exposure therapy.

In case you haven't heard the news, I have a new girl crush and her name is Lindy West. I feel pretty certain that we will be best friends. Actually, we might already be in a (one-sided) best friendship. But I assure you, once she meets me, it's over. She will give me half of a platinum BEST FRIEND heart pendant, and she will always keep the other near to her literal heart for as long as we both shall live. After this gift, we will ride off on horses into the sunset as best friends forever. (Note: the horses will have to be Clydesdales, because, well, obvious reasons.)

I first heard of Lindy about a year ago on an episode of This American life entitled, “Tell Me I'm Fat.”(Episode 589 if you want to look it up.) In this episode, host Ira Glass interviews Mindy about her “coming out” as fat. It's this idea that a large person would just own their identity as a fat person. And it makes sense why this (the idea of fat acceptance) is not mainstream. Fat people are the targets of easy jokes. Fat people are the scorn of their seatmates on an airplane. Fat people are judged for wearing clothes “that just don't suit their body type.”

Our society is ridiculously biased against fat people and it makes all sorts of judgements about what we must (or must not) be like:

• Like how we're uneducated about nutrition. When pretty much all of us know about how many calories/carbs/grams of fat, etc are in at least 20 different foods off hand. We are not so stupid as to not understand calories in must be less than calories out to lose weight. We get it. I assure you.

• Or ideas like we're lazy. Meanwhile, last year I trained for (and completed) a 39 mile walk requiring many hundreds of hours of training. Guess what? I was still fat when I did it.

• Or we're unhealthy. I know plenty of fat people who have no health problems, and even if they do have health problems, it's not as simple as just “dropping the weight.”

In her book, Shrill, my best friend Lindy West devotes an entire chapter to the discussion of how, for all of her childhood, the media images of fat women growing up were presented as either a monster (think Ursula the sea witch), or the matronly, sex-less mother (think Roseanne, or Mrs. Potts in Beauty and the Beast.) Incidentally, fat men are not portrayed similarly.  

The thing is, as humans we don't fully understand what we don't experience. Just like cis people can't fully understand the struggles of trans people, and able people can't fully understand the struggle of disabled people, and white people can't fully understand the struggle of black people, naturally thin people cannot understand the rituals, shame, and embarrassment that we fat people experience. I mean sure, nearly everyone feels vulnerable in a swim suit. Being on display nearly nude is awkward at first. But guys, being fat in a swimsuit is a whole other thing. A WHOLE other thing. Another example-- do you know how much anxiety a trip to the doctor causes fat people? Um. A lot. Not because we don't want to get better when we're sick, but because we know there will be a weigh in.

Being fat is not just a physical thing. Being fat is also deeply emotional. Fat people are given second class citizen status in this country. Which is really, really stupid, because (according to the CDC), about 70% of Americans are overweight, and about 34% of us are obese. But even so the fat shaming continues. And we are isolated and so we do everything we can to suck it in to make us smaller. We drape ourselves with tent-like flowy clothes so people won't have to lay eyes on our shameful bodies. We stuff it all into SPANX and other “foundational garments” that slim, tighten, trim, and contain so that we will have “smoother lines.” Because it is, as it seems, an imperative that we are thin. And if we aren't, we need to invest time and money into these products and rituals to make us appear thinner so as to not offend the eyes of our viewers.

And there are reasons why we're fat.  Sure, on the surface the reason is we eat too much. But that's not really the real reason. The reasons behind the reasons are the real reasons. (Did I say reasons enough for you in that sentence?) First, obviously, there are genetic and metabolic factors at play. Certain people are more prone to being overweight, just like certain people are prone to say, liking cilantro. There is our upbringing and family history-- to a certain extent, we act the way our family did. There are addiction factors at play-- it's a legit addiction for many of us, just like alcohol, drugs, sex, or gambling is for others. There are also psychological/mental health factors at play-- we don't do something if it's not working for us at some level. So even though we may hate being fat, the comfort or pleasure food brings us outweighs the desire to be thin in that moment.

 In other words, it's COMPLICATED.

But my best friend Lindy talks about this liberation she now feels as a fat woman. She was tired of being seen as less than. And so she embraced herself and started to “take on” the fat-shaming voices in our world. But even more than that, she grew to accept her own body. And although she didn't use this terminology, her strategy for overcoming the disgust and shame she felt about her body was essentially exposure therapy.

Exposure therapy is a technique in behavior therapy used to treat anxiety disorders. It involves the exposure of the patient to the feared object or context without any danger, in order to overcome their anxiety and/or distress. (Wikipedia)

So my best friend Lindy started to expose herself to fat bodies in their natural state. She started seeking out nude images of fat women. She cites Leonard Nimoy's “Full Body Project” as being a gift to her during this time. That lead me to search out this work, and guys, I had the same initial opinion as my best friend Lindy did-- I was sort of embarrassed and, honestly, maybe a little grossed out. I was like, “Oh girl, that is not a good angle.” Or, “That one image is okay, but that other lady really is too fat to be pretty.” Or, “Don't show that. That part of us is a secret that we cover up. Don't let that secret out because then people will know this about me too.” But over time, exposure to these bodies lost the shock value. They lost the ick-factor. And over time, she could start seeing the beauty and even sexuality in these bodies that have always been kept a secret (and asexual) because of their shame.

So, yeah. I am not there yet. But I am signed up for that journey. That doesn't mean that I am going to stop trying to better myself and my health by working to fuel my body in a way that makes me feel good. But it does mean that I actively work to stop hating myself. And it does mean that I am undergoing my own exposure therapy. Lately, I have been walking around the house (not in public... yet) in just leggings and a sports bra. For a thin person, this would be totally acceptable-- it's what they wear to the gym or out for a run. My kids were weirded out by it at first. And the other night, Sam came over to me and started jiggling my belly rolls. At first I felt really defensive and sensitive and then he said, “I love this belly. It's wiggly. And he leaned over and gave me a zerbert on my belly and a kiss.” This lead Josiah over to do the same who also agreed that my belly felt good under his hands.

This is the body I have. And having babies, and gaining lots of weight, and losing weight and, well, hard living, has created stretch marks, and saggy skin, and dimples in places that aren't traditionally adorable. And my inclination is to not like that. But this is also the body that birthed and nourished children, that can walk 39 miles, that fixes my family meals, that travels to see the world, that welcomes people into my home, and that even (gasp!) has sex. My body is gaining strength every day. My body has been through life with me. There is no Gwenn Mangine without the body I live in.

And so while I am not ready to go all in with pics of me in the buff (PS- I won't ever post naked pics of myself), I am getting braver.  I tried on a bikini in the store the other day.  Not to wear in public, just to see myself in it.  And I am ready to share this one (tiny) untouched picture of some stretch marks on my stomach I am always careful to keep hidden.  They bear witness to the birth of Nia.  How beautiful is that?!  

Listen people.  This is my body.  And my body is me.  Take it or leave it.  Either way is LITERALLY fine with me.