anyway.  (I wonder if driving to the recycling center would otherwise negate the benefits of recycling?) 

At the other end of the spectrum, I recently visited a friend who is far more environmentally correct than I am.  She is pregnant and has a toddler, and she still finds time to do more than her fair share to save the planet.  Perhaps being a parent provides a special motivation for wanting to keep the planet in good shape for the next generation?  She is getting ready to move and she is packing with reusable storage totes and fabric for padding, rather than buying boxes and packing paper.  She was even talking about feeling guilty for not turning banana peels into chutney because she doesn’t have time.  She laughed and admitted that you can only do so much.   Trust me, dear, you don’t need to feel guilty for not eating your banana peels!  Maybe when your kids are older you can experiment with that recipe.  If you really want to. 

I think what I am trying to say is that moderation in all things extends to self-compassion.  Don’t be too hard on yourself when you can’t do it all.  You don’t have to be perfect.  You don’t have to save the world single-handedly.  Just do the best you can, with what you have, where you are.  Don’t let guilt spoil your enjoyment of life.  Give yourself a pat on the back for what you do accomplish.  Whether we are talking about recycling, cleaning house, working, spending time with your family, volunteering, or making home-cooked meals, high-achieving women tend to feel that what they do is never enough.  They feel they should be doing more.  But being realistic and taking care of yourself, too, will ultimately be the best thing for you.  And that will lead you to be able to do the most for everyone else, too.  

Not interested in a diet, thanks.

Cerise writes: 

Actually, I don’t want to lose weight, thanks.  Yes, I have noticed that I am fat, but I’m okay with that.  I am not on a diet, I don’t want to hear about the latest fad diet, and I don’t hate the way I look.  For me, at least, there are two ways to deal with the way I feel about my body:  accept it or hate it. I would rather not hate my body and try to starve it into submission. 

I tried that, when I was younger.  I was anorexic.  I was five foot eight and I weighed less than 100 pounds.  Actually, I sometimes weighed less than 90 pounds.  At 100 pounds, my body mass index would have been 14.8.  At 90 pounds, it would be 13.3  The lowest healthy body mass index for women is 18.5.  By the way, the online BMI calculator I just used told me that 90 pounds for a height of 5’8” was “healthy.”  Apparently it is not aware that a BMI below 17.5 is one of the criteria for anorexia. 

And I thought about food all the time.  I was always hungry.  Did you know that if you are hungry enough you get a buzz?  Sort of like a runner’s high.  I was addicted to that high.  Of course, I was still not happy with the way I looked.  I thought I was fat.  I despaired because my ribs and hip bones were so huge and stuck out so far that I could never be truly skinny.  I was just big boned, so I would never be as thin as I wanted to be.  That kind of thinking seemed normal to me.  Perhaps because it was reinforced by so many voices around me:  my mother, other girls, advertising, even the textbooks in school.  Thinner was better, they said.  Having a healthy appetite was unfeminine.  Being beautiful meant being skinny.  Always being on a diet was normal.  I didn’t come up with those disordered thoughts on my own, I learned them from the society around me. 

I hope you all realize how ridiculous this weight-loss ad image really is.  

Like many teenagers, I was shy.  I didn’t want to attract attention.  The thinner I got, the less space I took up, the closer I got to being invisible.  I wanted to disappear, and I got as close as I could.  Those of you who know I studied ballet might think that part of the problem was the cult of thinness in the dance world.  For me, at least, that wasn’t the source of the problem.  My dance teachers were pretty healthy in their attitude towards weight.  They urged us not to eat junk, but to choose real food.  And they also told me to gain weight, that I was too thin, that I would have more stamina if I wasn’t so skinny.  They are not to blame for my anorexia. 

When I look at photos of myself back then, I am horrified at how thin I was.  I looked awful, not beautiful.  I looked like I had some sort of disease.  I did, anorexia is a disease.  It is not a choice, it is not normal, and it can kill you.  Why didn’t anyone notice I was starving myself?  Well, I was very good at pretending to eat.  And my parents were pretty busy living their own lives.  I ate breakfast alone, and I literally took two bites of cereal and threw the rest away.  I often skipped lunch, unless my best friend could convince me to eat something.  She knew something was wrong, she was worried about me.  I did eat an almost normal dinner, because my parents were watching.  They were firm believers in family dinner time.  But I got really good at pushing food around on my plate, hiding food in my napkin or my pocket, and just pretending to eat. 

I think that I sort of wanted someone to notice, to tell me to stop starving myself.  But no one did.  In fact, I got a lot of positive feedback for being so thin.  Other girls were jealous.  And my mother made me beautiful clothes, elaborate things like prom dresses.  She dressed me like a Barbie doll.  When I got to a normal weight, she pretty much stopped sewing things for me.  I guess it wasn’t any fun to dress me when I didn’t look like a mannequin any more.  I suppose it just goes to show that fashionable clothes are made for unnaturally skinny people, not for normal-sized folks. 

It is very odd to me that my current state of obesity inspires total strangers to tell me to eat less.  It makes friends and co-workers tell me about this great new diet.  It makes my mother give me diet books for Christmas.  But why didn’t my pathological skinniness make people speak up?  Did they, like me, believe girls should look like Barbie dolls?  (I admit, I’ve never had Barbie’s breasts.  But then, again, who does?)

Notice Barbie's shrinking swimwear!

Future topic:  how did I claw my way up from self starvation to fat acceptance?  

Mind Your Own Business!

Cerise writes:

            Several recent events have made me realize that some people need a reminder:  not everything in the whole wide world is your damn business.  And not everyone needs to hear your opinion.  But am I not just spouting my own opinions, here on this blog?  Perhaps a few examples will clarify what I mean:

            A friend of mine is deaf and has two small children.  Because she is deaf, she is eligible for a handicapped parking permit.  (This depends on the state.) Yes, that’s right.  It is dangerous for a deaf person to navigate a parking lot on foot when everyone else assumes they can hear.  If you can’t hear a car horn or even an idling engine, then you can’t get out of the way.  (Deaf people get killed and injured in parking lots all the time.)  And, as anyone with small children knows, your eyes simply cannot be everywhere at once.  My friend refused to use the handicapped parking permit for which she was eligible until she had two young kids to look after.  Then she admitted it would be safer for them if she didn’t have to try to watch them, hold on to them, and watch every car in sight while she crossed a parking lot.  Now she can park close to the door and keep her children safe.  But one day someone she had never seen before saw her parking (with her valid handicapped permit), hauling her kids out of the car, and heading into the building.  This total stranger took it upon herself to assume that my friend MUST be abusing the system since she didn’t LOOK like a stereotypical disabled person.  And then the stranger also took it upon herself to confront my friend and start scolding her.  My friend is pretty good at lip reading, but it is a difficult skill, made more difficult when you are startled, have no context for what the other person is saying, don’t know the person, or are trying to lip read someone who is yelling at you.  So she didn’t catch every word the stranger was spouting, but she is pretty sure some of the words were not suitable for her children’s ears (they can both hear.)  Then her adorable son burst in, “Stop!” he said, holding up his hand like a tiny policeman directing traffic.  “My momma is DEAF and you leave her alone!”  Well said, young man!  If you don’t know the situation, don’t assume.  And don’t butt in without enough information. 

            Perhaps not surprisingly, similar things have happened to friends of mine with heart trouble and myasthenia gravis.  There are plenty of serious disabilities that some ignorant stranger can’t see.  Don’t assume you know everything!  Better yet, don’t assume anything. 

            Maybe a better way to describe this admonition isn’t “Mind your own Business” but rather “Don’t Judge.”  Even judges and juries don’t make decisions without all the information.  And if they don’t have enough information, then they don’t make a decision at all.  What a great idea for the rest of us!

            Another, less extreme example, comes from my own personal experience.  I was eating at Wendy’s.  Not the pinnacle of healthy cuisine, I know.  But there I was, with my lunch.  I had two $1 hamburgers and an iced tea.  This lunch, by the way, is under 600 calories.  Not a huge meal, it could certainly be a part of a healthy diet.  But, I should add, I am fat.  Overweight.  Obese.  And all that fat is there for the whole word to see.  And so was the food on my tray.  I had not yet taken my first bite when a total stranger started to scold me.  Yes, an adult human being was being scolded by someone they didn’t know about what they were eating.  I was, honestly, totally flummoxed.  This stranger told me I had no business eating that much, that I was fat, that I was making it worse, and that it was my own fault.  I believe my response was something along the lines of a bewildered, “HUH?”  I might have also managed to say “Do I know you?”  The nosy stranger then started to tell me about her personal quest for fitness and weight loss with some herbal supplement that had changed her life.  Ah, I understood now:  this was all about her.  It wasn’t really about her desire to help me, to educate me, it was about her chance to show off, to feel superior to me. 

            Did she really think I hadn’t noticed I was fat?  That I needed someone to tell me?  Someone wrote into Miss Manners with a similar question, something along the lines of “My cousin used to be a very attractive, pretty girl.  But she has let herself go and has gained twenty pounds.  Should I tell her?  How can I tell her to get it together and lose weight?”  Miss Manners was, I have to say, a bit taken aback.  She asked if the reader really thought the cousin would say “Oh, my!  You’re absolutely right.  I hadn’t even noticed!  Thank you so much for pointing it out to me!”  Could anybody really expect that?  I can’t decide if anyone could be that stupid or if they really just want to feel superior to the fat person. 

            So the question is:  stupid or mean?  Maybe they just didn’t think.  I do believe there is an epidemic of speaking without thinking.  If you doubt me, take a look around this Internet here.  Plenty of writing without thinking, no?  So, please, the next time you want to judge, to criticize, to tell someone else how to live their life. . .  Stop!  Think:  do I have all the information?  Is my comment really going to be helpful?  Or am I just mouthing off for my own benefit? 

            I would like to clarify that this post is not meant to contradict another author’s post, “Speak Up for Your Own Good.”  Speaking out to help someone, to offer support is totally different.  In fact, speaking up to someone who insults or offends you might be the only solution to those people who speak without thinking first.  Like the little boy who had to say “Stop!  Leave my momma alone!”  Out of the mouths of babes?  

Do bras prevent sagging? And who cares?

Cerise writes:  Continuing my theme from last week:  you should be free to go without a bra, even if you have very large breasts.  (Like my 46DD’s.)

Oh, God, aren’t you uncomfortable you might ask?  Only when I feel obligated to wear a bra.  My breasts are happy breathing, jiggling, and just hanging out, thankyouverymuch.  It doesn’t hurt when they bounce, I promise.  When I have to wear a bra, they are not happy, and neither am I.

            Oh, I have tried all sorts of bras, fitted by professionals at all different sorts of stores.  I have spent over $100 on a bra.  I have tried altering bras to make them fit better.  Even if they fit perfectly, I still find them terribly uncomfortable.  Maybe because I have something called fibromyalgia, which causes me pain in my sternum, ribs, and shoulders.  Yeah, pretty much all the places that a bra presses on my body.  I used to attend a fibromyalgia support group and every single woman there said “Oh, my God, wearing a bra is so painful!”  (Uh, why do we do it, then?)  But even if I didn’t have this condition, I don’t think I should feel obligated to wear a bra. 

What if my breasts get droopy?  This is the question my mom asks, and it makes her crazy that I go out of the house without a bra.  So what?  She claims I will soon be able to tuck my tits into my belt, and then I won’t have to worry about a bra.  Well, then, our disagreement will be resolved, won’t it?  Actually, I am not terribly concerned about the threat of sagginess.  If they sag so much that it bothers me, I will then decide if I am willing to hoist them up with a painful bra.  Or I will just live with it. 

In fact, dear reader, bra salespeople may be scamming you.  Bras may not, in fact, keep your breasts from drooping.  They may even make it worse.  Gasp!  No, really.  To summarize the study, there seems to be more sagging in the bra-ed breasts than in the braless ones.  The theory put forward to explain the lack of sagginess in braless women is that their muscles adapt to supporting their breasts and the muscles of bra-ed women atrophy from lack of use.  If this sounds crazy, talk to someone who was a nurse in the 1950’s.  (Like my Grandmother.)  Women back then wore serious girdles all the time.  Some even slept in them.  When they went into the hospital for surgery or childbirth, they often had terrible back pain because, for the first time in years, they weren’t wearing their girdles.  Their back muscles had atrophied from lack of practice at supporting their own torsos!  It seems possible to me that the same thing could happen to chest muscles.  Use it or lose it, baby!  Okay, I admit this study only included French women and only went up to age 35.  Maybe my bralessness will come back to bite me when I am 80.  (But will I care?)

Believe it or not, not all cultures expect middle-aged women to have tits like a Barbie doll.  Why should we want to have teenager breasts when we are well beyond being a teenager?  Isn’t there something a bit odd about an 80 year old woman whose breasts are the same shape on top as on bottom, with no hint of drooping whatsoever?  I suppose that having perkier boobs makes you look younger.  But at some point, wouldn’t it just make you look ridiculous?  Sort of like a 75 year old woman in a neon mini-dress?  Who says that a mature woman with children should want to look like a skinny fifteen year old, instead of like the beautiful, experienced woman she is? 

Not all cultures admire perky, youthful breasts.  Some prefer a certain softness, even sagginess, because it shows maturity and implies a level of sexual experience that is seen as very, very sexy.  Surely you have seen the pictures of bare-breasted women in National Geographic?  There they are, braless and topless, totally unconcerned.  The men are not turning into ravening beasts, raping and humping like mad, by the sight of the breasts.  Nor do they seem disturbed or disgusted by the older or sagging breasts.  And the women are not embarrassed by their breasts, whether they are perky or saggy.  The breasts are just there.  Sort of like noses.  Just sticking out.  And it is no big deal. 

If anything, hiking your breasts up with a bra makes them stick out more.  It draws attention to them, makes them more obvious.  If that’s what you want, go for it.  But don’t try to tell me that a bra is more modest than no bra.  Bra wearing is a cultural construct that bra sellers have somehow made mainstream.  It is not a universal perception that bras hide your breasts and make them less conspicuous.  In her lovely cookbook/memoire, Bitter Almonds, Maria Grammatico recounts that the convent school girls were not allowed to wear bras because the nuns thought it was shameless to make your breasts stick out unnaturally, as a bra would certainly do.  I observed a similar attitude toward bras being unnatural and flashy when I was growing up in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, where the Native American population is around 30%.  My point is that bras are not inherently more modest than bralessness, it is merely our culture (with the help of underwear advertisements) that has decided it is so. 

           

            Oh, dear.  I had planned to discuss breast feeding in public today.  But it seems I have ranted on long enough.  Okay, breast feeding will have to wait for another day.  If you have any stories or comments on public nursing, feel free to leave them here and I will look a them before I write my next post. 

Other sources claiming that bras do not prevent sagging breasts:

http://www.webmd.com/fitness-exercise/features/sports-bras

Three studies, summarized in English, with citations: http://www.thenakedscientists.com/forum/index.php?topic=15913.0

Free the Boobs!

Cerise writes:  

            It has been over ninety degrees this week, so I feel this post is especially timely.  I won’t mince words:  I hate bras.  Now, I don’t have a problem if you want to wear them, collect them, or decorate them.  I just don’t want to wear one.  And some people have a big problem with that.  Especially since I am a 46 DD.  But, you see, I feel very strongly that I should be free to go braless, regardless of my size and shape. 

            Why would anyone else care whether or not I wear a bra?  I think I missed the day in school where they explained why women’s bodies should be subject to the control of others.  Because I totally don’t see why that should be the case.  Now, I admit, going braless is not as big a deal as, for example, being able to choose birth control, but I do think it is symptomatic of some rather awful things going on in our society. 

            One of these awful things is called “slut shaming.”  This is the pressure put on women to tamp down their sexuality, shut their mouths, and generally conform to the patriarchy.  If you embrace your sexuality, speak your mind, or rebel against traditional gender roles, you must be a slut.  And, apparently, being a slut is bad.  It means you deserve to be raped, beaten, or even murdered.  That you asked for it.  This slut shaming says “Well, of course she was raped.  She was alone.  In a bad neighborhood.  And she was dressed sexy.”  WTF?!?  I think a woman should be able to saunter down a dark alley at 2 am stark naked and the only thing anyone should say to her is, possibly, “Are you cold?  Would you like to borrow my jacket?”  Slut shaming not only denies women the right to flaunt their sexuality, it also robs them of their voice.  It says that if you are a slut, you don’t deserve to be heard. 

            So, does skipping the bra make you a slut?  Silly me, I think that how you dress has nothing to do with your sexual behavior.  I think they are two totally different things.  I think that they are both NO ONE ELSE’S BUSINESS.  And, really, even if going without a bra did make you a slut, who cares?  If you want to be sexually promiscuous with other consenting adults, that’s none of my business.  If you think that running around with my boobs free makes me a slut, I really don’t care.  That is a matter for me and my sexual partners. 

Oh, you think that my braless state implies that I am sexually available to you?  Um, no.  If you are the type of person who would think less of me because of my underwear choices, then I really don’t think I would ever be interested in engaging in any type of sexual activity with you.  No, not even if you look like George Clooney or Olivia Wilde.  You are definitely not my type, sweetheart. 

Equal Opportunity Gratuitousness, Olivia Wilde

Gratuitous George Clooney Picture

Perhaps you think my husband should tell me to cover myself?  Or that he might be embarrassed by my boob bouncing ways?  Allow me to digress with a little story.  A friend of mine wears hijab, the head scarf worn by some Muslim women.  She has worn it for years and has an assortment of cute, fashionable scarves to match various outfits.  Her husband gently suggested that, at least while they lived in the US for grad school, she might consider skipping the head scarf.  She was nonplused and asked him why.  He said that people might think he was oppressing her and that her choice to cover her head might make him look bad.  She snorted at him and gave him her unconditional answer:  “My head, my business.”  Being a smart man, he never brought up the matter again.  And, yes, my husband is also a smart man and he would never try to tell me how to dress.

Won’t men be distracted, though?  Even uncomfortably aroused, if they have to see my braless breasts?  How will they take me seriously at work, or even pay any attention to anything I have to say, if my breasts are just hanging out there, flaunting themselves?  Well, I do wear a shirt, for crying out loud.  It’s not as if the actual bare flesh is showing.  Also, breasts do not exist for the visual consumption and enjoyment of men.  Last time I checked, they were baby feeding devices.  The sexualization of the breast is just something our culture teaches.  If thinking of breasts as sexy is something you can learn, then you can just bloody well unlearn it. Or at least learn to contain your wildly rampaging sexual thoughts in the presence of my braless mammary glands. 

But they are so distracting, those oversized sweat glands.  Yeah, so is parsley stuck between someone’s teeth.  Or blue hair.  Or really cute skull-shaped rhinestone earrings.  But you know what?  Get over it.  They’re just tits.  Half of the world’s population has them. They’re everywhere!  Can’t you learn to think about something else?  Like, just maybe, what I am saying to you?  If you can’t, it really is your problem and not mine.   If you cannot control your body (and your brain), you have a serious problem.  Do you pounce on every bacon cheeseburger that goes by, even if it belongs to someone else?  Do you get out of your car and punch the driver who cut you off in traffic?  Do you scream at the radio when you disagree with the political commentary?  (Oh, wait, I do that sometimes.  Bad example.)  No, you control yourself.  You rein in your id and suck it up.  Because you are an adult human being. 

If it is my job to hide everything that might cause some man, somewhere, to think about sex, I am going to need to buy a tent.  Should I cover my ankles because some men have a thing for that body part?  Or maybe I should wear a veil to hide my lips, which are a much more erotic body part than breasts?  Or cover my hands?  Really?  Because that argument leads to a slippery slope that ends in wearing a burka.  And, even then, some man somewhere will find something to be aroused by.  There is a long tradition of poetry in the Arab world that glorifies things like a woman’s graceful walk, her delicate footprints, the whiff of her perfume—all things that are exposed by even the most concealing clothing.  Oh, perhaps I should just stay indoors, where no man might see me or even smell me, so I don’t risk arousing a man.  Otherwise, I am just asking to be raped.  Wait, where is the SarcMark on this keyboard? 

Disclaimer:  I don’t really think that all men have a problem with braless, outspoken women.  I hold up the generic “men” because they are cited by those who think I should wear a bra.  What will “men” think of you?  How will “men” handle it?   These imaginary ravening beasts fortunately do not represent most males of my acquaintance.  Thank heavens. 

Next time it is my turn to post, I plan to address droopy boobs and public breast feeding.  No, all my posts will not be about tits, I promise.