by Guest Blogger Jen P.

Anorexia nervosa is a disease, not an excuse for cruelty to an entire group of people. For five years, I suffered from an eating disorder, bouncing in and out of hospitals and residential treatment centers, counting every calorie that entered my mouth, furiously sweating out the pounds that I imagined were glomming onto my frame, agonizing over my size, the numbers on my clothing, and the number on the scale that taunted me every morning. Do you see the key word here? My. My mouth, my frame, my size. Anorexia nervosa is marked by a fierce, irrational obsession with one’s own appearance, a fear of gaining weight, and a distorted self-image. Nowhere in the clinical diagnosis of anorexia does it state that the disease makes an individual hate fat people. Nowhere in the definition does it state that anorexia makes it “aesthetically displeasing to watch a very, very fat person simply walk across a room,” as Maura Kelly states in her Marie Claire article. This cruel, mean-spirited, and judgmental point of view can not be blamed on a disease, a disease that has afflicted some of the kindest, gentlest, most supportive women (and men) that I have ever encountered. Maura Kelly’s words come from within herself, from her individual issues, not from this often misunderstood disease.


In fact, most individuals suffering from eating disorders are so stuck in their own minds , so judgmental of themselves alone, that they don’t have the time or the mental energy to judge others. When I was in the depths of my eating disorder, I thought that the normal rules that govern reality didn’t apply to me. In my mind, a teaspoon of peanut butter could instantaneously make me gain ten pounds—yet in the mouths of other people, it was just fine. In my mind, I had to work out X hours every day—yet others didn’t. I existed in my own universe, my own fantasy land, with regulations and punishments that applied to only my body, my shape. I yearned for the normality of others’ lives, ached to be free of the torturous vice that gripped my mind. In the depths of my illness, I was jealous of everyone who wasn’t me—jealous of women with curves, jealous of women with flesh, jealous of women who were just plain happy with themselves, who lived their lives in the bodies they were born with. The paradox was that while I didn’t want fat on myself, I loved to see others who embraced it upon them. It gave me hope.

And that’s Mike and Molly. While I haven’t seen this show for myself, I love that television is starting (very slowly) to show a range of bodies on television. Because for both women suffering from eating disorders and for women of every shape and size, it is essential to see these images of happiness in the media. Of plus-size women living their lives, falling in love, feeling empowered and strong. That’s what our young girls need in order to escape the tyranny of eating disorders. That’s what all women need in order to love themselves.

Because it’s hard to be a woman today. No matter what size you are, no matter how much you weigh.

Throughout my recovery process, as I struggled with the weight that I so desperately need to gain, as I came to terms with the self-esteem issues that led me to restrict and over-exercise, as I watched my body finally become what it truly wanted to be, rather than the form that I forced it into, it was hard. I won’t say that it was harder than the struggles that many women go through everyday, facing the kind of prejudice and hatred that was evidenced in the Marie Claire article. But it was hard, nonetheless, as I watched myself change, as I challenged the internal standards that I had always held myself to, that society holds all women to today.

And today I am bigger, yes, but I am also myself. I am a recovered anorexic. The disease is part of my past, will always be a part of me. But I will never use it as an excuse for hatred. Instead, I use it as an excuse for love—toward myself, however I end up looking, and for others. Because happiness and self-acceptance is worth more than anything.

There is a new security threat to our country: obesity.

(If nothing else, the sheer creativity of the fat-o-phobes is impressive. I have to hand it to them on many levels. They never stop thinking.)

Really. I shit you not. In a recent news article covering a governor's conference, former Republican governor of Arkansas Mike Huckabee said that obesity was America's most pressing problem, to the point that it was an issue of national security.

"Today we hear a lot about the war on terror, how we need to fight it," said Huckabee, who lost 110 pounds several years ago when he was governor of Arkansas. "Let me ask this question: Who's going to fight it in the future if we're a generation so sick that we don't have the capacity to show up for work?"

Or, dear Mr. Huckabee, what if we have a nation that's so freaking obessessed with food that they can't focus even if they DO show up for work? Who knows how much you could have improved your great state of Arkansas if you weren't dieting so damn much. And rumor has it you had gastric bypass surgery, so don't give me all of this dieting bull. If you did, just 'fess up. You'd look much less like a wanker if you admitted it in the first place.

Okay, I'm going to stop this random rant and get back to the point.

Basically what was said at this "conference" was a bunch of standard anti-obesity hype. Americans eat too much junk and velcro their fat asses to the couch every night with a bag of potato chips.* One of Mr. H's glorious solutions? Test all kids' body fat percentages.

I object to this on several levels.

First, the only really accurate way to measure body fat is by either DEXA scan or by submersion in a special tank thing. I don't think they're going to be dunking a bunch of 6-year-olds anytime soon. It's expensive as hell. So if you do measure body fat, you're going to be getting crap numbers anyway. It's pointless and just serves to shame fat kids even more. They don't need it. Even kids (like me) who weren't fat but told they were by classmates don't need this shit. I always thought I was fat. I wasn't small (85% height and weight for age), but I was healthy as a horse.

Second, there is no evidence that this works. None. Study after study has been done and there has never been one shred of efficacy. Of course, some people are quite determined at this, and their theory is that if a single-pronged intervention doesn't work, we just need to try harder. Because one of them has to work, somehow.

Unless you're working with a flawed theory. It's like trying to make me tall. You can try stretching me like Gumby, but the only way I'm going to grow is by putting on a pair of stiletto heels. Which I will then take off and use the heel to give you a lobotomy.

Of course, this wasn't the end of things. There had to be one more classic anti-obesity comment, didn't there?

"You've got a serious situation with a generation of kids coming up so unhealthy they won't be able to pass the military physical," Huckabee said in an interview after the panel discussion. "We keep talking about the war on terror- who's going to fight it if we don't have enough people who are healthy enough to show up and pick up a backpack?"

I suppose one solution would be don't start completely pointless, futile and unnecessary wars. And, failing all else, we could just sit on the enemy.

*If you do decide to do this, I would highly recommend kettle chips. They're extremely tasty, especially the sea salt and cracked pepper kind. Salty stuff usually isn't my thing, but these...damn.