Tag Archives: Small seats

Fitting In – Hating the Simpsons and Loving the Kindness of Strangers

Laurie in bike gear looks out to sea with rolling waves on a sunny day.
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I take a moment to reflect on the beauty of the day and how lucky I feel to be on this ride. I don’t take my mobility or the weather for granted.

Holy F Even Cartoons Are Creating Body Shame These Days!

Just before Mark and I left to drive up to Ventura for another few days of R and R riding the beach, I killed time by watching the Simpsons, a long running cartoon that skewers American culture, family stereotypes , fads and every other thing you can think of. It centers around Homer, a beer-guzzling, donut bingeing, somewhat good-hearted, somewhat clueless idiot, his long-suffering blue-haired wife Marge, and his three kids. I usually enjoy the Simpsons, and since I’ve been studying voice acting, I watch as many cartoons as possible to mimic the voices and study the line delivery.

But imagine my chagrin, when this episode centered around Homer’s fat ass being stuck in an auditorium chair and his ripping the entire row up as he tried to rise for a standing ovation for a performance of his kids. He then went on to exclaim about “Don’t fear me”, inferring he, and his fat-assedness were indeed monstrous. Homer then was persuaded by Marge to go to Fattie’s Anonymous to get help losing weight, and instead, comically landed in a support group for being proud of your size. This group glorified gaining weight as wonderful, were shown as blubberous idiots in denial of their health, and even as Homer has the wondrous realization that for once he could be PROUD of who he actually was, the group is arrested for protesting, can’t fit in the cell, the leader dies at 23 from heart failure as he attempts to rise from his scooter chair, and the funeral gag showed about 25 urns of ashes being needed for this big fatties’ cremation. The end result? Homer says to Marge, “I’m sorry Marge, I’ll never try to be proud of myself again. I’ll yoyo diet until I get it right”. Then we see the years flash by as Homer balloons and shrinks, becomes buff and big and small and flabby, until finally he is buff and his now adult kids are proud of him when Homer is about 65 years old. Yes, I admit the Simpsons had good jokes in this episode, and this show skewers every group eventually. But I couldn’t believe how depressed I was by it. For the underlying societal expectations could not be more clear.

  1. You are a sloppy monster (not one of us) if you can’t fit in a seat
  2. You should be ashamed of yourself if you are not trying all you can to get thin
  3. Large size equals ill health and death

Sigh.

This really bugged the hell out of me and I am struggling to let it go. Now, it is NO surprise to me that in my culture, body fat is considered bad in every way. It is no surprise that fat people are considered “less than” and somewhat stupid – after all, ONLY an idiot would not address this BURNING HEALTH ISSUE. So what if there are eating disorders blooming all across the nation based on these ideas? After all, isn’t it BETTER to be THIN at ANY COST? I say no, but then again, I am not thin.

I am putting my energy into living my life outside of the focus and compulsion of trying to change my body. Unlike Homer, for the the last year, I have not yo-yoed “Trying to get it right”. I have instead accepted my body, even while I WISH I could fit in seats better.

The only positive I can see from this cartoon episode is that I identify anger at these ideas and portrayals vs. at myself for being one of the skewered group. This is huge. I don’t feel compelled to change so as not to be laughed at by a cartoon stereotype. I don’t accept the stereotype. I don’t dispute some of what the stereotype is based upon. I can also take a joke. But what this episode represents makes me very sad. Not for me, but that I live in a society that cannot accept size as an actual usual difference among humans.

Love you K from the Pantages

This damned Simpsons episode could not have come at a worse time. As I have ranted during my show, my pair-shaped butt and large thighs do NOT fit into coach seats on airplanes OR in the small, historical seats of the Pantages Theater in Hollywood where Mark and I have season tickets. Note that Mark weighs much more than I do, AND he’s about 7 inches taller. And HE can fit because his weight is in his tummy, not his ass. I really DO feel like a monster when I try to shoehorn myself into these seats and it’s even worse when I have a left-hand neighbor giving me the “Oh my god you are fat” glare. To be fair, this has only happened once – but that was enough.

Now It’s time to consider re-upping for next season or not. Not thinking that anything could be done (outside of me losing about 40+ pounds), I called the theater to explore possibilities. I was lucky enough to speak with a friendly, compassionate, and cool dude who I’ll call K. According to K there is a small chance that I can at least purchase the seat to my immediate left as well, later on when the season tickets are all re-purchased or not. There are some seats in the theater that have armrests that come up (but these would not work with Mark’s need to be on an aisle). So bottom line, I need to decide if the thrill of seeing the shows are worth the physical and emotional discomfort of the theater’s seats.

I loved speaking with K as he was so funny and compassionate. I told him, “I just don’t have an historic Hollywood body. I’m much more a midwest kind of lady”. We also talked about Kinky Boots and diversity and other topics. K never made me feel badly and followed up with compassion. In his email outlining my options, he added a PS,

“Remember, you are PERFECT as you are.”

Off to Ventura


Let’s leave rant-ville and focus on the fun possibilities in life. Fat ass or not, my strong legs can peddle me all over the place! I love to see the coast line, and given the weather many are suffering with Winter Storm Marcus, I am glad to be riding with MY Mark instead.

Laurie and Mark in bike gear on a sunny day on the bike trail near the coast.

Some of the times we feel closest as a couple is bike riding at the beach.

Sunny day, train tracks in foreground coastal waves beyond

You can see the waves break along the shore in Ventura. The tracks the Coast Starlight follows are seen here.

Sunset into the sea

Another melting sunset as we finish our bike ride.

Body Balance


Since I’m blogging, I’m combining my status here:

BB (Body Balance) number 9 Sleep: 9 hours divided (good first 4, good next 4, good last 1) Tummy/Gut: balanced. Hungry after 1 hour of waking. Small breakfast satisfied. Will eat again before our ride. Energy: High. Mood: Happy and grateful (except for the seat fitting rage)

BB is my personal criteria, and I don’t think too hard about it. I ask myself at the keyboard, what is my BB? A number between 1-10, including halves, pops into my head. I write it in my post Then I figure out why it is higher or lower and gently make note.

If you are interested these are my measures.

  1. Sleep. Quality and Amount.
  2. Tummy/Gut – If I ate what my body asked for, usually above and below the belly button feel balanced. Ate too much, below the belly button feels more full. Ate too little, the reverse.
  3. Am I hungry within 1 hour of waking? I have found that I feel best if I am hungry within 1 hour of waking. This tends to make my eating day even and not heavy on food in the evening. But I don’t eat if not hungry unless I’m about to ride or hike. I’ve learned I need to fuel these morning activities, or I’ll bonk.
  4. What is my energy level? Subjective, but telling.
  5. A quick look at my mood.

The Bravery Coach

TheBraveryCoach daily tweet is a morning mediation on how I either did, or can incorporate an aspect of bravery into my day. It is cheerful. It is esteem building. Those who want to follow these on Twitter may, by searching for the hashtag #bravery or by seeing my profile:

Daily Bravery Tweets via TheBraveryCoach on Twitter

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Scaling back on Feel Fat Triggers

Laurie in a red biking scarf with Mark in a purple Hawaiian shirt in a restaurant with Mark's arm around Laurie.
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Mark and I had the BEST sunset dinner last night. It was So delicious and leisurely and the opposite of compulsive.

I’ve Been Feeling Fat Lately

Sigh, the bane of any self-respecting, body-accepting, intuitive-eating, adventurer is the common gotcha bug that can bite at ANY TIME aka as ‘FEELING FAT’. What the hell IS feeling fat anyway? As we all know, fat ISN’T a true emotional feeling like joy, sorrow, anger etc. Fat is a thing. It’s part of our bodies. Can’t have too little, we need some, and it’s debatable exactly how much is too much. So If I look at my hefty-size thigh, WHICH fat cells are the evil bastards, and which are the good, protective soldiers, hmmm?

Can’t tell. Can’t circle with a marker and declare THIS ONE MUST GO – due to any attribute other than quantity. Now, I do know that there actually are different types of fat on our bodies, some more beneficial medically, so I’m not debating that – but truly, where is that magic line that says, “You fat cell, are good” – “You fat cell are evil and shameful”?

I don’t know about you, but I don’t know of it. It’s like culling the herd, or thinning young oranges off of a tree so the others can grow. The fat cells have done nothing more than exist in too many numbers. Some of the numbers may or may not impact health. Some numbers definately impact our “societal worth”, dang it, but overall, there is NO DIFFERENCE. It’s the luck of the draw which fat cells are protective and which push us into despair.

Laurie and Mark in front of the Wicked Marquee at the Pantages

LOVED seeing Wicked at the Pantages Theatre with Mark – Hate the Chairs there.

Trigger 1 – Chairs

Now depending on your body type, booths or chairs may trigger ‘Feeling Fat’. Mark is an apple shape, so he is more concerned with tummy fitting under the table in a booth. I am a pear, so I am more concerned with my behind and thighs fitting into chairs with arms. To be squeezed into either scenario can set off a firestorm of shame and feeling like a monster. A monster who “does not fit in”. Those with society approved, ‘normal’ sized bodies cannot fathom the shame that occurs when you get the glare from those seated next to you in coach class in the air or at the movies when your parts encroach on their space. Now actually, most modern movie and theatrical venues do have bigger seats – some will argue, AWFUL PROOF OF OBESITY EPIDEMIC. But I say, it is about time that we can fit. I don’t mind paying more. In fact, I remember fitting into coach pretty well even at a bigger size than I am today, before low fare, barebones, Southwest airlines began a fare war with all airlines resulting in cost cutting measures including the elimination of decent meals on flights and stuffing as many seats into the plane as possible to maximize profit making seats narrower and leg room less. I won’t even begin to discuss here how horrendously Southwest treats what they call “Oversize” guests either. The embarrassment and shame of it all. I tell you frankly I fly business or first class or I don’t fly. Why? To be elitist? No! To fit in the GD seat! To purchase two coach seats STILL causes me to be squeezed in a vice that leaves bruises on my legs. It only relieves me of the glare of the aforementioned co-sitter who might have to be subjected to my size. Now I’ve told you frankly I weigh around 200-215 pounds at best guess, and I wear 18W pants. This is bigger than the national average. But I have PLENTY OF COMPANY. Mark, btw can fly in coach as his tummy can fit in front of him. He just has trouble if he wants to lower the flight table. And he has NO ROOM for his legs as he is 6’2″. ARGH! Not fitting physically in is psychologically triggering to self-blame.

Same thing with clothes. When our clothes feel tight, we are prone to feeling despair and shame. Wear a size that fits, you’ll feel better.

Anyway, the Pantages is a historical theater with the worlds smallest, least legroom available seats I have EVER squeezed into at any size. I saw the Lion King there when I was thin, and STILL felt squeezed. Today with my glorious curves abounding, it is hell. I LOVE the shows, HATE the chairs, and when this season ticket is over, I won’t go back. I’m over it, truly.

Trigger 2 – Facing the Dr. and the Scale.

I had my annual check-up the other day and as those of you who read my status updates on FB know, I got myself in a huge tizzy of fear and self-loathing over it. I usually diet like mad for the month before the Dr. visit, trying to undo ALL of my compulsive bingeing, AND I get weighed right before so I can tell the nurse a HIGHER number than I know that I am in order to deflect from my actual weight. They always say, “Oh no, you ONLY weigh 285 NOT 315! or some such nonsense”.

This year, as those of you who follow this blog and podcast know, I have no frickin’ clue what I weigh. I don’t know how I compare to last year. I don’t know anything. I couldn’t tell the nurse some number, because it might be less, and she’s have to announce, “sorry, you’re MORE than that”.

Hear all of this angst? I’m right back into diet mentality and shame and feeling “less than as a person” because my possible scale number might prove me unworthy.

Besides that I don’t WANT to know my scale number. I am doing well maintaining my size without weighing. A number is a trigger for me. But I was scared to ask for what I wanted.

Laurie 1 – Scale 0

So I buckled on my spine and passed through a big victory for me.

It’s been over 150 days since I packed up my own scale and put it on the highest shelf in the garage, so I don’t know my weight at all for the first time since I was 6 years old.

However, since I gave up weighing and have been working the principles of IE I’ve been wearing the same size clothing and so know my actual weight hasn’t changed much.

I have been very heavy AND normal sized, but due to my issues with dieting/bingeing, my weight was always in flux, always swinging wildly up and down the scale by 30-40 pounds, usually several times in any one year. So I’m not even sure what I weighed last year. If I had lost, gained or stayed the same.

Determined not to know any number that would derail my progress, I told the nurse, I don’t weigh myself or want to know my weight number anymore. So while you can weigh me for proper medication, I don’t want you to tell me or have the Dr. tell me the actual number.

This was such a big deal in my head, but it wasn’t anything but neutral to the nurse. She has obviously had this request enough to have a process, and just had me weigh with my back to the scale bars, and she slid the bars back to zero before having me step off, and noted my chart. My Dr. never mentioned my weight, just went over which tests we were doing etc. We talked about other health related topics, and how long until the blood test results would be in etc.

I can’t believe I built this up so strongly as fear in my head. It shows how entrenched my shame and diet mentality is and how tied I still am to what a number can say. I’m so happy I spoke up and got what I needed today.– to NOT know what that number is. Someday I might want or need to know, but not today. Today I took care of myself and that feels awesome.

Laurie looks peaceful as she holds Tiger

Ahh, sweet comfort of Tiger my cuddly cat who doesn’t give a fig about the size of his cat-mama. In fact to him, more to knead and cuddle is a benefit.

Scales Suck, I Rock, and I’m Going to think on Tiger in Future

My cat Tiger doesn’t care what I weigh. He cares that I love him, spend time him, pet him, brush him, cuddle him and tell him he’s special. Mark doesn’t care what I weigh. He cares that I love him, spend time him, pet him, brush him, cuddle him and tell him he’s special. The BCs don’t care what I weigh when I podcast. They care that I love them, spend time with them, have pet names for them, brush away their fears, cuddle them with my voice and tell them they’re special. I’m going to tell MYSELF that too. Laurie, what makes you special is NOT your body – except in that it holds your brain and heart.

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