30th anniversary of Shadow on a Tightrope

This post was actually supposed to be posted on November 8th, the actual 30th anniversary of the book, but I was in Cincinnati, Ohio at the National Women's Studies Association annual conference (which I will blog about in a day or two).  This is a part of a blog carnival being hosted in celebration of the anniversary.

As someone who has been aware of fat acceptance since my girlfriend at the time introduced me to Marilyn Wann's Fat!So? book around 1999, I thought I was pretty aware of a lot of the history of the movement.  I wouldn't say that I was an activist at the time, but it opened my mind to many possibilities to stop waging a war against my body that never started out as "normal."

When I began my masters degree program in 2009, I took the scholarly leap into fat studies with a paper I wrote for my feminist theory class.  I was fairly ignorant of a lot of things that happened in fat history until I started digging deeper and deeper in my classwork and my conference presentations.

In 2011, I presented a paper at the NWSA conference that talked about fat athleticism and dance, and connected writings by fat folks online to my Youtube dance video.  It prompted my culminating project that involved a more thorough search for published writing on fat physical activity as a whole, but more specifically on fat dance.  I found Shadow on a Tightrope while trying to get my hands on any published work that either referenced fat dance or had personal or creative work on what it was like to be a fat dancer.  I was thrilled as this seemed to be the first book that had published stories on fat women in motion (if someone finds earlier work, please let me know!).

My used and loved copy of the book

I still remember finding a battered used copy and the book and smiling when it arrived in the mail.  It looked like the previous owner probably loved it dearly.  Reading the stories of other fat bodies in motion, seeing how similar some of the stories are to the stories I hear about today's fat bodies in motion....this is a powerful work that gets at so many parts of fat existence!

If you've never read this timeless book, I highly recommend picking up a copy.  Aunt Lute has kept this book in print and so many of the stories are still very relevant to a variety of fat experiences (I also highly recommend picking up a copy at a feminist bookstore like Charis Books in Atlanta...there are very few of these treasured spaces left in the United States!).

Photo description: A black seat with a cream colored book on top of a white take-out box.  The book says "shadow on a tightrope" in a large font with a sketch of a fat female-appearing face, with "writings by women on fat oppression" underneath and the editors names at the bottom.

Back in physical therapy

My foot, my dumbbell

Photo description: brown carpet in the background, a pale short and wide foot with green nailpolish stepping on a grey dumbbell marked with "15" for its weight.

Because my new pain management doctor doesn't believe me that I'm taking three or more dance classes a week (and therefore meeting the current recommendations for physical activity according to the US government), I consented to going back to physical therapy, with the caveat that it had to be aquatic PT (I miss lap swimming, and my last pool adventure over the summer was a minor disaster pain-wise as the water pressure alone hurt).  Despite knowing he's being a fatphobic jerk, he's the first doctor that has taken me seriously about my desire to be on something other than opioids but realizing that opioids are the meds that are getting me through life right now.

A couple weeks ago, I had my PT evaluation with the new clinic (my old one doesn't have pool access).  I decided to wear my department t-shirt with the university logo and "KINESIOLOGY" in large letters, along with comfy drawstring shorts and my trusty sneakers.  PT evaluations almost always involve being touched in various ways to see how joints move (or don't move), to see what hurts with what kind of pressure, to test strengths, weaknesses, or imbalances, and sometimes end with heat, ice, or some other soothing modality (because if you're in need of PT, these evaluations almost always cause pain or other problems).

Since I've been through physical therapy quite a few times in my life (three times just for my spine fracture & vertebra slip), I have certain requirements that need to be met to deal with a PT.  First of all, my weight (if mentioned at all) needs to be addressed in a weight-neutral manner.  I have a history of disordered eating.  Yes, fatness is correlated with various biomechanical issues, but so is being tall, so is bone structure, so is age.  For the vast majority of people, weight is not modifiable.  The only thing dieting has ever done to me is make me unhealthy and bigger than had I just left my body alone.  Besides, people of all sizes get injured and disabled....so just treat me like a person with an injury or disability!

My second requirement is an acknowledgement of my desire to be active.  This is why I tend to go to appointments in my department's tshirt, a shirt from a triathlon or 5k, or a dance related shirt (like one of my Bellydance Superstars show shirts).  I want to be clear....physical activity isn't something that magically makes me a good fattie or some sort of supercrip.  I just have found that if I don't show proof of my prior activity status, I don't get treated seriously (I had a PT not believe that I was active at one point, despite my involvement in a dance troupe and dancing from 15-20 hours a week on top of my full time job).

Lastly, compassion.  The combination of my love of being in motion and being a people-pleasing introvert means I will push to far at least once...and I will struggle to the point of tears and panic to tell the PT or PTA that I've gone too far.  There are a lot of things that my body can do that I shouldn't do (like impinging my sciatic nerve), but I still do them in the attempt at getting praise and being treated as a "treatment compliant patient."  This is awful, both for me and the PT.  I'm slowly getting better at saying stop, but if I don't have therapist-client rapport yet....well, it's going to take a lot to actually be able to say it.  This is something that comes from trust (and works best when I have only a one or two person "team"....I only roleplay an extrovert!).

The therapy pool at the PT clinic

Photo description: shown at an angle, a small indoor pool, approximately ten feet by 10 feet with stairs and handrail leading in to the approximately four foot deep green-tinged water.  There is a mirror on the upper right side of the picture and wooden doors on the upper left side.  The tile around the pool is grey, the pool itself has beige, blue, and coral tiles in a geometric pattern.  A wooden bench is barely shown in the lower right side of the photo.

I agreed to biweekly aquatic physical therapy at the new clinic.  I gave it a good solid couple of weeks.  I really tried....but just being in the water hurt.  Walking hurt worse as the 98 degree Fahrenheit water loosened up my already hypermobile ligaments and tendons and ended up pinching nerves.  I wasn't even getting any benefit from the water exercise because I was either too strong, too flexible, or in too much pain.

Thankfully, this physical therapist is being awesome (not only does she meet my PT requirements that I put at the beginning of this post, but she's friendly and funny).  We're doing "land-based" PT including E-stim (like industrial TENS) and dry needling (like a cousin to acupuncture, but different in that it tries to derail nerve issues in trigger points).  We'll see what happens.  I really don't have the money to be doing the human guinea pig thing ($20 biweekly copays add up, especially with my other medical bills), but I would really like to be more functional in my life.  I'm still dubious as the increased pain is draining my energy, making school and work extremely difficult.  I guess what matters is that I'm trying, right?

Commuting while crippled

Minnesota MS 150 bike ride, June 2007

Photo description:  This photo was taken in 2007 at the MS 150 bike ride in Minnesota.  It was taken on a paved bike trail with grass and trees in the background.  I'm on a seafoam green road bike (skinny tires and curved handlebars).  I am visibly fat wearing spandex black cycling shorts and a jersey that says "Erik's Bike Shop" along with a white and teal helmet with a blonde ponytail visible.  I have dark sunglasses and a smile (although I didn't see the photographer...I was just having fun!).


The past few years as a graduate student, I've had a pretty constant gripe about the difficulties I've had with transportation to and from the campus.  I live within what would normally be considered "walking distance" from campus, which means that I live about 0.75 miles away from campus (which I could wheel if the hills wouldn't flip me backwards out of my chair).  As a kinesiologist (someone that studies human physical activity), I deal with ableism, both internalized and from a sociocultural standpoint.  It's compounded by being fat, with the standard response to being both fat and gimpy is "just get off your ass and you wouldn't be fat OR gimpy."  Yeah, right. *sarcasm*

Non-walking options are also prohibitive.  Handicap parking lot passes run about $325 for the school year (and does not guarantee a spot that is actually walking distance for me, or safe when I'm wheeling).  The city bus system doesn't have a spot nearby (as my home is considered close to campus).  The "special needs" bus requires a one hour window for a ride, which is not feasible with my schedule or my actual health care needs (and that's when it actually works....it is notorious for losing appointments).  I've asked my partner to drive me to campus, but it costs more gas (as he works from home usually) and it grates on my fierce need to be independent whenever possible.

I've been toying with options.  I've wanted a moped for about a decade now ever since I saw a Vespa scooter, but I would need a three-wheeled scooter because of my balance and my shortness.  I would also need money that I just don't have right now (the cheapest trike scooter I've seen is about $2,000 and the one I've been drooling at from Auto Moto with a roof is about $4,000).

Another option that I've wanted to pursue but can't afford is a recumbent trike.  They aren't that common, although recumbent exercise bikes in gyms and rehab facilities are.  This style of bike would allow me to bike without worrying about tipping over or dealing with legs that randomly give out on me.  Just like the moped, they are way out of my price range with most of them above $1,000 (and the good quality ones like the Catrike are at least $2,000).

My bronze crutch rigged to my red commuter

On Monday, I gave my old commuter bike a try.  It's a youth Giant brand mountain bike that I bought when I first moved to North Carolina (I nicknamed it the Red Dwarf Giant because of the small size).  I had a bike shop in 2008 swap the tires from trail tires (which are thick and nubby and make road riding more difficult) to commuter tires (that are thicker than road racing tires but smooth).  I tied my forearm crutch to the handlebars, which doesn't help with my balance and proprioception issues, but at least I have it to help me dismount and walk around campus.

Photo description:  Photo taken outdoors at a bike rack with a bush in the background.  It shows a bronze forearm crutch attached to the handlebars of a red commuter bike (hard to see because of the bright sunlight and bush in background).

How did it go?  Well, it was rough.  My partner helped me get the bike ready for me and we had to do some on-the-fly adjustments.  The seat had to be lowered significantly because I have to be able to reach the ground with my legs while on the seat....which means that I can't pedal in an efficient manner (and makes it much more difficult to pedal, especially up hills).  I'm also unable to stand up and pedal to tackle hills.  I was a sweaty mess for my meeting with my faculty adviser (thankfully my adviser is also a kinesiologist, so the "freshly exercised" look is pretty normal in our departmental offices).

Since the ride to and from campus wasn't too bad, I tried it again on Tuesday.  My rear end was sore because I wasn't wearing padded shorts and my seat is an original factory issued barely padded beast.  The seat position, while rectifies part of the problem with my balance, makes any incline hell on my body and my spine.  Being able to get to campus without using gas is great, but it hurts and burns energy that I still don't have.

This morning, I had to ask my partner to drive me to school.  Not only has biking blown through spoons that I sometimes don't have, it seems to have eaten the energy I need to get to work and to do my scholarly activities.  Just crawling out of bed, getting into the shower, getting dressed, and grabbing the easiest breakfast option left me feeling like I needed to go back to sleep because of extreme pain and fatigue.  I managed to get through my four hour shift, but I'm not sure if I can manage to get my reading done for class tomorrow, or if I'm going to be able to go to the intermediate tribaret bellydance class tonight.

The bike commuting experiment may continue, but we'll see what happens.  Money really has me stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Fat wheeling

I came across this gem of a meme recently on a Facebook group for disabled folks and was instantly livid.  The image shows an elderly white gentleman with round spectacles perched on his nose, a black hat, grey scarf, black coat, and white dress shirt with white text that reads "Back in my day wheelchairs were for disabled people, not fat people."

My first reaction was "wait, WHAT?"  I was led to this spiraling stream of thoughts, from "some people are disabled then become fat" to "why does it matter as long as the person is doing what they can do to help themselves have a life worth living?" 

There are several things going on with this meme, and the first hits on some very real issues with the current "obesity epidemic" panic.  The thought that fatness causes disability, or that fatness is disabling.  They are two separate things.  Some fat people have mobility problems, but so do some tall people.  Some people with mobility impairments become fat for a number of reasons, but many mobility impaired people's weights don't change.  Correlation does not equal causation.

The second is what gets me as a kinesiologist.  If a wheelchair helps a person get through their activities of daily living and maybe even gives them a chance to find joyful (and, dare I say, pain-free or pain-reduced) movement, then USE THE CHAIR!  If a cane allows a person to walk for longer distance, then USE THE CANE!  If your built environment is inaccessible to you with a manual wheelchair, the USE THE SCOOTER (or power chair or whatever else).  Being able to be part of a community, to be as independent as possible, and to be happy are all components of being a healthy person

There are so many people in the disability community that are so caught up in the obesi-panic or are trying to make an artificial delineation between who counts as abled and who counts as disabled....this needs to stop.  Now.  There are so many people in the supposed scientific community that are spouting fat stigma messages that are just contributing to the mental unwellness of fat people (and honestly, creating a panic within disability communities to try to keep disabled kids from getting The Fat).

My walking stick from the ren faire

So, glam up your wheels, glitz up your cane, bedazzle your walker, grab your carved walking stick (mine is in the photo to the right that I purchased four years ago at the Carolina Renaissance Festival....it's a medium brown wood with green leather wrapping, brass studs, and runes carved in it vertically with the runes for "strength," "balance," and "journey"...might not be in that exact order), and move your body as joyfully as possible.  If you don't believe me, see this post by Ragen of Dances With Fat about fat people in scooters.  Or her post entitled "Bad Fatties on Escalators--A Rant."

Stroll and roll happily :-)

Mourning the loss of my 1 rep maximum

A lonely 15lb dumbbell & my foot

For those of you non-weightlifter types, the title might not make a lot of sense.  For those of you that are, this post is probably not going to be what you're expecting.  I like bending words like this...it's probably one of the reasons why I'm working on my PhD!

Yesterday morning I had my first real physical therapy appointment post-surgery.  I don't know if it was fatigue, PMS, percoset, or just plain absentmindedness, but I asked my therapist if I would ever weightlift again.  She gave me a sad look and said "yeah, sure....high reps, low weights though" and said something about toning versus bulking.

I started crying.  So much of my identity as a person has been wrapped up in my strength.  I loved lifting heavy things and putting them back down in all sorts of ways.  It didn't matter if it was a dumbbell, a piece of furniture, someone's heavy box of books that they were moving, a tractor tire, or a big dog.  I absolutely love the feeling of my muscles getting tight and moving that heavy thing through space.

Being strong was also something that got me through a lot of hard times in my life.  I have had a lot of internalized fat phobia and ableism, but finding that my body type (both the fatness and the dwarfness) was particularly well-suited to lifting really heavy things made me feel incredible.  It showed me that athletic bodies come in a diverse array of shapes and sizes.  It gave me the emotional strength to deal with all the crap that fat folks deal with at the gym.  The gym was a place where I felt like I had control over what happened both to my body and to my life.

Now, I'm mourning the loss of ever finding my 1 rep maximum.  I used to be able to back squat at least 165 pounds (that was the highest I hit in Crossfit before I screwed up my knee....and I would have been able to go higher once I cleaned up my form).  I could deadlift around that much as well (I was being really careful with my DL form because of my already diagnosed spine issues....I was in chronic pain management at the time, including opioids, but was trying to be stubborn and "athlete-like").  I won't even be able to do a 5x5 program like Stronglifts (warning: not a HAES page) because my lifetime lifting maximum will likely be the weight of a standard barbell (45lbs).

The xray of my hardware, day of surgery

This new reality hurts.  I'm not sure if it would have been easier to deal with it had it not been part of a long drawn out process (more like an acute and severe injury that requires immediate surgery).  All of this "will I or won't I be able to do xyz" is exhausting.  It also sets up this expectation that I need to try and see if I can still do something, whether or not it hurts me....particularly because of my embodiment as both fat and disabled and how society thinks that if I can just "fix" being fat, I'll no longer be disabled.

There is a possibility that I may still be able to do heavy bench press work, as long as someone racks my weight (this also means I have to learn to ask for help and accept help more readily, something I struggle with).  I'm not sure if this is a ray of hope, or another weird place where I wonder if I'm disabled enough for para-athletics (I would hope that broken spine + fusion + nerve damage/SCI = eligible for IPC powerlifting, but IPC standards have very specific categories of impairment).  Many powerlifting organizations have bench-only competitions as part of their competitions, if I wanted to pursue them.  I don't know if that would make me happy or if I would just mourn squatting and deadlifting.

So for today, I mourn the loss of my 1 rep max that I will never actually experience...and it hurts.  And tomorrow?  Well, I go back to physical therapy and just keep trying to get stronger, no matter what kind of sport or physical activity outcome comes of it. 

Bodies are always changing, no matter what.  Age, injury, illness, hormones, environment, oppression, emotions....every body, everybody's bodies never stay the same.

Trusting in the system

Pic taken in 2009 by Dave Stagner

A "comrade in spine crap" of mine started going to the same orthopedic clinic that I've been going to for pain management.  I've had a pretty decent relationship with my nurse practitioner there, so he started seeing her as well.  I saw her in the beginning of August, and he saw her towards the end of the month.  He found out that she was leaving at the end of the month, and I think my jaw hit the floor.

I felt like I'd hit the jackpot with this person.  I was able to be frank with her about symptoms and pain, to express my Health At Every Size standpoint, to let her know that I was a bit of a medical geek and had done a lot of research about my various spinal conditions as well as my birth defect-related minefield.  When I was trying to figure out if I should pursue spinal fusion, she gave me some markers of impairment that she thought were appropriate signals to revisit surgery.

So I found out from my friend that my NP left at the end of August, and that she didn't tell me at the appointment.  My first feeling was betrayal, then mourning, then panic.  I take narcotic pain medications and muscle relaxers daily (up to four times a day depending on the medication & how much pain I'm able to tolerate).  She understood that I usually refused to medicate my pain enough because of the side effect problems (want to try to do deep sociological analytic work while on narcotics?  For me, it's extremely difficult).  She also didn't treat me poorly because of my deep understanding of my various medical conditions.

You see, when your physiology is complex enough that general practitioners won't see you (seriously...my university's student health center has told me this recently, which makes life more difficult because my insurance requires me to use them for "general health" needs), there can be this tendency to latch on to any professional that doesn't treat you like a freak of nature.  I latched on to her fiercely.

Now?  I'm feeling lost.

I wouldn't even be seeing her for another month or two because of my prescription refills and our mutual understanding that I might just get slowly worse.  We both knew that I'm losing function and feeling.  We both knew that there was no literature about spinal fusion success in people with pituitary abnormalities, and that I wasn't willing to be a case study (well, if someone would put me as second author maybe...just kidding).  She was forthright but gentle, and had one of those faces that always seemed to tell me that life sometimes sucks but it's worth the fight.

She never told me to quit school.  She never told me to quit my job.  She told me to keep being as active as I could.  She affirmed my athletic identity.  She did tell me to quit powerlifting (I didn't initially listen...I'm stubborn when it comes to something I love).

Now I have to either trust whoever takes over her position or find a new clinic.  I have to trust that, whichever option I chose, the provider will treat me with respect, will respect my knowledge of my physiology, and that will understand that my pleasant face is many times just a mask hiding pain and uncertainty.  I have to hope that I won't be shamed for my fat and that my broken spine won't be pinned on my size.  I have to hope that the person knows that sometimes my medication noncompliance is due to my scholarly work that I refuse to give up even though it becomes more difficult, both because I'm a doctoral student instead of a masters student and because the pain seems harder & harder to manage.

I have to trust in the American medical system to help make it ok, and I'm petrified.

Stairs versus elevator: Round 1...fight!

Ableist to say the least, moreso with the taped Braille

I was on Twitter and came across a tweet from Amanda at Fat Body Politics that really got my brain going.  The tweet had this photo of an elevator button panel (the photo on the right).  This photo has been going around my Facebook feed between my physical activity & public health scholar friends and my body size & dis/ability activist friends, with some varied results.

Many of my public health & physical activity-minded friends talk about how every day physical activity needs to be encouraged, like taking the stairs instead of using the elevator (also called "non exercise activity thermogenesis" or NEAT for short).  Sounds pretty benign huh?  What this seems to lead to is architecture that places stairs in a very easy to find and access places and the elevator in an inconvenient (many times hidden) place.  The other mode of thinking with this style of architecture is to keep the elevator more clear for folks who need it (people with mobility impairment or people hauling carts of equipment), but it can backfire.

So what's wrong?  Well, I'll use my personal experience as an example.  On days that I use a cane (or when my nerve damage wasn't as severe, on the days that I could manage without a mobility aid), I have to make a bunch of choices when I need to get to a different floor of a building (the same decisions happen with entering a building that has stairs, just sub "elevator" with "ramp").

Can I safely use stairs today?  Am I feeling my legs well enough to not trip going up the stairs or fall down the stairs?  Will taking stairs that are closer to my destination use more spoons than trying to find the elevator that's tucked away, nowhere near my current or final destination?  Will taking the stairs lead to pain that makes me unable to work, do scholarly activities, or even work out (and do more efficient physical activity) later in the day?  Which option will cause me less social grief as a fat person (because my body is seen as proof that I am sedentary simply because of its size)?

Not all disabilities are visible.  Some disabilities wax and wane in their visibility (see my post PassOut for an example).  A lot of invisible disabilities and illnesses involve a huge energy management component, and elevator usage can help that person live a more fulfilling life....when we aren't barraged with messages that tell us that we're horrible people for using the elevator for a "short distance" or that we're fat/out of shape/sick/disabled because we don't use the stairs for whatever reason.

As a doctoral student in kinesiology, I would love it if people were more active.  It's what I study.  It's something I'm passionate about.  But...making healthist remarks about elevator usage doesn't help people become less sedentary.  It's shaming and shame doesn't help people become healthier and happier people.  Shame creates stress and the biomedical literature shows over and over again that long-term stressors (like shame, bigotry, and structural inequality) create less healthy people.

So instead of creating more problems in people's lives over whether or not taking the stairs is a part of their healthy life, how about this.  We make sure that both modes of transportation are clearly marked in a way that encourages people to listen to their bodies, keeps them safe, and keeps them happier in the long run.

PCA/ACA Fat Studies Call for Papers (CFP)

My STANDard poster

Since some of my scholarly work is in sociology of the body & sociology of physical activity, my work frequently discusses fatness.  So, I'm reposting this CFP for the Popular Culture Association & America Culture Association conference to put the word out for any interested folks:

-------------------------------

(please circulate far & wide)

PCA/ACA Fat Studies 2013 Call for Papers

Fat Studies is becoming an interdisciplinary, cross-disciplinary field of study that confronts and critiques cultural constraints against notions of “fatness” and “the fat body”; explores fat bodies as they live in, are shaped by, and remake the world; and creates paradigms for the development of fat acceptance or celebration within mass culture. Fat Studies uses body size as the starting part for a wide-ranging theorization and explication of how societies and cultures, past and present, have conceptualized all bodies and the political/cultural meanings ascribed to every body. Fat Studies reminds us that all bodies are inscribed with the fears and hopes of the particular culture they reside in, and these emotions often are mislabeled as objective “facts” of health and biology. More importantly, perhaps, Fat Studies insists on the recognition that fat identity can be as fundamental and world-shaping as other identity constructs analyzed within the academy and represented in media.

Please join us in Washington, DC from March 27-30, 2013 for the PCA/ACA National Conference at the Washington Marriott in Wardman Park. Presenters must become members of the Popular Culture Association. Find more information on the conference and organization at http://pcaaca.org/conference/national.php.

The deadline for online submission of presentations is November 30, 2012. Please do not email your abstract to either of the Fat Studies Area Chairs; we will only accept submissions entered into the PCA/ACA online database. You can find instructions here: http://pcaaca.org/areas/areas.php. In short, under “Fat Studies,” enter the name of your presentation, an abstract, and a short bio. We welcome papers and performances from academics, researchers, intellectuals, activists, and artists, in any field of study, and at any stage in their career.

All submissions are welcome, but please use the information above to ensure your proposal fits within the academic and political scopes of Fat Studies. Please also be mindful that Fat Studies is a political project and not merely an umbrella term for all discussions of larger bodies. Also, we encourage submitters to rethink using words like “obesity” and “overweight” in their presentations unless they are used ironically, within quotes, or accompanied by a political analysis.

Topics may include but are not limited to:
• representations of fat people in literature, film, music, nonfiction, and the visual arts
• cross-cultural or global constructions of fatness and fat bodies
• cultural, historical, inter/intrapersonal, or philosophical meanings of fat and fat bodies
• the geography and lived experience of fatness and fat bodies
• portrayals of fat individuals and groups in news, media, magazines
• fatness as a social or political identity
• fat acceptance, activism, and/or pride movements and tactics
• approaches to fat and body image in philosophy, psychology, religion, sociology
• fat children in literature, media, and/or pedagogy
• fat as it intersects with race, ethnicity, class, religion, ability, gender, and/or sexuality
• history and/or critique of diet books and scams
• functions of fatphobia or fat oppression in economic and political systems

Special Topic Session: For the 2013 Conference, we are inviting proposals for papers and performances for a joint session (1 to 2 panels) with the Fashion, Style, Appearance, Consumption & Design and Fat Studies areas. Possible topics include the intersections between body size, shape, and weight and one’s experiences as a fashion consumer, the ways fashion as an industry shapes the discourse around weight (“plus-size,” “women’s”, “husky,” “King-Size”, and “Big and Tall”) and fashion as a space for reclaiming the fat body through accentuating and adorning it (fatshion). Other topics could include the study of sales and the financial success of the plus-size, women’s, King-Size, husky, and Big and Tall market that have spawned a whole array of specialty stores dedicated to these consumers. Also the influence of fashion design and the evolution of the types of garments manufactured for these consumers to wear could also be suggested. Submit your online proposal for this Joint Session only one time to either the Fashion Area or the Fat Studies Area.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact one or both Fat Studies Co-Chairs:

* Julia McCrossin (jmccross@gwmail.gwu.edu)
* Lesleigh Owen (lesleigh.owen@gmail.com).

We look forward to hearing from you!

On being an academic with disabilities

A sign on one of the elevators on campus

Since the fall semester just started, I've been reflecting on how my life might change going from working on my masters degree to working on my PhD.  I recently read an article from Academe Online entitled "Chronic Illness and the Academic Career" which has made me really think about the consequences of being pretty frank about my spine mess along with the rest of my interesting physiological issues.  I'm pretty frank about the fact that I will be taking six credits a semester (baseline full-time for grad school) because of pain & related issues.  Life for me runs on what some folks have dubbed "crip time."

Running on crip time can impact my academic life in a number of ways, but for me is most apparent in my writing. Just like Sharon from After Gadget, writing takes extra time because of the dark miasma that is chronic illness...particularly writing that is coherent.  Like her, I usually have several blog posts percolating, making sure that my pain or pain-med addled brain (the usual dichotomy of my existence lately) has made something that makes sense to the general populace, doesn't ramble or derail too badly, and I'm willing to post to everyone that might see it.

Scholarly work is like these blog posts in this respect...they need a lot of TLC because sometimes a sentence or a paragraph will make sense to me when I write it, but make absolutely no sense later.  Most of my papers are proofread by friends (as one friend so lovingly stated, "I can see where you went from 'I know Science!' to 'yay pain meds'").  I cherish my scholarly community for our collective proofreading, and have traded drafts of papers with folks across the planet

I'm also very open about the fact that the job market is pretty dismal for tenure-track professor positions, and with my medical needs (both spine-related and birth defect-related) I absolutely cannot live without health insurance...which means being open to working as an administrator within the university setting.  This means I cannot take adjunct positions until a tenure-track position comes available as adjuncting is much like being an independent contractor.  If I were healthy and not disabled, paying for health insurance out-of-pocket wouldn't be a big deal....but that's not how my life is.

Honestly, I wonder how much of this openness comes from an internalized need (due to internalized ableism) to justify my use of adaptive aids like my cane,  wheelchair, use of the elevator, or my parking placard.  I wonder how much of it is related to the current "war on obesity" and how that impacts the myth that all fat people become disabled by their fat (for an awesome post on this, check out this post entitled "Fat People on Scooters" from Ragen Chastain's Dances With Fat).  Essentially, bodies are not equipment (which is why the photo I posted bothers me so much.  This is posted on an elevator on campus) although sometimes my body needs equipment to live life to its full potential.

This post was pretty rambly as I tried to wrap it up before my first day helping out as a TA for an undergraduate course my advisor is teaching.  So I'll leave you with this YouTube video entitled "Shit academics say about access:"

Wheels!

Bela perched on my back circa 2009

So I was having a lazy day off yesterday (I'm on a work rotation that has me working 4 days most of the time), so I decided to have a lazy day where I could sleep in, snuggle with my cats, and lounge around reading a book for fun (this book if you're curious).  UPS knocks on the door, and voila!  A huge Invacare box!

I open it up and begin to unpack.  Wheels wrapped in clingwrap.  Wheel locks packed in bubble wrap.  Chair cushioned with a variety of packing materials.  No cushion, but I wasn't sure if the seller would remember the question I posted on the previous listing on the chair.  A bit of a surprise that the chair is a dark blue and not black like it looked online.  Boxes moved out of my kitchen and I start to put the chair together (since it's a rigid frame, this isn't a big deal at all).

And...it fits.  Since the chair is two inches wider than the transport chair I have, it feels different to roll it.  The center of gravity is in a place where I could actually use it to dance and do active things in (you know, other than rolling around campus and for shopping).  I did my first wheelie and squeed.  I'm wondering if it's a little too wide, but upon further inspection it looks like there may be a little play in the axles to get the wheels closer to the seat.  I'm going to get it outfitted with side guards that keep clothing away from spokes, so when I talk to the medical equipment supply place I'll ask them about the axle.

Now I just have to get someone to help me get it out of my house and into my car (it may only be 20 pounds, but my apartment is inaccessible and I try to not carry things up or down the stairs for fear of falling or making the spine angry).  I also need to get the transport chair out of my car and either into my house or sold.  I really don't forsee needing it or wanting to use it any longer as it's mostly impractical for my lifestyle.

I'm glad that it fits my dimensions pretty darn well.  The seat back is at a height where it's high enough to support my lower back but low enough to not impede movement.  The distance between the seat and footplate is damn near perfect since I don't need a calf strap (and this will make grocery shopping easier).  I really couldn't be happier with the chair....although I do need to admit that the seat width thing has been a concern.

The transport chair is a bit snug, and I remember the medical supply store telling me that you want a chair that's as narrow as possible to put less strain on your shoulders (as shoulders aren't designed for that kind of consistent stress).  I've been worrying about the new chair, wondering if two inches wider will be the ticket with the new chair.  I had diet culture crap circulating in my head because of it, even though I know that diets don't work and generally end up in making a person bigger in the long term (plus making a less healthy body).  I've seen this in my own body.  Not only am I fighting myself, but I'm fighting a culture that thinks that if I would just become thinner, I would become abled.  Before I became involved in the Health At Every Size movement, I actually tried.  I was at my lowest adult weight but still having pain and nerve issues.  I was also less muscular and less healthy, both physically and mentally.

Hopefully having a properly fitting chair will help me find joy in a body that sometimes doesn't feel joyful.  If I can find ways to dance and move that don't put me in tears or cause me to injure myself, I think I win.