No Really, No One is Taking This Obesity Problem Seriously

Having written about our apparent ignorance of the “obesity epidemic” on Friday, another little gem popped up on stuff.co.nz earlier today.  Written by Dara-Lynn Weiss, she explains why she decided her daughter needed to go on a diet, and how she policed that diet.

She’d decided that 42kgs (about 96.2 pounds) was to heavy for her eight-year-old daughter, and, apparently, so did her daughter’s doctor.  Queue calorie counting over every single item of food that was to enter the child’s mouth.  Including while at a birthday party.  This method of dieting always means certain foods become forbidden, unless you don’t want to eat anything else for the rest of the day/week.  And, as often happens, once something becomes forbidden, it becomes relatively high on the ‘must have’ list.  Inevitably, this leads to arguments between mother and daughter, in public, which Dara-Lynn even admits were embarrassing.

Over the course of this diet, the daughter weighs in at 35kgs (about 77 pounds).  Dara-Lynn sees this as mission accomplished, that weight was their goal after all.  Nothing is mentioned with regards to how quickly this weight was lost.

Let’s take a look at how the daughter feels at the end of this:

When our appointment ended, Bea got dressed and we stepped outside of the office. I looked at her, beaming expectantly as we walked down the street. But she said nothing.

“How do you feel about all the weight you lost?” I asked her when we got home.

“Good,” she said, blandly.

“Do you like the way you look now?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, definitively.

“Do you feel different?”

“No. That’s still me,” she said. “I’m not a different person just because I lost seven kilograms.”

She went on. “I’m not comfortable with saying, ‘Oh, yeah, I’ve changed everything and everything’s going to be perfect for the rest of humanity,’ ” she said. “I’ve changed half of the way, but not fixed my entire life. Because that isn’t true. Who can fix their entire life when they’re eight?”

“Well, no, of course you haven’t changed your whole life. But you’re not overweight anymore. You did fix that. That part of you is in the past.”

Her body tensed in my arms. She began to tear up. “Just because it’s in the past doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” she said.

After sharing this revelation from her daughter, Dara-Lynn goes on to say:

I had believed that I could set Bea on a different track, that I could “cure” her of being overweight by changing her eating habits before her self-image dimmed so much that she came to think of herself as a fat person. But I was too late. Or maybe it was never possible. She had indeed changed her body and her lifestyle, but the metamorphosis was bittersweet, because it had cost her some of the innocence of her childhood.

(Emphasis mine.)  Because thinking of yourself as a fat person is obviously the most terrible thing that can ever happen to you.  This kind of thinking on her part is confirmed by an earlier statement:

…  Was admitting to being overweight any more humiliating (or obvious) than just being overweight? Wasn’t it less embarrassing to acknowledge it and let people know you were aware of the problem and doing something about it?

As a fat person myself, I just don’t understand how I can continue to live with myself each day.

Dara-Lynn also divulges that she also had/has issues with her own weight and self-image:

My MO has always been two-pronged: cover up my flaws as best I can, then lay them out on the table for discussion to expose my insecurity pre-emptively. Throughout all the years that I’ve battled with my weight, even as I sought to hide my body under layers of obfuscating clothing, I fessed up about my feelings to others. I was the girl you could overhear groaning, “Ugh, I am so fat,” as I patted my distended belly. If I had an obvious pimple on my face, I would attack it with concealer, then find a way to work it into conversation, just so everyone knew that I knew that they noticed it, and they shouldn’t feel awkward about it.

Let’s have a look at some of the numbers here:

  • The mean average height of an eight year old girl is 125cm (about 4’2). Source.
  • Starting weight of 96.2 pounds.  This equals a BMI of 21.7.  Normal weight is 18.5 to 24.9. Source.
  • End weight of 77 pounds.  This is a BMI of 26.  The overweight range is from 25 to 29.9. Source as above.
  • As much as I hate using BMI to measure anything, the range for being obese doesn’t start until you are at least 30.  This doesn’t stop Dara-Lynn from throwing the word obese around willy-nilly when describe her daughter’s weight.

Great work, Dara-Lynn!  You have successfully pushed your own weight and body image issues onto your impressionable eight year old daughter and taken away some of her innocence.

H/T @ColeyTangerina

———————————————————–

If you’re reading this anywhere but That Girl, Fae or a feed reader without attribution, it has been STOLEN! Who knew that my stuff was that good? ~ Fae

Creative Commons License
That Girl, Fae by R Simpson-Large aka Fae Teardrop is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 New Zealand License.

I’m His Girl

For a while now I’ve been trying to pin down exactly what the dynamic of my relationship with J is. Dom/sub didn’t fit. Master/slave certainly didn’t! Top/bottom? While that’s closer, it still wasn’t quite right. Then yesterday, thanks to a friend’s revelation, I had a revelation of my own:

Our relationship totally fits in with the Daddy/girl dynamic!

I wanted this:

[to be] free to be immature and childish, unrestrained and uninhibited, knowing the Daddy is there to provide direction, structure and discipline

(linky link) and I found it in J 🙂

People often get confused about our dynamic, thinking I’m the dominant one, but that’s because they don’t realise that while I’m with J, I’m a demanding, bratty, spoiled child 😛

And, of course, that dynamic doesn’t follow through to my interactions and relationships with other people.

There is absolutely NOTHING incestuous about this dynamic. I should really have to state that, but people are… well… people.

I think maybe some of the reasons some of my past relationships have failed is because I ended up with another ‘little,’ or was unfortunate enough to find someone who saw my innocence and naivety and took advantage of it, or it might have just been because that they were actually emotionally abusive and controlling arseholes *shrug*

Side note: who’d thought that you’d be able to keep up the perception of innocence and naivety without actually still needing to be innocent and naive!!

PS.

IT’S ONLY 11 MORE DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING & I BECOME MRS J!!

PPS.
This comic sums it up perfectly!!

My Rapist was my Boyfriend

There have been a number of conversations lately regarding consent. After reading this article by Tracy Clark-Flory about safewords being ignored, I decided it was time I talked about my own experience.

TRIGGER WARNING: Rape

When I was 23, I was raped.

It took me a long time to realise what happened was in fact rape. I had thought just acknowledging it would be enough to come to terms with what happened, and it did, for a short time. I hope by talking about it now, it will give me some closure, and perhaps stop the same thing from happening to at least one other person.

I was young, inexperienced, naïve and in my first BDSM relationship. French was my Master, and I was his submissive. I was completely infatuated with him, and trusted him completely. I couldn’t talk to anyone else about the relationship, because I was French’s secret mistress, and he didn’t want it getting back to his partner. I got it in my head that because they were having problems, he would leave her for me, and to help that happen, I would do anything to please him.

One night French sent me a text to say he was coming round. I was to meet him at the door completely naked, or we would have anal sex (which we had not had together up until that point, because I was not ready, and had told him so, repeatedly). That was the whole extent of the negotiation. No discussion of safewords, hard limits, or anything else. I didn’t think I would ever never a safeword. Why would I? I (thought I) was in love with French, and trusted him completely. He would never force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. Would he?

I was living in a flat by myself at this point. So I had no safety back up, someone to help me make sure nothing went wrong. Again, I didn’t think I would need to.

I sat on the couch, naked under my bathrobe, eagerly awaiting French’s arrival. He knocked, I disrobed, and opened the door. I thought (mistakenly) that this would show him that I truly had no desire to engage in any anal sex with him that night.

French led me to my bedroom. Some foreplay ensued. He grabbed a condom, put it on. Then it happened. He flipped me over onto my front and pinned me down. I tried to get away, while saying “No! I don’t want to!” He ignored my pleas, even though consensual non-consent was not part of our dynamic (I didn’t even know such a thing existed). There was no preparation, no lube. I stopped struggling, and lay there silently, trying to move into a position where maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much, just wanting it to be over.

When he was finished, I felt numb, unsure what had just happened. Rape never even crossed my mind, after all, he was my boyfriend. Boyfriends don’t rape their girlfriends.

I ignored whatever I was feeling. Dirty. Used. After putting my bathrobe back on, I joined French on the couch, and we watched Project Runway together. And he went home.

A couple of weeks later, French and I parted ways. I had met J, and, after falling for him completely (for real this time), wanted to be exclusive.

About two years later, French got in contact with me again. By this point I had realised the true extent of what had happened, and I told him as such. He sheepishly said he didn’t realise, and had just gotten caught up in the moment. I believe that was his “apology.” I have not talked to him since, and have no desire too.

I know now that I, in no way, deserved what happened to me. I had followed the rules, and he had taken advantage of my innocence.

I don’t regret what happened though, it has helped make me who I am today, and I’m pretty ok with that person.