Tag Archives: plus-sized

Baggy

Wear what feels good to YOU!

Well it was hot in So Cal this past weekend so I did what every single other red-blooded California resident did and I went to the mall. I wasn’t really intent on shopping but rather on killing loads of time. So I went to lots of stores and tried lots of stuff on. My husband was with me, so naturally he rendered his opinions.

Often as I tried things on, he sent me back to the dressing room with a smaller size. It’s not that I’m losing weight (I’m not). It’s just that my renewed body confidence and my supportive husband are encouraging me to come out of the fat closet and wear clothes that actually fit. Many of the clothes in my closet at home are gorgeous, but at least one size too big. Often when I try something on that I love, if it shows even a leetle roll or jiggle or chub, I buy one size larger. A lot of the clothes in my wardrobe hang on me. Because, somehow, in my little brain, I imagined that if folks couldn’t SEE the rolls or chub or jiggle, they would imagine that it wasn’t there.

Trouble was, they can’t really see my body at all. And I’m coming to realize that my body is FABULOUS and it’s simply a crime to hide it under a big drape-y thing that is far too large for my frame. So I’m actively working now to buy clothes that show my body rather than draping it under the wardrobe equivalent of a sheet and hoping that folks imagine my body is fantastic.

Now my little chickadees, I want you to understand that you can wear anything you like. If you want to wear a muumuu, then by all means do so and feel free to ROCK that thing. I’m just reminding you that you have a choice. Maybe you could dare to bare just a little bit. Show some arms. Buy a skirt that curves lovingly around your butt. Wear a shirt that shows off some fantastic cleavage. Whatever floats your proverbial boat. Because it’s your fabulous body and you should show it off (or not show it off) any way you darn well please!

Love,

The Fat Chick

Reductionism: Why They Want Us Smaller

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Yup, those dogs sure like to chase!

A friend of mine recently started experiencing a lot of success and positive attention in her career. She started doing really well, and began to realize some of the dreams she’s had for decades. But she also started seeing a lot more criticism for her weight, and found that that criticism had become nastier than before.

In addition to the increase in body shaming she received, she found that she was also feeling especially vulnerable to these negative comments. She found that things she might have easily shrugged off a few weeks ago were now hurting her deeply. She found herself frustrated both with herself and her peers. And she found herself yelling at herself for her hurt and her tears. It led her to ask me, “what is going on here?”

I think that as we get larger in the world and as we make a bigger impact, forces both within and without conspire to make us want to be smaller. I think this is true for two reasons:

Many of us women have been taught all our lives to be smaller. Think about it. From the time of our birth, many of us girls were taught to fade into the background. We were taught to sit with our legs together with our handbag sharing the seat. We were taught not to brag, not to make too big of a deal of ourselves, and not to make too much noise. So I think, for many of us, as our lives become larger, we are triggered by a desire to make our bodies smaller. We feel so conspicuous and so exposed by the new attention in our lives, we want to shrink back down, curl up, and not expose our luscious bellies to the enemies.

Dogs don’t bark at a parked car. And it’s not so surprising, really that our enemies head directly for our soft underbellies just as we start to see some success. Most of our enemies were taught the same thing we were taught. They were taught to be small and humble and inconspicuous. So what happens when they see somebody who starts to grow in stature and achieve many of the dreams they may have had for themselves? What happens when they see the car speeding away from them? They start chasing, and they start barking. And oh my goodness what a racket they make! When folks see somebody achieving something they wish the had the guts to go after, do you think they are introspective and use it as a life lesson to get themselves off their butts? Well some folks do. But most folks just run along side, nipping at the tires and yipping their fool heads off.

So my dear chicklettes, this week I’d like to talk about reduction. I want to talk about making our doubts smaller and our lives bigger and louder and even more amazing! Because I don’t want you to let the yipping dogs slow you down. Oh no. I want you to speed on ahead in your gorgeous, great big convertible and leave all those other dogs panting in the dust.

Love,

The Fat Chick

Thursday Theater: Exercise for People of Size

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Steppin’ out can include stepping into an exercise program. In this week’s video I talk about how to maintain physical and emotional safety while exercising in a big body.

So my dear feathered friends, find some exercise birds to flock with and shake your collective groove things!

Love,
The Fat Chick

Finding Help: Buyer Beware

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When it comes to fitness, if it hurts, DON’T DO IT!

So far this week we’ve been talking about helping others. And I’m a BIG fan of that. Today we’re going to talk about finding help for yourself. And I’m a BIG fan of that too. But in finding help, you DO need to be careful.

Settle in my little chickies, and I’ll tell you a little story–an instructive parable as it were. At one point in my life, when I was deeply worried about being thin, I panicked and I hired a personal trainer. Now believe me, I think having a personal trainer can be an awesome investment. But in this case, I was ruled by panic. Did I check to see if this guy was certified? Nope. Did I ask to talk to other students of his? Uh uh. Did I even do an online search to see if this guy was a maniac? That would be negative. I saw the guys phone number on the gym bulletin board, I called him and I started working with him.

I should also mention that at the time I could barely afford to buy food or medicine. But that didn’t matter because this guy was gonna do it. He was gonna make me skinny and from there on out my life would be PERFECT.

I should have known from the very first workout that this guy was not for me. The FIRST thing he did, before he did an intake questionnaire or asked me about my fitness level or fitness goals or potential health problems was to plunk me on a treadmill, crank up the speed, crank up the incline and to tell me to stay on there for 20 minutes. And by goodness I DID stay on there for 20 minutes. Sweating, wheezing, heart pounding, and feeling sick, I staggered over to where he was reading a muscle magazine. “Wow,” he said. “I wasn’t really expecting you to do the whole 20 minutes. Now we can get down to some real work.”

Now my little chicklettes, that scenario is what we in the business call a “clue”. The guy basically threw me into a “maximal” testing situation where he intended to test me to failure, but he didn’t check my history first, he didn’t monitor me and, here’s something important, he DIDN’T BOTHER TO TELL ME that’s what we were doing. Dangerous? Yup. Epic stupidity? Yah, you betcha! But he later confessed he didn’t tell me because he could tell by looking at me that I was “soft” and he didn’t want me to “wimp out”.

But did I yell at him? Did I quit giving him money? No I did not. I kept training with him because he was thin and muscular and I was fat. I trained with him for months. Unable to walk after our exercise sessions, frequently vomiting in the locker room after workouts and feeling sick and miserable, I worked with him until I got injured and couldn’t work out any more. And I guess you can tell at this point, I’m still pretty darn angry about it.

Look, if I had tuned in with my instincts, which were SCREAMING by the way, that I should RUN (well at least stagger) away from this guy, I could have avoided a whole lot of heartache and saved money to buy something awesome, like shoes. But I allowed my feelings of insecurity and false hopes to lure me into getting myself hurt.

So my little chicklettes, the lesson is this. Please do seek help. We all need help from time to time. No woman is an island. But please seek help that is competent, qualified, and compassionate. Do your research first. Shop around. Ask questions. Ask for references. Ask for qualifications. Any trainer, doctor, therapist or coach who doesn’t want to give this sort of information to you is not worth considering. And if your instincts tell you that this isn’t the right person for you or that you don’t feel safe, leave. Take your toys and GO HOME.

Because my sweet little chickadees, when it comes to helpers as with everything in life, you deserve only the best.

Love,

The Fat Chick

Why it’s Good Karma to Put Yourself Forward

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Dancin with myself at the Relay for Life event…

Among many activities this weekend, I went and did the morning wake-up workout and stretch for the American Cancer Society Relay for Life in Southern California. It was early. And when I got there, it seemed like most people were still sleeping. I wondered if they even really wanted me there.

I went to plug my iPod and microphone into the sound system. But there was no power. There were lots of cables, but no power. So I followed all the cables to a gas-powered generator. Luckily there were directions on the top, so I fired that up. But after just a few minutes, it died. Okay. So I looked around and located the fuel gauge. EMPTY. But, I didn’t give up. I looked around and found some gas, brought it to the generator, filled it up, fired it up, got all my sound gear set up and started.

At first I was the only person exercising–all by my myself, at 6:30 in the morning, in the middle of this huge field. Suddenly somebody felt sorry for me and started doing some of the movements from across the field. He never did come right over, but he smiled as he did them. I noticed other people from way far away around the field start doing some of the arm movements along with me. They smiled and they danced from afar as they packed their tents in preparation for the closing ceremonies. I joked about having the most spread out fitness class in history. But I kept at it.

Eventually, one woman came right over and danced with me for a little while. When I went over for coffee afterwards I heard from everybody what a great job I did even though I didn’t have a big class of people in front of me. The lady who danced with me got very excited when she heard about my class, and I think she’s going to come for some of them. And one lady even gave me a hula hoop to say thanks! They loved it! So I could gone home bummed that I didn’t have a photo opp with hundreds of people dancing in perfect step. But I chose to be thrilled that I made a difference for somebody–anybody.

So here comes the metaphor kids…We’d like to believe that once we put ourselves out front, we’ll achieve instant rock star status and have a huge following. We want to believe that a limo will pick us up and whisk us to a dressing room featuring our brand of bottled water and bowls of M&Ms with just the green ones. But my experience, in learning to put myself out there as a plus-sized fitness instructor who supports body diversity is that it goes a lot more like my experience in that misty field at 6:30 in the morning. Sometimes you’ve got to fire up and gas the generator. Usually, you have to make your own crowd. Many people watch. Some join from a far. And just a few step right up. But my dear chicklettes, you never know how much impact you’re having or how much good you’re doing. You never know when you’re changing somebody’s life for the better.

So my little chicklettes, I’m going to suggest you put yourself forward this week in some small way. Help somebody out. Share your positive energy with complete strangers. Remember, you don’t have to be a rock star to make the world a better place.

Love,

The Fat Chick