those who were seen dancing

If this year's internet New Year propaganda bears fruit, it may be the greatest year of fatness, ever.

No one I know has been talking up their diet plans on Facebook. ReVolutions not Resolutions is all happy and inspiring. PDA Nation is video-mad about it.

Some people will be FATTING IT UP ALL OVER.

Aaaaand fattivists have hopped on the blogger teleconference bandwagon with Body Love Revolution. I am seriously sick of invitations to teleconferences, but this one I will make a special exception for.

Finally! If you're in the UK (or just like to talk in a posh accent), Endangered Species Women is kicking off their Ditching Dieting campaign this month, too.

I'm serious, y'all. 2012. The year fattivism wins.

Hey there, Brazil. What's up?

Really? Arty semi-erotic video campaigns about beauty and size acceptance? You don't say! [Readers, it may not pass your personal test of what counts for pornography, but it's definitely NOT work safe.]

Brazil, you know the reason we haven't spoken is that I've come to associate you with some of the most ridiculously over the top anti-fat advertising shenanigans. Perhaps I was too hasty.

I went to the gym on Monday night last week, right after work.

Under normal circumstances, I don't like a crowded gym. Feels rushed and out of control. Monday is always a popular night, but it's also one of few days I'm available in any given week. So, you know. I soldier on.

This past week was traumatizing. First week I'd been on Monday since early January. Resolutionists! Everywhere! I'm not offended by their presence or their noobness, but gah. What the women are there for (I have no idea about the men, as most conversation takes place in the locker room). Lots of self-hate. Lots of self-weighing. Bitter laughs when the fat chick in the room tries to offer another perspective on their "oh I'm disgusting" commentary.

I will not be going back to the gym on Monday night for awhile. Even if the current crowd stays away from weights (gah, you might like GAIN A POUND OF MUSCLE) and opts exclusively for treadmills. Hearing people talk about themselves like that makes me want to cry.

On the up side, I've discovered that older folk, tattooed freaky people and weight training enthusiasts tend to hang at the gym Friday-Sunday. Which makes me a weekend gym convert, apparently. Heh. That's probably how all of those folk ended up there on the weekend.

You should read this.

Step 7: Buy a pet. Having a pet will force you to take walks, which are a form of exercise. This is true unless you make the mistake that I made, which was buying an iguana. Iguanas walk very slowly and smell strongly of turds. I really cannot dissuade you strongly enough from buying an iguana.

Good things to consider a couple of days before many people (including you & me, perhaps?) go all weird with their annual self-recrimination.

It turns out that even the great community Fatshionista has a secret number in its head. You know what I mean? Many people have 200 lbs in their heads as the number at which someone is about to DROP DEAD FROM TEH FATS OH NOES. Members of that community seem to stop at 500 lbs - which is, admittedly, rather large.

Over time I've amended my belief that what immobilizes fat and supersize folk who complain about quality of life is not their fat per se but the fact that they haven't continued to move their fat bodies around. Now I think what immobilizes them is a culture - including themselves - that makes it impossible to visualize a happy, contented, supersize person who is reasonably healthy (or at least, no worse off than an average person). So, you know what, if you are so sure for you personally that you can't be healthy without that weight? Try to lose the weight. I hope along the way you pick up habits that make you feel better.

Just. Please please please don't presume you can pick a number and declare that people who weigh more than that are at death's door. We're all limited by our experience and our paradigm. I remember 160 lbs or so making my quality of life suck, but 200+ (yes, the magic number! OMG!) is apparently just fine. My perspective's shifted quite a bit in those 10 years.

The magic number is always just a bit further than the fattest weight we can imagine for ourselves, but that magic, unliveable number is likely a size at which someone else lives just fine. So stop imagining. There, problem solved.

But I'm going to try to find some anyhow.

In Alabama, fat state employees will have to pay more for their health insurance if they don't try to lose weight. This is not if they are actually more actively using said health insurance. It apparently applies whether you have any health issues or not, as long as you're fat.

Wait, there are words: FUCKED UP. I do not, in my communistic soul, believe that it's okay to charge people more for health insurance if they're sick or use the privilege more than other people. Health insurance is supposed to be there if you need it. I almost never need it, but I would like to know that I can get sick and have already paid for my treatment cost with insurance premiums.

But even leaving aside that belief. WTF?! Let's say you think insurance cost should be related to how much you use or will use it. Why add being fat to a list of things that are, in fact, actual health issues (high cholesterol, for instance)? I almost exclusively use medical treatment for preventative care, and have no major health problems aside from chronic allergies. If I worked for the state of Alabama and did not adopt a weight loss plan, I would suddenly be paying more for insurance than a thin sick person. This is just irrational. It makes simply being fat an "illness" while simultaneously assuming it's reversible long-term.

I had no idea. Going to the gym? Is RIOTOUSLY FUN.

I've been going once or twice a week for... just under a month, I guess. The classes are greatly entertaining - I've been going to yoga, a yoga-pilates-fusion thing, and one with silly pop music and barbells, and they change routines pretty much every time I go, so it's a tiny little surprise for my whole body. Sometimes my fun friends are there, too! The trainer recommended to me by that dude I gave such a hard time? Is not only not a narrow-minded dumbass but is amusing and fairly insightful for a 12 year old (and has pretty eyes). He's no my-old-coach, but he'll do.

I declare the gym a success. Yay, gym!

In other news: I forgot how in all Jane Austen's books "you're looking fatter" is a total compliment about how you're not miserable and depressed anymore. Yay, 19th century!

Guess what I did last night?

No, really. Guess!

You didn't guess "joined a gym", did you? Because if you know me at all, you know of my passionate hate for the gym mindset. The pain = gain. The appearance = health. All the wildly simplified equations and just the general unpleasantness of the places. Ick.

Anyhow. I joined a gym. My trainer has disappeared off the face of the earth, and I need program design help to figure out some of the dance-prep strengthening I want to do. So when arovd suggested that we practice together in her gym's (fantastic slippy-floored, mirrored, nicely lit) space... eh, okay.

The environment is... not as bad as I expected. There was one poster that bothered me enough I. Um. Sorta hid it. It was a small act of subversion. We went to a yogaish workout class that I enjoyed, and the space really is fantastic. The people there were reasonably diverse. The guy who showed me around was remarkably tolerant of my continuous ripping on his profession. We'll see if the trainer recommendation he made pans out.

There are a LOT of treadmills. That? Is creepy.

I am, sometimes, more like a character in a chick-lit novel that I'd care to admit. Because, as cutegaychick said yesterday, my crises?* Are really amusing.

I told you all about the video camera, right? That my dad gave me one for xmas? Well, in addition to recording video of my family and friends for some future date of schmoopiness, I caught some footage of me walking from behind (footage courtesy of mom). And I really didn't like the view of my ass from behind. NOT BECAUSE I AM A GIANT FATTY. I mean, yes, I am a giant fatty [I am SO going to go rename the "fat" tag "giant fatty" when this post is done.]. And, okay, maybe right after coming home from being mommed, I might have been thinking just possibly that being a giant fatty was a Very Bad Thing. HOWEVER, the problem was not the size of my ass but the aesthetic displeasure I experienced watching it move.

So I wondered if my problem could be the non-turned-out walk I trained for a couple of years ago. I used to walk, and stand, and probably sleep, with a distinct turnout (at the hips, like everyone learns in ballet class). It's not good for speed, and it's theoretically not good for my hips (although I think the new walk may have unintentionally contributed to calf and foot issues). But it is, I think, more pleasing to look at. I know because I? Did SEVERAL video takes this morning of different walks, arm and head positions. From multiple angles! I'd show you the videos, but on this point, dearest, loveliest LJ, you do not get a vote.

I wasn't just looking for something I found more attractive (though that was without a doubt the main catalyst), but also checking out this thing with my head. Around the same time as the walk retraining thing, I discovered that I'd been sticking my chin & head out and up for ages, and have since been correcting by constantly tilting my head down. Over time, though, I'd learned to keep my head in a perfectly fine neutral position, and when I installed more mirrors in my bedroom [for DANCING, kids. Don't get all excited.], I could see that I actually look down when I mean to have my head neutral. I've overcorrected. I've also been doing something weird and awkward with my arms. And all this fantastic body knowledge thanks to what could've been one of those old-school "OMG I am so FAT, I need a DIET" episodes.

My crises?* Are AWESOME.

* This is not, in fact, an example of a crisis in the sense of a Great Big Problem; it's just a thing I thought a lot about.

The same week that the BBC was publishing studies about how DANGEROUSLY SHORT we're getting, Reuters also covered the BMI project we were talking about a couple of weeks ago. It's not just coming out and saying "BMI is stupid", but it's pretty close, and pretty national. So, yay.