talking about weight gain with strangers
I went on a walking tour of Brooklyn the other day, with my visiting bonus mom and Bear and some other people we didn’t know. I learned that when the Brooklyn Bridge was constructed, it was the tallest thing on the horizon. Hard to imagine! I learned some other stuff, too, and I already forget most of it.
One of the women on the tour turned out to have gone to grad school at the same place as me, and she had lived in the same neighborhood during.
“Remember Gray’s Papaya?” she said. “Remember Koronet’s pizza? I think I gained twenty pounds.”
“Oh, I remember,” I said. And we laughed.
We had a little moment of bonding. The way women do when they talk about how much weight they’ve gained.
I think most women bond over college this way. I have had the conversation hundreds of times, now.
“Remember freshman year? All I ate was ice cream.”
“Me too. I ate ice cream three meals a day.”
“I gained twenty pounds.”
“Me too! I totally gained twenty pounds!”
We’ve all gained twenty pounds during some ill-advised period of ice cream and pizza eating. That’s what being a woman is about.
Sort of. At least, that’s what we can talk about when we have just met each other. And that’s what we can talk about when we are getting to know each other. And that’s what we can talk about even after we know each other well.
Is it bad?
I don’t know. I can’t decide. I love Koronet’s pizza. I haven’t stopped eating it. Maybe in ten years, I’ll say to another woman, “Oh god–when I lived in the city, I must’ve gained twenty pounds eating pizza all the time.” Maybe this will have been sort of a dark period. The Time Right Before I Started Yoga. I’ll skip over my journal entries and delete this entire blog. “Eat the damn cake?” I’ll say, rolling my eyes. “Try ‘Go On A Diet, Kate’.” (I won’t have become incredibly clever by then.)
But I’m really, really hoping that I’ll still be eating pizza, and I’ll just feel like it’s OK. And I’ll not be quite as concerned about how I look as I am now. And I’ll be this astoundingly famous novelist. And –OK. Anyway.
We can talk about other things. We don’t have to bond over weight. But it’s easy. And it’s easy because of a lot of bad reasons. Culture. TV. Patriarchy. Yeah, I went there. But it’s true, really, when you get into it. So joking about weight might be our way of dealing. And maybe I’m overanalyzing (I’ve been known to) when I even poke around and question such trivial little cheerful things.
But for a second, sometimes, when women say to me, “You know how it goes,” and laugh and point at their sides or their belly or their thighs (“Right to the thighs!”), I feel awkward, and I don’t know what to say back. I want to say, “You look great!” Because it seems like that’s the thing they’re worried about, underneath the joking.
And then I catch myself saying, “Oh, freshman year, don’t get me started,” and I realize I’m just saying that because it’s the thing to say, not because I was actually devastated by my weight gain freshman year, and not because I’m even thinking about it at that moment. But because it is the way I’ve learned to communicate with other women. And it’s hard to imagine not communicating that way. It would feel awkward and a little ridiculous to interject with, “We are all beautiful, no matter what our weight!”
(me, freshman year, not caring about weighing nearly twenty pounds more than I had when I started college. Obviously, when I started college, I was very skinny. My ribs stuck out.)
(I remember feeling very womanly when I first gained that weight)
(a little like a fertility goddess. I had an active imagination)
Maybe it’s nothing, I tell myself. We’re just joking. It’s fine. Which might be perfectly true plenty of the time. But sometimes I think there might be something more serious, just under the surface.
I realize that when I say, “You look great, though,” it is an empty response. Our reactions to our own bodies are too complicated and deeply personal and dramatic and tortured and habitual and ingrained to rehabilitate through a casual conversation.
And, overanalyzing as usual, I get the sense that we are each very alone as we say blithely in passing to each other, “Ugh, my stupid fat thighs” and “That was a bad year– fifteen pounds…” and “Well, I’ll never be thin like her. Can’t stop stuffing my face like a pig.”
Because sometimes I catch myself saying, automatically, “Look at my ridiculous arms! How did they get that fat?”
And it’s not just casual. It’s because I think about my arms a lot. Too much. And when my friends say, “What? Your arms are fine!” I don’t even hear them. I already know. I know the truth. And the horrible truth fits so neatly into the language of weight and women that I don’t even have to disguise it. I can say some of the meanest things I think about myself, casually, in public. And it will sound normal.
Maybe there’s something a little bit wrong with that.
Which is not to say I blame the woman on the walking tour of Brooklyn. I’m glad we bonded briefly over pizza. Although maybe I’d rather bond over how good pizza tastes.
* * *
Unroast: Today I love the way I look when I remember to put my shoulders back.
P.S. Last night, we were at some friends of my bonus mom’s, and she was showing them pictures, and, being a mom, she always thinks that Bear and I look cute in every picture in which we are smiling, and she showed her friends this kind of blurry one, and one of them said, “Oh, is that Bear and one of Kate’s brothers?” And I said, “Nope, that’s me, looking like a boy.” And she got a little embarrassed, and said, “Why did you cut your hair anyway?” And, instantly, I said, “Because I didn’t want to look like a girl anymore.” It was a joke, and everyone laughed, but, in a weird way, I was satisfied with that answer. Sometimes “looking like a girl” doesn’t interest me a whole lot.
Kate on September 7th 2011 in Uncategorized
K responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 1:18 pm #
Hi Kate!
I’ve been following your blog for a little while now and I never commented because I always feel weird commenting on someone’s blog who I’ve never met (almost like I’m intruding to somewhere I’m not supposed to be) but this post was just..so…GOOD. SO dead on and I just wanted to thank you for articulating things in your blog that we all feel but maybe aren’t brave enough or clear-headed enough to admit.
Cheers,
K
Ashling responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 1:19 pm #
Maybe, just maybe, the bonding over weight is a “I’ll show you my vulnerability if you’ll show me yours”. Not all the time, but ocacsionally. Whether it’s culturally healthy or not, the majority of womyn in this country can relate to it, so it becomes a common thread and shared exposure of our underbellies (literally as well as figuratively!), putting us on equal footing. Maybe what we want sometimes is to know we’re not alone in our weaknesses, vulnerabilities, indulgences, and are looking for affirmation that we’re okay despite them, and not reassurance (at that moment) about looks. But I think it’s awesome, genuinely kind and affirming that your innate desire is to provide that reassurance…
Harriet May responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 1:28 pm #
Ugh, yes. Sometimes I stand in front of the mirror and prod myself, while my boyfriend yells at me things like, “are you serious? I can’t take this!” because he is sick of hearing the fat talk again. And my mom is just the worst. I mean, my mom is wonderful. But all she’s ever talked about for as long as I know her is how fat she is, and sometimes I believe that she believes it and sometimes I can tell she just says it so we all say “What are you talking about? You’re so thin!!” because really she is thin. I think my mother has a much nicer figure than I do and sometimes it kills me because her talking about how fat she is makes me hate how fat I am. Why do we do this to ourselves, to each other? I’m not sure but lately I have been trying to change the dialogue with my mother. So when we see extremely thin women on TV, I say things like, “Now, really, if you saw her in real life you would not admire her, you’d be seriously concerned for her” and talking about what my body can do as a runner, which I tell myself to focus on way more. Because I know that I’m healthy. And I did gain 20 pounds in college, and lose a little of that since then, but so what, really? At least that’s what I try to tell myself.
Kimmy Sue Ruby Lou responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 2:08 pm #
the very last line of your PS…i totally get that comment. part of me is always a little pissed about what it means to be a girl, in this world (especially watching my 3 daughters struggle with it)…and i have defiantly become more natural with my own appearance…haven’t colored my hair in over a year and i love the salt and pepper.
erika responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 2:15 pm #
I went to college worried about the “freshman fifteen” only to lose weight–along with everyone else I knew. Turned out that trying to live off of the provided meal plan was a good way to starve. I had my parents ship me box upon box of instant oatmeal. I and the rest of the girls in my dorm would have loved to be able to have more access to food. So…I guess there’s always another side to the story.
Stephanie responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 2:22 pm #
I think sometimes it’s the circles we are in, or the cities we live in. I can’t remember a lot of conversations about weight with other women, not at this level and certainly not with people as thin as you appear to be in all of your pictures. But then again I grew up in the Midwest and now live in Texas. Perhaps that is the difference. I imagine in New York and L.A. the focus on appearance is much more heightened.
That’s not to say that I don’t care about my weight. I do, but it generally falls into the “why don’t these pants fit anymore?” category. I hate having to replace clothes if I get too big for them. And I do care about my appearance to the extent that I can’t handle it when my clothes just don’t feel right or look right. So maybe we all play this game, but in different ways. Of course, I never gained weight until I got pregnant with my kids.
Deanna responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 3:08 pm #
Here’s what I think: The media has to keep us unhappy with our bodies because unhappy or dissatisfied people buy product. If you were content with your weight, hair, skin etc…you wouldn’t spend money or at least not as much.
I also think it is very regional as Stephanie said. I think Miami may be the worst place followed by LA and NY. The women there are truly all about their looks. It’s sad because some of them (I am thinking more about Miami and some of the women I’ve seen there)are almost freaky looking because they are so perfect. They look like there were produced or manufactured and not born like the rest of us.
I think beautiful women are often insecure because they know their looks may not last and they worry about women who look better. I am sure most models are insecure about who the next big model or star will be.
One thing I will say before I ‘shut up’ is that no matter what the media says or does, it isn’t healthy to be overweight or very overweight so it’s important we realize that it’s more than just looks but also health. Very thin is also unhealthy but obesity is never a good thing.
San D responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 3:15 pm #
I think speaking about weight gain is a secret code we women have been programmed to say. The ” I am fat, I gain weight, you are thin, you don’t gain weight, oh wait, you think you are fat, you gain weight too, or look I am thin, I am clearly a better person that you because you are clearly overweight, or we both have weight issues, and these issues are hard to wrap our intellectual heads around” code of bonding.
Jen responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 3:25 pm #
In response to Deanna about not being obese: the thing that irritates me is how normal-proportioned women are portrayed as overweight. If an actress is a size 12 or 14, she’s a failure.
Bu–there was a photo spread in People showing real women of various sizes, and the size 10-12 athlete looks as fit as the size 6 woman next to her. Their bodies were differently shaped. A larger number does NOT EQUAL UGLY. Their number fixation is maddening, because I’ll feel fine and fit…and then flip through a People magazine and feel fat. I’m 5’10” and a size 10/12. By their standards, I’m chubby. Those f—ers. I know–stop looking at People Magazine. I know.
Kate responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 3:34 pm #
I’m also really interested in the regional differences comment. Thanks for that! It’s helpful for me to have NYC be put in perspective sometimes. It’s easy to get wrapped up in it.
Kate responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 3:35 pm #
@Jen
So very much with you here. Sometimes I also hear women talking about other women’s weight gain like, “Oh, she used to look so good…” and I think, “She looks amazing! Why does heavier always have to mean worse??”
You can call me Jane responded on 07 Sep 2011 at 3:37 pm #
I’m not opposed to talking about weight with close girlfriends who know that if I’m talking about it it’s because it’s an issue I really want to talk about. I do get very uncomfortable when women make comments when we aren’t very close yet…especially in front of children. Weight is NOT something I talk about within ear shot of kids- boys or girls. When they’re grown-ups, they can care about it if they wish, but if they’re healthy kids, it should not be on their radar (so I believe).
Layla responded on 08 Sep 2011 at 3:23 am #
I actually get really uncomfortable when I’m with women who do that. Not because I don’t have my own insecurities, but because I think we’re doing ourselves down if we do that to ourselves. It’s like we’re agreeing that this is how things should be. And like you said, I don’t often challenge it by saying the opposite, because people don’t want to hear that, but I try not to get involved in it because I end up feeling bad about myself.
poet responded on 08 Sep 2011 at 3:57 am #
What you write is absolutely true! And in my experience, when I as a woman refuse to bond over body-and-weight-gain-self-bashing (partly because I can’t really come up with a situation where I’ve gained lots of weight, being one of the genetically dis(?)advantaged skinny people, partly because I’m stubborn with my feminist body-positive ideals), other women who don’t yet know me well will get very angry at me. Even though I tell them: “Hey, you look beautiful the way you are, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Which indicates, of course, how much is wrong with us as a culture… sigh.
camelshoes responded on 08 Sep 2011 at 11:27 am #
I’ve come to realise how fortunate I was growing up. My mother never talked this way in front of my sister and I, nor were there ever any “gossip” magazines in the house. My sister and I were encouraged to play sport and be outside, as well as indoor hobbies like reading. We were encouraged to try different activities and have fun rather than worry about what we looked like doing it!
I don’t really remember the “fat talk” being so prominant then. I’m not sure if it was because I was a child then and kind of oblivious, or because people cared less about “fatness” in the 80s or because people were fitter because more time was spent playing outside than playing PS3 or texting, or because I lived in the country, or if my mother really was amazingly good at shielding my sister and I from it all.
But whatever it was, I’m grateful. I find the “fat talk” odd, and I find it hard to participate in the way that I think I’m supposed to – instead, as with you, Kate, I want to tell these women, my friends, that they look amazing and in years to come they’ll look back at photos of themselves and see just how amazing they looked and wonder why they ever thought they looked bad!
Amy responded on 08 Sep 2011 at 3:47 pm #
You know, this reminds me of me recently. My 10 year high school reunion is in a few months. And immediately upon finding out the date I thought, “I have to lose 15 pounds!!!”. But, then, I reconsidered. Because, I’ve noticed something about my relationship with women since I’ve gained the extra weight after having my two children: Other women seem to be nicer to me.
Before I gained weight, I was always a lot skinnier than the majority of women that I knew. I never felt included in their discussions about having a hard time finding clothes that fit or not wanting to eat a second slice of pizza. I would get yelled at if I tried to join in with a complaint about my body. Honestly, I felt left out. And ever since I had my kids and my weight is considered to be more “normal” I seem to connect with more women. I can join in the conversations about feeling fat with a, “tell me about it, girl!!”, or something like that. I guess it’s nice to finally feel the comradery with other women that I felt excluded from earlier in life. I feel part of the “15 extra pounds” club. And I was actually afraid to lose any weight before my reunion in fear of being left out…even though all I do CONSTANTLY is complain about it to my husband.
Is that weird? Women are very very interesting. That’s for sure.
Kate responded on 08 Sep 2011 at 3:50 pm #
@Amy
This comment is really interesting!
daria responded on 12 Sep 2011 at 12:14 am #
Huh, interesting. I completely agree with you on culture, TV, patriarchy. Another aspect of this that I also noticed is that we don’t even have a concept or model for what a growing and developing woman’s body looks like. It seems that we all (culture, TV, patriarchy) tend to venerate a 16 year old girl’s body. For example, I actually developed quite a bit in college, as compared to my high school self. I.e. my hips, breasts and thighs filled out quite a bit, and I don’t think it was JUST because of the “freshman 15”, but also because I was going from being a 17 year old to 22 and now to 27. And I have no idea what a 27 year old woman’s body is supposed to look like! I seriously have no reference (besides the women in my own family)! So there’s also that.
And also for me, I don’t usually bond with women over weight, mostly, probably because I refuse to engage in those conversations. It probably makes me miss some bonding moments. But I consciously refuse to bond over over-weight. It doesn’t mean that I don’t think about my body ALL THE TIME or check myself out (not in a good way) as I pass windows of stores on the street, but I just want to eliminate this discourse from the public, or maybe rather, change the public discourse. Because I do believe that we all have many many more qualities and interesting stories to bond over. So yeah, I mean, I don’t know where this leaves me. Maybe it closes some conversational doors, but it’s just something that I try to try in my life…
Lynelle responded on 18 Sep 2011 at 7:42 am #
First time reader here!
What I find weird is that if I moan about putting weight on and my friends say I look good, I actually feel offended. I feel like saying, “I know I look good! I don’t FEEL good! My clothes are tight and my boobs are heavy and I’m that much more tired at the end of the day because I’m carrying around 10 kilos I don’t need!” I know they’re trying to help and I should feel reassured somehow, but actually I just feel insulted that (a) they think I need reassuring, and (b) they think they only problem with putting weight on is how you look. And, yet, if someone complains to me about gaining weight, the response that jumps to my lips is, “you still look good…” and if I hold back on that response then I’m afraid they’ll think I think they look awful. Basically, the whole cycle is nuts.