Zombies!

Looking back through past posts, I realized that I went from saying “If you see me run, something’s probably chasing me,” to identifying myself as a runner. What changed? Well, I’m currently preparing for the zombie apocalypse.

I heard about Run for Your Lives, a 5K zombie obstacle course, and it sounded like a blast. And, I’ve never run a race before, so what better way to start than with one that has obstacles *and* zombies? I’ve probably taken complete leave of my senses, but it sounded like fun.

So I’ve been running to get ready for it. And I discovered the Zombies, Run! app. It’s an immersive cross between an audio-book and an exercise game. The zombie apocalypse has happened, and one of the important jobs in post-apocalyptic society is the runner. Scavenging for food, electronics and medical supplies, distracting zombies, running rescue missions. The game alternates with your playlist, so you get a snippet of story, a song, and another snippet of story. The story is well written, and the voice acting is good. It alternates between being hilarious and depressing (well, society did collapse and the dead are shambling around feeding on the flesh of the living). Using the app at night is particularly creepy.

It also has chases, where you randomly get chased by zombies. That tends to work best with GPS, and I only have an iPod, not an iPhone, so I haven’t experienced the joy of having the walking dead motivate me to run intervals, but it’s a really cool idea.

I may have to retire my, “If I’m running, look behind me to see what’s chasing me,” line. We’ll see if I want to keep running once I get tired of the game (yes, I’ve already run out of story missions…an update is apparently in the works, though). Either way, I’m having fun now.

Hey Runner Dude

This has been floating around Facebook. My reply will quote relevant bits, but you probably want to read the whole thing.

Hey, Fat Girl.

Yes, you. The one feigning to not see me when we cross paths on the running track. The one not even wearing sports gear, breathing heavy. You’re slow, you breathe hard and your efforts at moving forward make you cringe.

You sweat so much that your hair is all wet. You rarely stay for more than 20 minutes at a time, and you look exhausted when you leave to go back home. You never talk to anyone. I’ve got something I’d like to say to you.

You are awesome.

Hey, Runner Dude. Um, thanks, I guess. I mean, you said I’m awesome, and who isn’t flattered by that? Heck, as a fat runner, I’m happy not to have people giving me grief. Saying nice things about me is almost a bonus. But at the same time, for all your talk of reverence, a lot of what you say doesn’t sound like you think I’m all that awesome. Honestly, they don’t sound like you know much about me at all.

I mean, you know what you see. You know I’m fat. You see how I dress, how fast (well, really, how slow) I run, and how far I go, and who I talk to (or don’t talk to), but that’s it. The rest of my story, you create for yourself, making me into the archetypal fat girl on a Weight Loss Journey.

But we aren’t interchangeable, we fat girls who run. And the story you’re spinning isn’t my story.

You have already begun your transformation. You no longer accept this physical state of numbness and passivity…Each push forward leaves the former person you were in your wake, creating room for an improved version, one that is stronger, healthier and forward-looking, one who knows that anything is possible.

This is all inspiring-sounding stuff, but you don’t know any of it is true. In your head, I’m a before picture, working on her transformation. In your mind’s eye, I just crawled out of a donut-induced stupor, stood blinking in the unfamiliar sunlight, and started running.

But that’s not my story.

As it happens, I’m new to running, but not to yoga, or fencing, or dance. I love the feel of a good stretch, and the deep sense of relaxation that comes after a hard workout.

You assume that I’m starting a journey from sloth to fitness and health, but you don’t really know what path I’m on, or how far I’ve already gone. For me, running was not a resolution, but something that sounded like fun.

For that matter, you don’t know that running actually leads to health for me. You assume running is always a good thing, but people vary so much. For all you know, I could have untreated asthma or a heart condition that makes running until I’m out of breath a really foolish idea. Or maybe I’m cringing at every step because I’m running on a knee that’s been screwed up in a car accident, but no doctor will do a knee replacement until I lose some weight. Maybe I’m in good health overall, but I started running too much too soon, and I’m about to start paying for it with a stress fracture.

For that matter, you assume I’m unhealthy right now, but you don’t actually know that either. Body size isn’t blood pressure, or cholesterol, or illness, or injury. It’s just body size. For all you know, I could be in better health than the marathon runner half my size. You assume I’m not, because the media and the diet industry tell one story about people who look like me, and tell you not to believe us when we tell our own stories.

You cling shyly to the furthest corridor, sometimes making larger loops on the gravel ring by the track just so you’re not on it….If you’d look me in the eye only for an instant, you would notice the reverence and respect I have for you….The gifts you will receive from running will far exceed the gigantic effort it takes you to show up here, to face your fears and to bravely set yourself in motion, in front of others….You’re a hero to me. And, if you’d take off the blaring headphones and put your head up for more than a second or two, you would notice that the other runners you cross, the ones that probably make you feel so inadequate, stare in awe at your determination.

It’s nice of you to give them the benefit of the doubt, but just as you don’t know me, you don’t know that that’s why they’re staring. Maybe it is “Wow, she’s so determined.” But maybe it’s “Wow, who let her out of the house looking like that?”

You make it sound like any fear I might have of running in public is all in my head, like the running community would embrace me with open arms if I would just take my headphones off and look them in the eye. I’m guessing nobody has ever mooed at you while you were out running. Jillian Michaels doesn’t make millions of dollars telling people they’re lazy and pathetic because they look like you. Your body isn’t used as a symbol for laziness, or for greed, and there aren’t a whole lot of websites devoted to mocking people like you.

So, yes, I’m hesitant around the die-hard athletes. I’m wary of mockery or condescension not because of my own insecurities, but because of what I’ve observed.

And really, I’m not here to chit-chat anyway. Some of what you see as shyness and fear is just me being in my own head, alone with my thoughts and my body. And sometimes I just have a really good song to listen to.

You are a runner, and no one can take that away from you. You are relentlessly moving forward. You are stronger than even you think, and you are about to be amazed by what you can do.

If I’m a runner, talk to me like I’m a runner. Do you shower the other runners with platitudes about how inspiring they are? Or do you ask them about their training, their latest race, their lives off the track? I’m not here to inspire anybody, I’m just doing my thing. And really, the only reason a fat girl running is an inspiration is because of the assumption that I don’t, that I can’t, because I am weak, wrong, and broken. You’re inspired by a transformation from a bad body to a good, worthwhile body, but my body was never bad. It was always just my body. And running doesn’t make me a better person than someone who doesn’t run. I’m not running to fix myself; I was never broken.

If you do come talk to me, please, don’t tell me I’m an awesome inspiration who’s on a life-altering journey. Ask me how my workout’s going, or commiserate about blisters, or ask how the Nike Airmax shoes are working out for me. Don’t talk to me like I’m the archetypal good fat girl who exercises and deserves a pat on the back for it. I honestly don’t find that encouraging or supportive. But if you want to encourage me, talk to me, and *listen* to me long enough to know why I run. When you see Kelly and not “that fat girl running,” then we’ll talk.

Well, that went better than expected

So, I had my appointment with my new endo today, which I was more than a little worried about.

It went surprisingly well. No weight lecture whatsoever, even though I’ve gained 4 pounds in the past year (which the doctor said was “probably normal fluctuations.”)

My blood pressure was a tad bit higher than it had been the last time. Probably mostly the stress. The way being in a less privileged group interacts with having anxiety disorder is really unpleasant. I mean, I know I’m paranoid, but they kind of *are* out to get me. “They” in this case being the 60 billion dollar a year weight loss industry, most doctors to some extent, and even the freaking First Lady. So it’s difficult to use the techniques I would use to talk myself down from other worries, because this one is more grounded in reality.

On my patient consent form, I did cross out the “Pictures or video may be taken of me and used for educational purposes” line. I have no desire to be the headless fatty accompanying their Facebook post of some article on gastric bypass. (Odds are those are stock photos rather than their patients, but still, “education” covers a lot of ground that I may or may not be comfortable having my image used for.)

I hope this wasn’t a fluke, and that my follow-up in six months goes the same.

Update on Michael Salman’s Church

So, I failed at Googling this morning. There’s actually tons of info on this case and it’s not even a little like what was portrayed. (I know, Fox News. There’s a big surprise. I’m going to have a heart attack and die from “not surprised.”)

From the Phoenix City website (via The Christian Post):

Mr. Salman had regular gatherings of up to 80 people. He held services twice a week and collected a tithe at the services. The building that he held services in had a dais and chairs were aligned in a pew formation. He held himself out as a being a church through the media (Harvest Christian Church) and claimed a church status for tax exemption purposes on his property.

Due to the regular, reoccurring high vehicular traffic in this quiet residential neighborhood, neighbors repeatedly complained about the public assembly occurring on his property. Because of the multiple, reoccurring complaints, the City investigated the activity and discovered numerous building code violations primarily related to fire safety standards. Once apprised of these violations, the City could be held liable for not enforcing safety code requirements in the event anyone was injured on the premises. Prior to commencement of prosecution, Mr. Salman was asked, repeatedly, to comply with the safety codes of the City. He chose to ignore these requests for voluntary compliance prior to the commencement of any proceedings.

It’s also stated that he initially built without a proper permit and was cited for that way back in 2007. Also, houses of worship are allowed in any part of Phoenix, so he could at any time have complied with the building codes and had his church with no problems.

So, he built a church without a permit initially, lied his head off about the purpose of the building, ignored the heck out of zoning rules, and when he was finally arrested, cried religious persecution. Nice.

Another Freedom of Religion Post

Christians are a majority in the US. I, personally, have privilege in that I’m part of *the* mainstream religion in the country where I live. Our holidays are observed, our beliefs are not just treated as normal (where other religions are treated as weird or even suspect) but are privileged.

And yet, like pretty much every evangelical ever, I grew up feeling that I was persecuted for my faith. Partly it was because the expectation existed that Christians *would* be persecuted, and there’s a strong tendency in Christianity to think that if people are rude or unkind, it’s proof that you’re speaking God’s truth. Partly it was because I was bullied for other reasons, and it’s really hard to see yourself as a cultural insider when you’re the chick that guys ask out as a joke.

But I think a huge part of it is that my concepts of “fair” and “normal” were based on my own experiences. Which is kind of how privilege works. Advantages that you’ve always had seem perfectly normal, so losing them even momentarily seems horribly unfair. For example, when I was in college, I was shocked that Good Friday wasn’t a school holiday. All through elementary and high school (public school in rural PA), I’d always had an Easter vacation, usually with at least Friday and Monday off. So a lack of an Easter break was a shock to me. The college did, if I recall correctly, have a policy for religious absences. If you had a religious observance and let the professor know ahead of time, it didn’t count against your allotted number of absences.

So, my religious observances were treated perfectly *fairly* and *equally* with everyone else’s religious observances (and still privileged in that the break between semesters gives you Christmas off, even if it’s called a winter break instead of a Christmas break). But it was less preferential than I was used to, so it felt unfair.

That seems to me very similar to a situation I read about today, where a man was sentenced to 60 days in jail for numerous zoning and code violations related to a church on his property. Yes, I know, it’s Faux News. If I could find a reputable source, I’d cite it. They seem to be the only ones covering it, probably because it lines up conveniently with their slant (at least the way they tell it).

The gist of the situation is this. The city council determined that the 2000-square-foot building (a converted garage) in which he holds weekly Bible studies, is a church. On the building permits, it was called a gaming room. (Incidentally, this gaming room is almost twice the size of my house, which is actually quite a nice size for two people.) As a church, it violates the zoning rules for the area. It also doesn’t meet public accessibility standards, such as clearly marked exits and wheelchair ramps. The article frequently uses the phrase “in the privacy of his own home,” which creates the impression of police raiding a Bible study in this guy’s living room, not of a whole separate building used for a purpose other than what was approved.

The story is unclear as to whether he got his building permit under false pretenses or whether the purpose of the building just changed. It’s mentioned that the Bible study outgrew the living room, but not when that happened or whether the garage was converted specifically to house the Bible study.

He believes he’s being persecuted for his religious beliefs, and someone on a local forum (local to me, not to the incident) said “that wouldn’t happen with non-Christian religions.” (Park 51 apparently doesn’t ring a bell with them.)

To me, what’s actually happening is that he’s being expected to follow a set of rules and is upset that a special exception isn’t made because it’s a religious activity or because it occurs on his private property. It seems to me like there’s an assumption that “religious” means “exempt from rules” when it applies to Christianity. (I kind of doubt a member of any minority religion would expect to get away with running a house of worship in flagrant violation of sixty different zoning laws.)

I don’t know if the rules he’s being held to are fair or not, because I don’t know what all criteria were used to define his gathering as a church. To me, it would make sense to call it a church if it was open to the public or publicly advertised, or if an offering was taken. If it was by invitation, even in a very loose “bring your friends, tell your family, the more the merrier” sense, then it’s not a church. In the same way that I’m not necessarily running a restaurant if I have 47 people over to my house for dinner on a weekly basis. On the other hand, if I start charging, put a big sign out front, or take out an ad in the local paper, then it stops being a dinner party gone wild and starts being a public accommodation and a business.

He made the comment:

““If I had people coming to my home on a regular basis for poker night or Monday Night Football, it would be permitted. But when someone says to us we are not allowed to gather because of religious purposes – that is when you have discrimination.

Maybe, maybe not. The prosecutor said “Any other occupancy or use – business, commercial, assembly, church, etc. is expressly prohibited.” There’s no indication that it’s the religious nature of the activity that makes it a problem. (Though I’m curious what counts as “assembly.”)

I think the standard of “If I did X secular thing, it would be allowed, so I’m being discriminated against,” only works if “X secular thing” is actually similar to the religious activity.

I definitely think that if you get a building permit on false pretenses, said permit should be revoked.
Also, if this was open to the public, it falls under ADA rules anyway, so it makes sense for it to fall under local zoning rules too. Once you make something open to the public, you pretty much lose the “privacy of his own home” defense. Churches, after all, should be just as subject to public access and zoning rules as businesses and schools. People in wheelchairs have as much right to go to church as they do to go to the bank or the dentist.

On the other hand, two months in jail and a twelve-thousand-dollar fine seems incredibly steep for zoning violations, even sixty of them.

Doctors, Power, and Honesty

So, I have to make an appointment with a new endocrinologist, which I’m dreading the heck out of. (My previous endo finished her fellowship program and isn’t going to be at Hopkins anymore.)

With the previous endocrinologist, I pretty passively sat through a lot of weight lecturing because I really need someone to actually treat my thyroid issues. The previous one hadn’t, and I knew that if I got written off as the “non-compliant fat chick” there, I was pretty thoroughly screwed.

Since my current endo was extremely knowledgeable, polite, and helpful, I figured sitting through a yearly weight lecture and giving lip service to the idea of losing weight was a fair price to pay.

And, let’s be honest, I was freaking terrified. The power doctors have over you when you’re sick is a scary thing. I remember thinking, before I went to Hopkins, that if they blew me off like the last endocrinologist did, that my best option was probably to crash diet to lose 50 or 100 pounds, in the hopes that if I got down to a socially acceptable weight and was still showing hypo symptoms, someone would actually listen to me.

So, now that I need to make an appointment with the new fellow, I’m trying to figure out whether I’m brave enough to actually say I’m trying to approach my health from an HAES perspective, or if I’m going to just smile, nod, and get out with a prescription for the synthroid that keeps me functioning.

I may take a middle approach where I ask about research and studies without flat-out saying that I don’t plant to attempt weight loss under any circumstances. Because if you can show me a study where even half the participants lost a significant amount of weight, kept it off for five years, and didn’t experience worse health outcomes than the control group, I might be convinced to try *that* diet. To my knowledge, no such studies exist. But if I approach it from an angle of asking questions and being interested in evidence, I may be at least a little less likely to be blown off.

I’m also planning on going into the appointment dressed nicely and groomed as thoroughly as I would be for a job interview, make-up and all. It kind of is a job interview, where I’m applying for the position of “vaguely intelligent grown-up who’s allowed to make her own medical decisions.” And fat people, being supposedly stupid, lazy, and low-class, are generally disqualified from that position. So I’m going to shamelessly work on the markers that I can manipulate to be seen as a person worth helping.

I also have another medical thing going on. Polycystic ovarian syndrome, which seems to be preventing me from getting pregnant, despite a whole bunch of trying. (I kind of wish I’d known I had a condition that’s linked to infertility before I spent hundreds of dollars on BC pills that made me feel like shit, when we probably could’ve just used condoms and been more than fine.)

It’s been six months, which is the point at which you’re supposed to go to the doctor if you’re over 30. I’m thinking the first step will be to go back on metformin. I should also find out what other options are available if that doesn’t do it. I’m not keen on the idea of fertility drugs, since i really don’t want multiples. I also have my doubts that anyone would do IVF on someone with my BMI.

The one nice thing about the fertility stuff is that I don’t *need* to have a baby, not in the same way I *need* to have my hypothyroid managed. I want to have a baby, I will be very sad if I can’t have one, but my life will still be good. My awesome husband will still love me, I will still have a fantastic group of friends and a house full of furry critters. It would suck, but ultimately it would be okay.

That knowledge is a good thing, because it means that if any doctor I deal with in my quest to get knocked up is rude, or bullying, or manipulative, I’m completely free to walk away, in a way that I’m really not with my endocrinologist. I mean, I can walk away, obviously, but it’s not a risk I want to take unless I really have no choice.

It does make me wish doctors had a little more respect for their patients, particularly fat patients, and that they were a little more aware of the power they have over them.

Oh, it’s satire? I guess that makes it okay then.

Just got this lovely bit of bile via the Repeal Amendment One Facebook group. It’s a “Westboro Baptist Church” parody calling for a “Gluttony Amendment” with catchy slogans like “God Hates Fats.”

I’m sorry, I’m going to have to put on my official “Fat Advocate with No Sense of Humor” hat and declare this to be in really poor taste. Yes, yes, I get the parallels. But the thing is “You wouldn’t misuse the Bible against *that* group of people” only works when people aren’t doing that very thing on a continual basis. “A Modest Proposal” would not have been satire if people were already roasting and selling Irish babies.

Fat people *do* get death threats. They *do* have people saying “Thank God for diabetes and heart attacks.” There are attempts to legislate fat people out of existence by bullying us “for our own good” or taxing junk food or giving kids “diet” lunches.

And, predictably, when commenters said, “Um, WTF?” the “It’s a joke” card was played. Because saying that you’re joking magically removes any harmful effects that your words have. The pastor who advocated beating up your kids if they “act gay” fell back on that same tired defense. “Oh, I was joking.” Maybe that would’ve been more apparent if you were, you know, actually funny.