The Next Hundred Pounds

DEFENDING OPERA, DEFENDING THE FAT

Over at the Wolf Trap Opera blog, blogger Kim recently posted about a disturbing trend in which some opera companies are writing weigh-in clauses into their contracts: if a singer gains a certain amount of weight before the contract begins, he or she may be fired. This is one outcome of another disturbing trend in opera (and in society at large), of valuing people who fit into a narrowly defined ideal of beauty over others. This ideal, of course, excludes fat people.

It may seem hypocritical of me, engaged in major weight loss, to find fault with this kind of thinking. I have chosen to lose weight for many reasons. A chance at improving my singing career is certainly one of them, but it is hardly the primary reason; in fact, it’s more like a fringe benefit. After all, I’ve been “singing fat” for many years now.

I posted a comment saying that opera should be defended against the sort of homogenization and plasticization that Hollywood has fallen prey to. (Look at the stars of yesteryear; while there were certainly very many “beautiful people”, there were just as many who weren’t physically gorgeous, but were all the more interesting because of it: Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn, just to name two).

An anonymous poster who very much wishes she could sing responded with a very typical anti-fat response: the world is image-conscious, that’s just the way it is, you’re lucky to be able to sing so quit whining and hit the gym. She reiterated these sentiments in a second post.

There is just so much logically wrong with this that it’s hard to know where to begin, and I’m hesitant to address it in the Wolf Trap blog because I’m not sure Kim wants this kind of back-and-forth which may not be on topic for her blog. However, as a singer, a lifelong fatty, and a person who is fighting to lose weight, I feel I have to respond to this kind of thinking.

First, I’d like to say to Anon: you and I share the same wish! I certainly wish that all I had to do to be able to sing was go to the gym every day! Boy, that would be a lot easier (and cheaper!) than spending so much time training my voice, studying languages, translating scores, researching roles, staying on top of my agent, traveling for auditions, networking, job hunting, and oh yes --- going to the gym seven days a week on top of all that. Yes, that would be an excellent trade.

Secondly, I’d like to say that as a professional, managed, working singer who has had a career as a fat person for many years; and as someone who in fact travels the country educating young singers about how to get into the business; I have a pretty good handle on what the realities of that business are. I know all about how image conscious it is. The opinion of the general director whom Anon quoted is not news to me.

Thirdly, while I am a firm believer in dealing with the reality that is, attempting to change an unfair or undesireable reality is not mutually exclusive. We are not constrained to “accept the world we live in and move on”. If that advice were to be universally accepted, there would be no progress; certainly society would be still mired in the Dark Ages. And while we’re on the subject, please do note (an acknowledgement would be nice, but is unhoped for) that criticism of a situation does not necessarily equal “whining and crying”. It’s always interesting to me that the moment someone protests against bigotry against fat people, however reasonable their argument, they are accused of whining.

Fifth, while I don’t dispute that the bottom line for weight loss is fewer calories, more exercise, successful long term weight loss is in reality a great deal more complicated, involving many psychological and physical factors that differ according to the individual. The attempt to reduce such a complicated process to a simple formula indicates a lack of understanding and certainly a lack of empathy. Discipline or the lack thereof has very little to do with successful weight loss. The fact that I can apply discipline in one area of my life does not mean that I can apply it equally successfully in another. If that were truly possible, then I could do anything I set my mind to; but the reality is that every human being has certain limitations. Anon wishes she could sing. Injury or deformity notwithstanding, there is no physical reason why she couldn’t learn to sing. Perhaps she merely lacks the discipline.

Sixth, Anon made an enormous and unfounded assumption that my criticism of the opera world’s emerging image consciousness somehow equals making excuses for being fat. My argument is that human beings come in all shapes, sizes, and colors; and people who are not “beautiful” fall in love and have drama in their lives and are interesting, exciting, and accomplished just like beautiful people are. I believe, and wish that, art would continue to reflect this. This is not excuse-making; nor is it whining. It is a valid opinion. I have no interest in homogeneity; and as an artist, I don’t think it has a place in the kind of art I personally am interested in hearing, seeing, and making.

Seventh, whether or not I am “lucky” and “blessed” to be able to sing has no bearing on this argument. I work very hard for my career and the fact that I am by nature inclined towards this work does not make up for any inequities that might exist in the business.

Nor does the fact that Anon wishes she could sing and thinks that daily trips to the gym are an easy trade for a career have any bearing on the argument. It might be an easy trade for her, but it might be a very difficult one for someone else. Further, it’s fallacious, because in fact there are a very great many more factors that go into making a successful singing career than merely being attractive.

It probably will do no good to address these issues point by point; fat is a hot-button issue for many people and once they hear the dread word mentioned, it’s very difficult to get them to think about it and discuss it outside the box. The assumptions start to pile up and pretty soon there’s a wall no logic can penetrate. Still, I feel compelled to try. The fact that I am successfully losing a great deal of weight doesn’t change the years I have spent as a fat person, dealing with the peculiar forms of bigotry directed towards the fat. I will always see that, and I hope I will always struggle against it. I also hope I will always defend my beloved art form against what I see as the boring, mundane, and conventional.

BODY DYSMORPHIA

One hears a lot of talk these days about body dysmorphia, a psychiatric disorder in which the sufferer is fixated on a real (usually minor) or imagined physical defect to the point where his or her social interactions are severely affected. However the term is often used to describe a sort of general, negatively inaccurate view of one’s body, specifically, weight. The latter definition is frequently used by women, especially among people who suffer from eating disorders, who are struggling to accept themselves as beautiful and worthy as they are. They feel that society’s image of beauty is so distorted and so narrowly defined, and many of them have, for years, tried to force themselves into that tight little mold, sometimes doing themselves a great deal of damage in the process.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I have body dysmorphia according to either definition, but I am discovering in myself an odd inability to reconcile what I really look like, especially compared to other people.  As previously mentioned, sometimes when we’re walking, I’ll ask my husband whether a woman we see is bigger or smaller than me. I can’t tell. I am so accustomed, from years of practice, to simply assuming that I am the biggest woman in the room. Now, even as I watch the numbers on the scale and on my clothing dwindle, my brain still thinks I’m fat.

That’s not to say I don’t like how I look now, or don’t recognize the bone structure emerging under my skin. But when I look in the mirror, I still see a fat person. This picture on the left is from my opera workshop this weekend, and prompted a friend to tell me, “You look skinny!”. I've also recently heard “You’re hardly recognizable!”. One person told me, “You finally have a shape.”  I revel in these compliments, but inside I wonder … when will I really be slender, and will I recognize when I am? How will I know when enough is enough? I don’t really have a goal weight. There are numbers that sound good to me, but I know better than to fixate on a silly number --- my body will tell me when it’s time. I just don’t know if my mind will hear it.

I know that I want to be in a lot better shape than I am now, and I am so happy to be training again. When I look around the gym, I notice that my trainer is in better shape than anyone else there. She has a great body, muscular and yet still very feminine. I don’t think I could ever get myself to look like her, or if I’d even want to take it that far, but I would like to see how far I could go. I’d be happy to get rid of all the jiggly bits (except the ones that are supposed to be there).

My dear friend and diet coach is here for a visit; it’s our mutual vacation. Yesterday we spent an afternoon lounging at the Oasis, drinking margaritas and soaking up the beautiful view of the lake. We ate chips and guacamole and queso for dinner, and then we came home and did a good two-hour walk. I did the same thing to her I do to my husband, pointing out women and making her tell me whether they were bigger or smaller than me. She pointed out a woman who, unprompted, I would have said was “average”, not exactly slender but not fat, either. That woman, she said, is the same size you are.

Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be “average”.

CRUNCH TIME!

It’s crunch time, folks, and I mean that both figuratively and literally. The opera workshop which I am administering and directing is in its final week, with two performances next weekend. If you’re in the neighborhood, please come! It’s free, and there are two completely different programs, one on Saturday, July 26 at 1 p.m., and the other on Sunday, July 27 at 3. Both are in Jones Hall in the Ragsdale Center, at St. Edward’s University in Austin.

Also, on Monday I get to start training again! It seems like it’s been forever, and I confess to being a bit apprehensive. I’m sure I’ll be back to square one (if not further) as far as strength goes, and I do still have to be careful. But I’m excited to get back to my training schedule.

As for the weight loss, I’m back where I was two weeks ago, which is down from the Horrid Six Pound Travel Gain, but two above my lowest point this month. July is turning out to be a lot like March in that regard; March was the six-month mark and a big struggle. The scale was all over the place and I only lost four pounds.

Although it’s frustrating not to keep losing at the steady pace, or lose as much as I’d like as quickly as I’d like, I am not particularly upset about this rough spot. Perhaps it’s because I’m so busy; but I rather think it’s because I’ve been here before and now recognize it as merely a rough patch, a natural setback in the overall process which will be remedied soon if I just keep eating right and exercising. (Which I am doing --- over two hours on the trail today, with a wildlife count of 7 deer including two bucks and one fawn; four bunnies; and an armadillo).

It also helps to keep perspective. Although I haven’t lost more, I could swear my body looks different. I’ve been doing some experimental shopping when possible, meaning that I try on a lot of stuff to see what sizes and styles fit the new me. It’s sometimes surprising, and frequently hard not to buy everything that fits (or almost fits) just because the number on the tag is, for me, freakishly low. (I operated on that system for many years, buying pieces because they were the right size and fit rather than because I really liked them. Fat people do that, sometimes. You never know if you’ll luck into the perfect thing or even the acceptable thing in your size; so you tend to grab whatever will more or less do). I’m trying to be more selective, now. However, I did manage to come home from the last trip with several goodies and a nice little ego boost.

Audition season is coming, and I’m fantasizing about a fabulous dress (not to mention making all the general directors who haven’t seen me for 110-plus pounds doing a doubletake). But first, I have to live through all the crunches. Literal and figurative.

SINGIN' IN THE RAIN

Someone asked me a while back whether I thought my friends would treat me differently once I’d lost weight. I immediately said no; my friends are cool. I don’t expect them to think of me any differently. They liked me fat; why shouldn’t they like me slender? I am the same person; I just look different. One of my voice students who hadn’t had a lesson in months came in the other day. She said casually, “Wow, you look great. Of course, I thought you looked great before, too.” Happily, this is my husband’s attitude as well. The chorus of support has been overwhelming, not to mention very much instrumental in my success.

Perhaps because I’ve made such a public spectacle of my weight loss journey, however, a few folks have felt free to make some odd little comments. I honestly don’t think they mean to be rude; they may even think they 're helpful --- like the ones who have feel compelled to warn me about how haaaaaarrrrrrd it is to keep that weight off (after all, they weren’t successful in doing so, after their diets ended);   someone even remarked on how unbelievably fat I was before (not in so many words, but that was the gist).

I try to take such comments in the spirit in which they seem to be intended, which I honestly don't feel to be malice. There may be a little subconscious envy at work there;  or as my friend H.T. said, people who failed to keep the weight off might feel on some level that my own weight loss somehow invalidates them; but most likely, people just don’t quite know what to say beyond “Congratulations.”

For the record, “congratulations” is quite sufficient. Comments about how fat I used to be, on the other hand, are not welcome, appropriate, or necessary. Honestly, would you go up to a friend who’d had plastic surgery and say, “Thank God you finally got that nose job; it really needed some work!” ?  Would you say to a couple who’s finally been successful in getting pregnant, “Congratulations! I hope you can carry it to term --- statistics are against you.”?  "Wow, you were really huge! You look so much better now!" is exactly the same sort of comment.  If you're the type of person who goes around saying such things, I can promise you that however people respond to your face, they are not saying nice things about you once the doorknob grazes your backside.

If you want to talk to me about diets,  that’s fine --- but just so you know, I am not dieting. I eat what I want to eat, though admittedly in smaller portions than I did before, but believe me, if I want a cheeseburger, I am going to have a cheeseburger. The next day, I will probably eat nothing but yogurt and salads, but I happen to like yogurt and salads, so there is no deprivation. The difference between what I am doing and a diet is that a diet is temporary and involves eating certain prescribed things and banning others. And this does not work. It’s been proven over and over again.

I consider that I have made a lifestyle change. It is not always easy. Sometimes I would like nothing better than to return to my old habits, even just for a couple of hours. Sometimes I get really tired of having to be vigilant. Other days, food and eating are the last things on my mind. I’m much more concerned about getting in an extra workout than a slice of pie. That’s what feels good to me now, most of the time. I acknowledge that I will have to be on guard against my old habits for the rest of my life. I’m okay with that.

Besides, it’s a little early to start raining on my parade. I am far from being done losing weight. Heck, if you believe those BMI charts, I still qualify as “obese”.   One hundred pounds was just a milestone, although it was an important one, and one I am not through celebrating, thank you very much.

I didn’t let a plateau derail me; neither the difficulty of eating well while traveling nor nearly nine months of hard work nor a freaking broken wrist have managed to wrench me off this path I have set for myself. I’ve got my wellies on and my giant industrial strength golf umbrella in hand, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be discouraged by a little rain.

OMG! SHE'S GOT THE FAT!

My friend Ro recently had a health scare. She’s fine now, thank goodness.

Ro’s a pretty active woman. She does marathons to raise money for cancer and stuff. She scuba dives in a custom made hot pink wetsuit. She’s also heavy. Once upon a time, we had a plot to start an outdoor adventure travel company called Fat Girls Don’t Hike. (We conceived this plot while hiking Walnut Canyon in Arizona). Like me, Ro’s been on every diet there is. Like me, she knows a lot about diet and nutrition and exercise. Like me, she’s lost lots of weight over the years, and she’s put it back on.  And like me, and most fat people out there, Ro has had some bad experiences with medical personnel.

See, people make all sorts of weird assumptions about fat people based on nothing other than their fatness. Doctors --- not all of them, but some ---  can be some of the absolute worst about this. In Ro’s most recent experience, a doctor she had never seen before appeared in her hospital room, just a few hours after her procedure, when she was still hopped up on all kinds of painkillers, and without adieu began to lecture her about weight loss. He assumed that she was making no efforts. He assumed that this was all big news to her and all he had to do was bring the gospel to the heathen, and she would SEE THE LIGHT, HALLELUJAH AMEN. When she told him what her goal weight was, he snapped at her that “she’d never make it.” And that’s when mild-mannered Ro lost it and gave Dr. Dumbass a snappy rundown of her program details and current progress (15 pounds down).

Ro’s experience, unfortunately, is not at all uncommon for fat people. It is unbelievably unhelpful, and in fact quite damaging, because it drives fat people away from health care and sometimes even self care instead of towards it. Ro handled it well that time (she claims it’s because she was wasted on Benadryl), but for future occurrences when no chemical courage is coursing through the veins or when you’re just caught off guard, I’ve crafted a handy-dandy response card. Print some out, put’em in your wallet, and the next time someone makes stupid assumptions about you based on your fat, just tell them, “Hold that thought,” hand them a card, and say reassuringly, “Let me save you some trouble, dear”.

The card reads:

Hi there! Let's get a few things straight shall we?

1. I am, in fact, perfectly aware that I have THE FAT.
2. I've had it for a long time and I know alllllll about it.
3. I am, in fact, perfectly aware that THE FAT can cause health problems, including but not limited to heart issues, diabetes, joint trouble, and insanity due to incessant experience dealing with possibly well-meaning but clueless people who think they have to inform me that I have THE FAT and all it entails.
4. I probably know more about nutrition, exercise, and dieting than you do, because I've done it all before. Often.
5. The fact that I have THE FAT should not be taken as an indication that I do not exercise or eat properly.
6. I assure you that I am aware of the existence of gastric bypass and lap band surgery. The fact that I have THE FAT does not mean that these are options I am interested in, should have, or want to hear about.
7. This and any future interactions will go so much better for all concerned if you just keep in mind that, despite having THE FAT, I am an intelligent, funny, talented, accomplished, disciplined, hard-working person with plenty of friends, a busy fulfilling life, and cute clothes.
8. While you're at it, please do keep in mind that the fact that I have THE FAT is not to be taken as an indication of moral failing. It is a physical characteristic, not a character flaw.
9. Last but not least, if all this is too much to remember, just keep in mind that the best way to handle people who have THE FAT is as if they are human beings. Because, they actually ARE, you know.

That's all for now.  Now, what is it you wanted to say to me?

SARTORIALLY CHALLENGED

As I shrink, so shrinks my wardrobe. Nice clothing is expensive, and when you’re going down a size every month or so, you can’t really afford to outfit yourself much beyond the basics.

I’ve always been a clotheshorse. One of the self-love decisions made long ago was that I would never, repeat, NEVER dress “like a fat girl”. No polyester elastic-waist pants, no maternity jeans, no shapeless tops in ugly prints. (Whoever decided that’s how fat people should dress, anyway? Was it some kind of punitive gesture on designers’ parts? Let’s not even go there). Even with the advent of better fashion choices for big people, it’s always been something of a challenge to find things that fit, were stylish, and appropriate for my figure.

Also, although I’ve always striven to be stylish, I’ve never been able to dress in the style I’d really like. Partly because that would take a bigger budget than is possible for me, and partly because some of the styles I like just wouldn’t look good on a plus-sized body. Or on my plus-sized body, at any rate.

To further complicate matters, it’s been some years since I was at my current weight. Fashion has changed and I am also older, and I can’t wear the fantasy clothes of my younger days without looking utterly pathetic. So I find myself in an odd place, in the process of developing a body that needs to wear different types of things than I have been wearing for many years, and on the brink of being able to shop full time in non-fat-girl stores …

… and I haven’t a clue what to wear. I don’t know what I like any more. I have a fairly decent idea of what sorts of things look good on me, but suddenly shopping (which I’ve always enjoyed) is this overwhelming chore. I don’t know what my style is.

On the advice of my wise friend Kim, I checked out a site called Missus Smarty Pants. Missus Smarty Pants is a self-declared style maven who once owned a boutique, and now works as an image consultant. She also offers a subscription service wherein you send in a picture of yourself and a description of your style and sizes, along with a very reasonable forty bucks, and Missus Smarty Pants herself will tell you which of five body types you fit and how you should dress your particular type. You will also receive a very cutesy weekly newsletter and style guide. Each week she “shops” a different store or catalogue (all of them ranging from low-end to midrange) and selects several items which would look good on your body type. It’s a brilliant idea, and the styling tips for each body type are invaluable. There’s only one problem: judging by the clothes she recommends, Missus Smarty Pants’ clientele appears to consist mainly of conservative Southern soccer moms.  The outfits she suggests each week are, IMNSHO, dull and often borderline frumpy. I’ve bought exactly one suggested item, and I love it and it does look great on me --- but it is a basic. There has not been a single other recommendation that I would consider wearing. Well, this week’s list did feature a fun top, but it was $79 and I’m not spending that on one shirt unless it improves my sex life, makes me look 20 years younger and changes the oil in my car.

So what it comes down to is that I need a couple of Gay Friends. You know, really tasteful boys that love to shop for their girlfriends. Gay Friends are ndispensible to any diva under any circumstances, but now that I’m lost between wardrobes and have become officially Sartorially Challenged, I’m in greater need than ever.

I’m taking applications. And am otherwise open to suggestions!

UNDERCOVER FAT GIRL

I apologize for the lack of recent updates. I took a little trip to Florida to take part of a memorial concert for one of my dearest friends, who passed away last September. It was an unexpected and untimely death --- Gary was only 54, and he was in prime physical condition. He had always been in pretty good shape --- a leading man tenor, he was athletic and health conscious, though he did battle his weight up and down the same twenty pounds, like a lot of people. But in the last few years of his life, Gary had become interested in weight lifting and body building, which led him to study to become a personal trainer. He was in the best shape of his life at the time of his death.

Gary had never smoked; he did not drink to excess; he was not a drug addict; nor was he ever obese. Yet he suffered a heart attack the year before he died, completely without warning. The doctors were incredulous. He had the lowest body fat of anyone they’d ever seen. He was in perfect health --- except for the heart. The only explanation they could find for the attack was genetics. His father and uncle had both had heart attacks in their mid-fifties.

Gary recovered fully and quickly from the heart attack, only to be struck down by a mysterious respiratory illness that attacked his lungs. It was improperly diagnosed until it was simply too late.

These matters are much on my mind, not only because of the memorial, but because of my own weight loss efforts. When I last saw him, in August 2007 (the first photo of me in the gallery was taken by Gary when we visited him), he offered to train me, long distance. It wouldn’t have worked, not because he lacked knowledge, but because his style was so different from what I need and want in a trainer. But it did get me thinking and did inspire me, in part, to start my journey to better health and fitness.

I’m also thinking about them because of the conflicts I feel as I continue to lose weight. Having been fat my entire adult life, I cannot help but feel defensive towards the ridiculous, often vitriolic or just plain ignorantly cruel attacks fat people endure on a daily basis. Fat people as a group are reviled and mocked in every possible way. There are people who hate us and are disgusted by us because of the way we look, and they feel justified in this because they believe we choose to be fat and could do something about it if only we weren’t … well, fill in the blank. Lazy. Undisciplined. Gluttonous. Emotionally messy. I often use the term “stuffing my piehole” in what I hope is a humorously self-deprecating way (mainly because I find the term ‘piehole” really funny in a moronic, 16-year-old boy kind of way). But when you look at the way journalists often describe fat people eating, you see that there is a definite slant in the words.

John Ridley at the Huffington Post, complaining that there is no such thing as discrimination against fat people: “Yet, same as millions of Americans I can moderate the number of Big Macs I shove in my pie-hole.

But in the Everybody-Give-Me-A-Hug victim culture in which we live, the obese want a spot at the table along with those who face discrimination based on the way that God or Nature or our Intelligent Designer created us.

For the vast majority of those who are obese -- those with a Body Mass Index over 30 -- their size is their choice. They choose to take in more calories than they burn. They choose to take in high fat calories over low-fat ones. They choose to fad diet, if they choose to diet at all. They choose to go back to their poor eating habits when those diets failed rather than get down to the hard chore of eating right and exercising.” 

Let’s play count the assumptions, shall we? Fat people are that way because they “shove” food in their “pie-holes”. Fat people are whining for sympathy they aren’t entitled to. Fat people make bad choices about the diets they go on. Fat people are too lazy to stick to diets.

Then there’s the controversy over Britain’s young plus-sized beauty queen, Chloe Marshall. You need go no further than the headline of Monica Grenfell’s hateful rant in the Daily Mail --- “Miss England finalist is fat, lazy and a poster girl for ill health”. There it is again --- that word “lazy” attached almost as a synonym for “fat”. The writer goes on to attack the 17-year-old as a poster girl for all manner of obesity-related illnesses.

And while it is true that the obese are at a greater risk for some of these things, it is not true that our predilection to overeat and underexercise, or failure to choose a good diet, or stay with a diet longterm, means that we are lazy or undisciplined. I challenge any of these people who claim that my fat is a sign of lack of character to perform an opera in Russian (or any other language they don’t speak), start their own business using nothing but their own bank account and know-how, or spend an entire summer repairing their mom’s new house while packing and moving five generations’ worth of property from a two-home, three-storeroom estate. Fat, I am. Lazy, undisciplined, sickly, gluttonous, unpopular, unaccomplished, and any of those other stupidly bigoted pejoratives routinely applied to the fat … I am not.

Fat is not, in and of itself, a sign of moral failing, lack of character, or even ill health. It’s not a sign of anything except fatness. My friend Gary was in great shape, and he got sick and died anyway. Here I am, fat and diabetic and remarkably healthy. We are not the only ones.

This may seem like a very ironic post for a weight loss blog in which the writer is striving to lose two hundred pounds. I can only say that, despite my desire to lose weight, I don’t now, nor have I ever, hated myself or my body, or allowed myself to be or take or expect less simply because I am fat. I would like to be even healthier. I’d like to be fitter. I’d like to be slender simply so I fit in the world better. I’d like not to have to fight the bigotry all the time --- because no matter what people like John Ridley think, there is indeed bigotry against fat people.

But also, I know that no matter how my body comes to appear, there will always be a fat girl inside me. Rude comments and cruel jokes about fat people hurt me now more than ever. I am more aware than I formerly was of what people say. I am going to come out of this experience and still be a fat girl --- an undercover fat girl.

And that’s just fine with me.

YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT

USA Today is reporting that many major league ballparks are now offering “All You Can Eat Seats”. For $30-$40, you get your seat and as many hot dogs, nachos, Cokes,  popcorn, peanuts, and other ballpark treats as you can stuff in your piehole.  A few parks are offering “healthier” alternatives, like salad bars, fruit cups, and garden burgers. (Bet those items are going fast).  Meanwhile, the article quotes the general manager of concessions at Turner Field in Atlanta as estimating that a typical all-you-can-eat customer consumes 3.35 hot dogs; one 20-ounce soda; one 7.9-ounce bag of peanuts; one 3-ounce order of nachos and 32 ounces of popcorn --- which comes to more than 3 times your daily allowance of calories and carbs, four times the saturated fat and sodium, and seven times the fat.   

Check out the ugly truth about stadium food "nutrition" here.

I don’t want to be the food police, I really don’t, but I find this to be a particularly disgusting and upsetting trend.  I would have even before I started my own healthy lifestyle change. The last things Americans need are more culturally sanctioned celebrations of gluttony and poor nutrition. The last thing we need is another opportunity or inducement to pig out cheaply and mindlessly. There is nothing wrong with enjoying a hot dog or two or some of that gross fake cheeselike substance they ladle over tortilla chips and call “nachos”, but nobody needs to eat themselves sick for fun.

Fat people are so despised and discriminated against in our culture. We are accused of laziness, gluttony, stupidity, lack of self-discipline, and all manner of moral failing. We are accused of encroaching on other people’s God-given space and running up their tax bills with our excess demands on the healthcare system (which, BTW, has been proven a fallacy; turns out skinny people are a bigger drain on the healthcare system than us fatties merely by virtue of living longer).

And yet everywhere you go, fattening and nutritionally unsound food is thrust in your face. There’s a fast food restaurant on every corner. Grocery stores are stuffed with easy-to-use processed food full of chemicals, artificial coloring and sweeteners, trans fat, extra sugar and salt, all horrible for you. Crap food is readily served in the school cafeteria; vending machines filled with junk are available in schools and workplaces across the nation. Restaurant portions are anywhere from two to four times bigger than any one person needs to eat at a sitting.

But you, fattie? You lack willpower. We’re flashing this stuff in your face every minute of every day, but if you partake, or partake too much, YOU LACK WILLPOWER.

It’s not unlike the pressures put on women via daily media bombardment. Be sexy --- it’s your obligation as a woman to be decorative for the rest of the world to enjoy. But don’t be too sexy and don’t act on it, or you’ll be a slut. On the other hand, if you are sexy and you don’t act on it, you’re a cocktease.

We have to learn to think for ourselves, people. We have to reject these types of pop-culture, cheap’n’easy offerings. They are terrible for us nutritionally, spiritually, mentally, and culturally. They make us sick as a people. I’m not just talking about the food we eat. I am talking about the media we consume. I am talking about the carefully constructed and marketed perceptions we swallow.

Those all-you-can-eat seats? I hope they made them extra-wide.

ROAD RULES

Before I get to the Road Rules, you must meet my new hero. I found her via Big Fat Deal. She shared a personal story on her own blog, Dancing Down the Moon, about an interchange with a certified gold-plated two-inches-deep Skinny Bitch, and … well, read it for yourself.

And now to our regularly scheduled program:

I have a new Road Rule and it is this: work out first.

It’s really easy, when you’re spending most of your downtime in a hotel room trying not to get sick or wear yourself out before a performance, to piddle the day away. I’ve done it more than once. So my new rule is that before I blog, or watch TV, and certainly before I treat myself to a grocery store run, I must get the day’s workout done.

Of course, following this rule is dependent on the rehearsal schedule, but you usually get that the day before, so planning is possible.

Strike that: not only is planning possible, planning is key.  So is preparation. And that goes whether you are on the road or at home.

I have a little notebook in which I write the next day’s food plan and my daily credits (one of the Beck principles is that it’s vital to give yourself credit EVERY TIME you follow your plan or practice a healthy eating skill). I also record my daily weight, my fasting blood sugar level, and whether or not I’ve read my response cards today.

Yesterday, I had a brilliant idea: time to start incorporating my exercise plan into my food plan. Not only did I plot what I would eat today and when, but I plotted what workouts I would do and when. It sounds very simple and obvious, but how many of us actually DO it and stick to it? Procrastination is one of my sins, and this really helps.

Furthermore, it is critical to have any equipment or special clothing you need SITTING OUT READY TO GO. I laid out my workout clothes and my unfashionable little fanny pack that holds my IPod and reading glasses and water bottle and keys the night before, so that when I get up, all I have to do is pop in my contacts, stretch, get dressed, and GO. This may seem like a lot of work, but trust me, very quickly you will find that detailed preparation actually saves you time. During semesters when I’ve had an insane schedule, I actually spent time every Wednesday afternoon putting together my outfits for the week. No thinking necessary; especially no futile attempts at thinking at 5 a.m . when the day began. I spent time every Sunday planning menus, and I always prep my lunch the night before. More recently, I have begun scheduling food prep time into my day, during which I will prep everything possible for recipes for the next couple of days --- even if it’s something as simple as washing the veggies I plan to later chop. That’s one less thing I have to do when the time comes; one less barrier to me actually cooking a healthy meal rather than popping out to Jason’s Deli and eating way too many calories on the salad bar while pretending it’s healthy.

And I just want to say something here, for anyone who is reading along and thinking, “Geez, I could never be like that organized. It’s just so much WORK! ”. And I am especially talking to you if you feel overwhelmed by having to do all this stuff just to lose weight.  I know what it feels like to be standing at the bottom of the mountain with a teaspoon in my hand, knowing that I have to move it. Looking at other people who have lost a lot of weight, you don’t see their struggle. You only see the result, and you think, “Yes, she did it, but …”

There is no but. There is only what you are willing to do today, right now, this minute. There are no excuses. That language sounds harsh --- it sounds a lot like the type of negative talk that anybody who has ever been fat has heard from non-fat people who mistakenly think they’re doing us some kind of huge favor. The difference is this:  I am fat. There is a part of me that will always be a fat person. So I know what the challenges are, and I know that if I can do it, anyone can. Look, if you’re happy with the way you are --- really and truly happy, not lying to yourself --- then that is terrific, and I’m happy for you. But if you don’t like the way you look and feel, and if you want to change your lifestyle, you can do it if you are willing to tell yourself, “No more excuses” and act on it. That’s all.

THE EL PASO CHALLENGE

Before and After --- the first picture is me at the beginning of October, en route to New Orleans.

And the second is me two days ago, en route to my next singing engagement.

Click on either picture to open it in a larger format!

For the next three weeks, I will be in El Paso, home of some very fine Tex-Mex (which happens to be one of the yummiest, fattiest, highest-cal and –carb cuisines) and a whole lot of chain restaurants from which the opera company I am singing for has generously solicited vouchers on the behalf of the singers. The hotel in which we are staying is like a scaled-down cruise ship, feeding people all the time. It offers a breakfast buffet, a manager’s reception with booze and snacks in the evenings, and dinner on weeknights --- all included in the price of your stay. The opera company is extremely hospitable and has volunteers bring quite a spread of snacks to rehearsals. And of course, there will be the usual round of parties, late night post-rehearsal debriefings-cum-munch sessions, and crazy schedules like the one I have today, 5:30 – 10:00 p.m. This is not Florida, people! Who eats dinner at 4:30?

There is also the challenge of long hours alone in a hotel room, far from loved ones and the distractions of home. There is the stress of the job. All of these can and do lead to emo eating.

But one thing I am coming to grips with is that this is my life. It is not an exception to the rule. It is not vacation, it is not a nonstop party, and above all, not one of the items listed above is a reason to eat poorly or overindulge. In my old way of life, they would have been.

Lately, however, I have noticed more changes in attitude. I still like to eat, and I will always like to eat. But I no longer have to eat. People who have never been troubled by eating disorders, regular emotional eating, or the inclination to overeat --- people who have never been fat and have never been ruled by food --- will probably not understand the significance of not having to eat. Some of them will think, “What’s the big deal? You’re not hungry, you don’t eat.”  That’s not how it works on Planet Plus. Fat people will instantly “get it”.  But they may not feel that it’s attainable for them. I’m here to tell you that if I can do it, anyone can.

Today, I refused to eat pancakes that weren’t up to par. I asked for toast instead, and I was happy with eating toast while everyone else around me was having fancier things. Tonight for dinner, I had a protein bar and an apple in order to accommodate a rehearsal schedule that went over the dinner hour. I prefer to have a hot dinner, especially when singing, but it just wasn’t possible and it wasn’t a big deal. I did not prowl around the goodie table at rehearsal, making eyes at the cookies and chips.  I didn’t even think about having a piece of cheese.

That’s the big point. I didn’t even think about it. That’s the proof that I really have changed.

Anyway, the El Paso Challenge. Since I am here for three weeks, I think a seven pound weight loss is a reasonable goal. I also am setting new exercise goals. These are: cardio for 30-60 minutes five to six times a week, with three of those being harder sessions on the elliptical or treadmill, and three being walks. Strength training three days a week.  One day completely off. I’m using a free program you can sign up for at Fitness Magazine --- there are several to choose from.  Special bonus: the opera company has gotten us free passes to a real gym, which means I’ll only have to deal with the wobby, waily elliptical provided by the hotel if I get in a bind. They take care of you in El Paso!

A new goal requires a new ticker! I invite you all to set your own three-week weight loss and exercise challenge. What will YOU do to attain your goals?