- How I got through the most triggering holiday of the year
- Owning my power
- Finding my tribe
- Gratitude, not food
Wooooooooaaaaaaah. I made it through thanksgiving.
But like, how?
I’d been really scared of the upcoming holiday, especially considering I finished relapsing about three weeks ago. It can be scary to have to engage in a food-centric holiday this close to a state of vulnerability. But I freaking DID it. I anticipated, coped ahead, came up with some really awesome strategies and things to do before my meals came up.
I’ve been following a lot of fat-positive and body-positive Instagram accounts and bloggers lately (will give y’all a list at the end of the post!), to sort of normalize, in my own context, the body I’m currently living in. Some people don’t take well to the reclamation of the word fat, especially those who need to use it as a pejorative term to safely distance themselves from ditching diet culture as an act of self love.
Since the beginning of this week, I started using two hashtags in my Instagram posts; #fatbitch and #dontstressthestretch — the second one is an original one that came to mind this week, as I was trying to find a campaign that would encompass all bodies. And considering my body has stretched and grown what seems like a lot since last year, I owe my stretch stripes a lot of love and support for being new to the landscape of my fierce and awesome body.
Tuesday night I had a conversation with a very good friend (who is one of my “recovery moms”!!!)–shout out to Denise! And she reminded me that I already own so much of my power and that I had every right and every opportunity of choice to say no, I’m not going to eat like I know how to today. She had me listening to a lot of Mary Lambert, which was good because I was still on the emotional high from last week’s show. Her words and lyrics resonated with me in ways that validated how powerful and badass I already am.
I also listened to an episode of one of the coolest podcasts that I have recently discovered, Fearless Rebelle Radio with Summer Innanen. I got so much out of the two episodes I’ve heard already, and I think that a lot of what I heard was what prepared me for this week. This idea that Denise showed me–that we already have so much power inside of us, and that others in our lives who give us love and stability are just there to turn the light on–is something that is so insanely empowering and crazy for my recovery right now. It’s everything I’ve needed to face today like a true warrior.
I put together a Thanksgiving Trigger Tribe (say it 10 times fast!) yesterday and the day before, and I prayed enough and meditated enough today that I barely had to fall back on it for most of my afternoon. Even as people in my family made small jokes about body image and weight–I stayed inside my body, with my feet on the ground, and maintained a clear head. And trust me–the problematic joking and commentary was generally minor this year–or maybe my tolerance level was just that good thanks to the universe.
This morning, I was a #fatbitchdoingyoga — and let me delve into the word ‘bitch’ for a second. ‘Bitch’ is another pejorative term that robs women of their power, when they are too loud or too independent or too fearless for someone else’s taste. It is a form of subjugation that says “can you just go be revolutionary over there, in a way that makes me comfortable, where I can choose to ignore your awesomeness if I want to?” It’s used against men to compare them to women and therefore dilute their existence and relegate that existence to an emotional, invalid, meaningless, ‘weaker’ state of being; and I’m not here for that.
Yes, I’m gonna go there; I liken this attitude to someone’s comment that Colin Kaepernick’s protests, which have made national television thanks to other players’ widespread participation, have made national TV and news. People saying “it’s not the place or time” are really just saying “don’t do it in a way that is visible enough to make a difference.”
The point of me being a #fatbitch is to be seen. Being a ‘fat bitch doing things’ is the objective. And I’m not sorry about it, ever; never will be.
B.I.T.C.H. = Babe in Total Control of Herself.
I asked friends on Snapchat to kindly avoid sending me snaps of their food throughout the day, (yay for boundaries!) and I agreed to make this holiday less about the food and more about the attitude of gratitude. I went to an ED meeting, made a HUGE gratitude list, told at least 30 people that I was thankful for them, and spent time with my family like I haven’t in years at a holiday. It’s usually way too overwhelming and anxiety-inducing, but it was small enough and ended early enough this year that I could feel safe. I was given a purpose in helping my mom clean up in a not-that-crowded kitchen, so we got a lot done and I felt productive. And I did this all while, and after, eating adequately.
Reflecting on my gratitude has been something super important to me both in the field of social justice and with respect to this holiday in particular. I actually only learned a few days ago that Thanksgiving was made an American tradition by President Abraham Lincoln in 1863; though we often liken it to a fictitious relationship between the “pilgrims and the Indians”, because they were notorious for celebrating with a feast every time they killed off a tribe or a village of indigenous people.
I can be grateful for living in a country that allows me certain unprecedented freedoms while also being mindful of the fact that the country was stolen and that it goes out of its way to marginalize people with bodies shaped like mine. And further, to marginalize bodies that are darker, more obviously queer/nonbinary, differently abled than mine. America is not the land of the free fat bitch.
Again, I will go there with this message because it’s important to me that I think about it. During a conversation one of my family members densely said about the clothes we buy on Black Friday, “…It’s made by people in China for ten cents a day but that’s just the way it is. Hey, at least they have jobs.”
I couldn’t help but think, what is a job if it’s not ethical, fair and just? What is a job if it doesn’t provide you not just with an income, but dignity?
What is gratitude really, if we can’t recognize who pays the price for our privilege?
What good is gratitude if 22,000 children in the world die every day from the effects of poverty?
What good are my ‘thanks’ if 805 million people in the world do not have enough to eat right now?
Finishing what’s on my plate, as I was indoctrinated to do throughout my childhood, is not going to bring food security to the impoverished, the homeless, the struggling and starving. It’s not going to rectify the injustice of hunger.
Eating seconds and thirds beyond my body’s limitations of comfort is not going to change the fact that there are starving children in Haiti, or India.
What is body positivity really, if it is co-opted by the notion of only being allowed to be positive if you are thin, pass for thin, or aspire to be thin?
What good is my body, the thing that does EVERY action to sustain my life and perpetuate my existence, if I don’t LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE it unconditionally?
Gratitude, in my life, must also be met by action. I am so infinitely thankful for soft blankets and running water and the laptop I post these posts from and the grad school education I’m getting and my Subaru and my related family and my chosen family and my entire life–but if I want to be grateful and really mean it, I have to keep working to confront the fact that so many do not have what I have–basic things that should not be privileges to anyone.
It begins, for me, with having a body that I love, that can commit acts of revolution on a day to day basis, simply by taking up space.
#FatBitchRevolution #DontStressTheStretch
Here’s the list I promised you:
@iamjessamyn @glitterandlazers @tessholliday
@fashionnovacurve @voluptuousleah @littlelimedress @spookyfatbabe
Happy thanksgiving!!!!
Feel free to reach me via email: caitisrecovering@gmail.com
Join the conversation on Instagram and Twitter!
Royally Incomplete 