If you’re wondering why the cute dogs and cat picture was deleted, it’s because I meant to post it to my other blog. I keep this one for fat acceptance, feminism, and religious posts, while Puppy Goes Zoom is primarily for cute pictures and thoughts about dogs, including training, rescue, and breed advocacy.
Ragen Chastain posted this morning about Lindsey Averill. Lindsey is making a really cool fat acceptance documentary called Fattitude. She still needs about 20,000 to make her goal, and has a little over a month to do it.
And of course, some jackass (or group of jackasses) decided that the best and most mature thing they could do in response would be to steal her trailer and post it on YouTube, interspersed with 9/11-related hate speech. When she reported them, they tracked down her phone number, as well as her husband’s business phone and her family’s phone numbers. They’ve also been posting backer info online, but I think that’s been taken down.
The ringleader of this little crew of scumbags uses the handle GODBLESSADOLFHITLER on YouTube and Twitter. He also likes to steal people’s photographs from the I STAND campaign. Because nothing says, “I don’t have a life” like hanging out on YouTube and Twitter all day harassing and mocking people.
So, I’m working on publicizing the project as much as I can, trying to get positive comments, money, and suggestions for dealing with the asshole brigade sent her way.
So, a couple weeks ago, I spent a weekend with my brother, including watching him run a marathon. (That’s kind of his thing.) This was a very good thing, since I don’t see my brother nearly enough.
And yet, at the same time, being around him and his runner friends dredged up all sorts of insecurities about my own body and my own lackadaisical exercise routine. Most days, I can do pretty well at accepting myself where I am, but around him, not so much.
But then, something cool happened. I was sitting on the living room floor doing some stretches after a walk. A walk that I’d done longer than I probably should have because I was comparing myself to my marathon-running brother. I was doing what, for me, is a simple, basic, easy stretch. Sitting on the floor, one leg bent, touching the other leg. (It looks like this.) In yoga, it’s called a head to knee stretch, but my head definitely doesn’t touch my knee.
My brother walked in, saw me stretching, and said, “I wish I could do that.” And I let that sink in for a moment. I, the fat, easily winded, non-runner, doing something that is easy for me. And my thin, muscular, 3:30-marathon-running, hundred-mile-a-week brother *wishes* he could do. (I don’t even consider myself terribly flexible–there are a lot of yoga poses I used to do when I was practicing regularly that are beyond me now.)
Bodies are different. Different strengths, different weaknesses, different potential. Not better, not worse, just different. And I know this, but a reminder is always good, and almost always needed.
Now, I’m going to take a walk, and do some stretching.