Sizeist Microaggressions You Shouldn’t Have to Put Up With

“Microaggression,” according to Wikipedia, is a term was coined by Chester M. Pierce in 1970. Columbia professor Derald Wing Sue, who literally wrote the book on them, defines microaggressions as “brief and commonplace daily verbal, behavioral, or environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative racial slights and insults toward people of color.” Some examples of racial microaggressions include statements like “But you don’t act like a black person,” or any of these others mentioned in this Buzzfeed list, or this list from American Psychologist, and this Tumblr.

Microaggressions are definitely real things that impact the lives of marginalized people of all categories. Most discussion of microaggressions focus on race, but they play a big role in size politics too. But because size is a dynamic element for most people (i.e. it might change), sizeist microaggressions tend to impact people of all sizes – those who are fat, and those who are afraid that they are fat or afraid of becoming fat. I’m personally getting really damned sick of them.

“You look great! Have you lost weight?” 

“You look so skinny in that picture!”

“God, I am a disgusting pig at this weight.”  “…You weigh less than me….”   “I mean, just because I’m not usually this weight. It’s different.” 

“But you eat healthy. I’m talking about the fat people who eat McDonalds.”

“Wow, you look great! You lost like a million pounds!”

“Just so you know, I used real butter in that recipe.”

“I used to be overweight, but I’m happy with my body now. If I was ever a size 10 again, I’d shoot myself.”

“But I don’t think of you as a fat.”

The important thing to remember is that  these micgroaggressions are committed unintentionally. For many people, these microaggressions come from the practice of fat talk – a self-deprecating way of communicating that people use to try to assuage their guilt over their eating/exercise habits, or demonstrate their social humility. It’s really unfortunate because people who fat talk think they’re only talking about themselves, and therefore only affecting themselves with their statements. They fail to realize that every time they criticize their own body or eating/exercise habits in front of other people, their words have the same impact of a microaggression.

It’s also possible that the person doing it just really has no idea because they just don’t think about weight stuff that often. For example, laughing at a fat joke on a TV show. While sitting right next to a fat person, totally oblivious to the impact of their complicit laughter on their friend next to them.

Microaggressions can result from the environment we live in too, like when clothing brands only carry up to a size 12. They can be actions rather than words, like when someone gives out free t-shirts as prizes, but only in sizes XS-L. They can happen in academia/research, like when you’re reading a book on organizational change theory and all of the examples are compared to weight loss maxims (“Just tell your team to put down the cookie, or better yet, remove all the cookies from the office!” – the cookie here being a metaphor for whatever “bad behavior” you’re trying to change).

Do you have more examples of sizeist microagressions? Have you been committing them unintentionally? And if so, are you willing to make an effort to stop?

One Year of Not Dieting

In December, 2012, I made a New Year’s resolution to stop dieting. Forever. I’m proud to say that I have kept my resolution and for the first time in my adult life, I have gone a whole year without tracking a single Weight Watchers point. Why? Because dieting does not work for me.

Each time I committed to dieting I would lose weight and then, whenever I needed to focus my energy on other goals (like grad school) or went through a stressful time, I would gain it all back plus more for good measure. In addition to my personal experience, I have been reading a lot about the science of weight-loss and finding that it’s really not so simple as “calories in, calories out.” I could go into more depth about the research and what I believe, but that’s for another post. For now, I’ll share that it is my belief that thanks to dieting, I weigh much more than I would have had I just left my body alone.

Here are some reflections after a full year of not dieting:

Image1. Fat talk is everywhere. People who are concerned and self-conscious about their eating habits (read: most people) insist on ruining every meal you have together by exclaiming how unhealthy the food is or reassuring you that they never eat like this at home, etc. etc. At first it was hard to stop fat talking, but now – a year after breaking the habit – I find it profoundly annoying and intrusive because I’m still expected to join in. What I choose to eat at any given time is none of your business. I don’t need to justify or explain my choices to anyone, and I certainly don’t need to apologize for my choices.

My decision to stop dieting was, in some ways, a promise to stop judging myself every time I ate some food. But thanks to all the fat talk everywhere, I became hyper aware of how much everyone else is judging themselves or others based on the food they eat. If you are trying to retrain your brain not to associate these negative judgments with food, it’s really annoying to hear everyone else do it constantly. It starts to feel like everyone’s out to sabotage you – or at least your next meal.

2. Real food tastes amazing. Have you tried non-diet yogurt lately? Or coffee with milk and actual sugar? Holy crap. Turns out, food doesn’t have to taste like a chemical sundae. The other day I was eating a big, fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie that was given to me at a work training. And believe it or not, I couldn’t even finish it. Can you remember a time when you were not able to finish a diet cookie? Those things are about as filling as a celery stick and they taste like cardboard. And even though they taste like cardboard, you end up eating the whole box anyway because you’re so hungry and it’s either the cookies or a salad, but you’re so goddamned sick of salads and your bowels are a wreck because Weight Watchers prizes foods high in fiber and apparently the secret to weight loss is pooping all the damned time. So basically, you’re sitting there, choking down cardboard cookies, mentally exhausted from decision fatigue over whether or not to eat the cookies, feeling like a total failure because you ate the cookies, and wondering if anything makes any goddamn sense in this world anymore.

Dieting! Huzzah!

3. I am finally learning how to cook. I was never that interested in learning to cook, and dieting made cooking really simple to avoid. After all, it is much easier to buy pre-made, processed foods with the nutrition facts and portion sizes clearly labeled than it is to cook a dish and figure out how many Weight Watchers points it is if you used 3 sprays of non-fat cooking spray and substitute non-fat greek yogurt for everything else that might possibly contain fat and my god how does this bland, sorry excuse for food add up to 16 points per serving when there are no goddamned calories in it?

You know what I did instead of cooking? I ate Lean Pockets. Lean Pockets. If anyone wants to know the deep, dark truth about how low dieting can bring you, just tell them “I know someone who actually ate Lean Pockets.” Now that I’m not dieting and focusing on other healthy goals (like not eating so many chemicals) I am learning to cook. So far this year, I have learned to cook African sweet potato peanut stew, chicken marbella, stuffed tomatoes, mini Greek-style meatloaves with arugula salad, brussel sprout breakfast hash, sweet potato spinach mac and cheese, black bean enchiladas, escarole and orzo soup with turkey meatballs, and more! And even though most of these dishes didn’t turn out perfect and I had to do a lot more cleaning up, every single one was better than a fucking Lean Pocket.

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Yep. I made this.

I’m beginning to be able to eat more intuitively. I used to be just like Louis CK.

the-meal-is-over-when-i-hate-myself

Party food was the worst; if there was a bowl of chips or tray of mini quiches in the room, those savory treats would just not leave me alone. I’d be thinking about how many I could have, and once I’d had those, how many more I could have, and when I could have them again. Now, I am much less obsessive about food at parties. I have some if I want some – and more importantly, I know that I can have them if I want them. Now, I can actually stop when I don’t want them anymore. I actually don’t want them sometimes! It doesn’t sounds like a big change, but it feels super different. It’s like I’ve been granted a restraining order and I am no longer being harassed by bowls of chips.

Of course, this is a slow and gradual process. I still overeat sometimes, by accident and also not by accident. Still, I have started to be more in tune with how food makes my body feel. I’ve realized and accepted the fact that certain foods make me feel bad and other foods make me feel good. That may sound obvious, but while dieting my stomach was always off (so much fiber, why???) and so I focused on ignoring my body’s signals, cravings, and reactions rather than listening to them. Until recently, I didn’t know that mozzarella cheese turned my stomach or that big servings of meat made me feel gross. I knew what full felt like, but I didn’t really know what “satisfied” felt like. I never felt satisfied when I was dieting because I was never satisfied. How can you feel satisfied when you’re eating weird, calorie-free versions of food instead of actual food? Now that I can recognize satisfied, and enjoy that feeling, it’s easier to stop.

5. I haven’t lost weight. Yet. I won’t lie. I was really hoping that after I stopped dieting, my body would revert back to whatever it “naturally” would have weighed. That didn’t happen. Let’s be real. After years of dieting, the initial freedom to eat all the things was so novel and exciting that I definitely ate all the things. Unsurprisingly, I gained a little bit. (I stopped weighing myself when I stopped dieting so I am blissfully ignorant of the numbers.) This part has been hard and disappointing. But after more reading and reflection and discussion with health professionals, I’ve been reassured that this takes time. Longer than one year. After all, I’m just beginning to eat intuitively. I’ve also started working on my relationship with exercise – something just as complicated as my relationship with food. It’s a process, and I’m still at the beginning of that process.

I do have hope that as I develop new, healthier relationships with food and exercise, my body will respond accordingly. In the meantime, I’m working on my body image. I’m learning to let go of the idea that being thin will make me happier or my life better. I am accepting the fact that I will never be a size 4, and exploring the possibilities of being happy, fit, and confident with my body as it is.

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After a year of not dieting, I am confident that I’ve made the right choice. I feel healthier in body, mind, and spirit. I’m excited to discover where another year of not dieting will take me. And most of all, I’m grateful to finally be in touch with my body.

As it happens, my body is exhausted and telling me to just post this already and go to sleep. And I’m going to listen to it.

*** Edit ***
I made these. Enjoy.

Weight Watchers 1

Weight Watchers 2