Hey Fat Chick!

My only concessions to vanity these days are (1) having my hair professionally colored on a strict monthly regime, and (2) biweekly manicures to maintain my "perfect" acrylic nails.  I blame the cross dressing circle I sometimes hang out with for the latter indulgence.  Their nails always look fabulous:  I know one cross dressing engineer who sprays his press-ons with model enamel and an air gun.  (Their wigs, sadly, are another story.)  For all I poke fun at the cross-dressers, who sometimes represent to me "the worst of both worlds", they have taught me a lot about how to perform my gender.  (And I knew that I had overdone my makeup when I was identified as a cross dresser in a gay bar once.)

It's not that I've become indifferent to fashion.  I love pretty clothes.  It's simply that I enjoy seeing them on other people as much as wearing them myself.  Maybe that's a function of my age.  As we get older, and our youthful beauty inevitably wanes, we turn outward, away from the mirror.  So we take up gardening, painting, photography, and other hobbies that invite us to look beyond ourselves for visual pleasure.

Unless we're Iris Apfel, that is.

When I was younger, it was an ongoing challenge for me to find fashionable clothing that fit, even though I was only a size 16-18 in college.  In high school, it wasn't being fat that held me back socially so much as not having the proper clothes to wear for dances and sports.  As a result, I learned to configure "uniforms" that basically consisted of jerseys and jeans, or black knit pants and blazers that could have doubled as kevlar armor.  I managed to look presentable (albeit a bit matronly), but dressing remained a chore, never a pleasurable means of self-expression.

That's why I find the young "fatshionistas" (of widely varying degrees of girth) on blogs like Hey Fat Chick fun to follow.  Most of their get-ups would not be "age appropriate" for me (i.e., too too short), but sometimes I get ideas about what I could wear, and where I could obtain such items. And I'm always inspired by their gumption, their joyful defiance, their refusal to be repressed, ignored, or "shamed."

A young fat woman nowadays has an array of choices that would have boggled my mind thirty years ago.  (Unfortunately it is also true that unless she lives in a large city, she still must shop primarily online, which requires its own skill set.) And although I am not a "fat apologist" by any means, I celebrate that young women of all sizes can enjoy dressing in ways that exercise their creativity and make them feel good in their own skins. 

Giving Matt Forney a Break

I'm feeling remorseful about my treatment of Matt Forney after an exchange with a gal on "Jezebel" who knew him in high school.

She wrote:

This guy went to my high school. It actually makes me laugh when I read this stuff because the image he creates for himself is SO HILARIOUSLY FAR from reality. I remember him as an overweight, pants up to his boobs, trombone player who ran to class like a duck and couldn't look any attractive girl in the eye. 

and also this:

It is pretty sad when I think about it. I'm not sure he was ever categorically bullied but he was certainly socially excluded in school. I'd be surprised to learn he had any friends. If he actually believes any of what he writes, it will be because for years he recognized what other people saw him as, a band geek that looked 12 when he was 17. A weirdo who could never get a girl's attention, an outsider. Even calling himself "the most hated man on the internet" is telling, everything he writes is a cry for acknowledgment. He doesn't care if you hate him as long as you see him! It's a way for him to collect some personal power that he hasn't owned his whole life. I'd be curious to know what his family life was like...

My heart cracks a little to know that at seventeen, he looked twelve.  And now at 25, he looks forty.  Has this guy ever caught a break in the looks department?  The only compensation for premature balding is that when he actually is forty, he probably won't look much different.

Of course, I wouldn't have seen her comments if he hadn't linked to them on his own twitter feed.  But that's the perverse rationale of these would-be provocateurs:  there's no such thing as "bad" attention.  Indeed, they seem to find it highly stimulating.

Her words threw into sharp relief the pain that drives guys like Matt Forney.  Not for the first time, I feel remorse for mocking him.  You see, I can empathize with the high school reject he was.  I hated high school too.  I wasn't bullied, or a social pariah, but I was a perennial outsider who attended four schools in three years.  Somehow, despite skipping as much class as I attended, I managed to graduate, most likely because I had made myself so "invisible" that my teachers never noticed I was missing.  I would be amazed if any of my graduating class could even recall my name or face.  What sustained me, as I drifted through late adolescence in a kind of fugue state, was the conviction that everything would change once I got to college and my "real" life began.  (Yes, I had my own "It Gets Better" campaign running through my head long before Dan Savage dreamed that mantra up.)

Do any of us completely recover from the trauma of early social rejection?  It certainly shapes our personalities, for better or worse (and, unfortunately, as Forney demonstrates, usually worse).  Forney himself once described me as someone suffering from "narcissistic injury" and I thought, Yeah, well, right back at ya, kid!  I'm honestly not sure what that bit of psychoanalytical jargon even means, but maybe he was right.  I don't know; I don't care.  I am older than guys like Matt, and I ought to be wiser.  And more compassionate.

I think again of the epiphany Lindy West experienced when she saw Forney's former "vlog" on Youtube (now removed).  Although she doesn't refer to him by name, it is obvious she is referring to this particular "troll" when she explains how she realized, while watching it, that there was nothing he could say that could hurt her worse than the hurt he himself lives every day.  And of course she is absolutely right.

Matthew Forney ‏@realmattforney 2h

Only losers obsess over the past. Fuck what you were like as a teenager; what are you doing NOW? THAT is what defines who you are.

True enough, but when what you are doing now is widely viewed as destructive, people are apt to scrutinize your formative years in an effort to identify the source of your pathology.  And what Matt seems to be doing now is playing out a script that was written in his own troubled and not-so-distant adolescence.

Damn, life is sad, isn't it?  And complicated too.

Bridegroom

I defy anyone who has ever loved -- or who has ever wanted to love or be loved -- not to be profoundly moved by this young man's story:

This simple heartfelt video upload on Youtube inspired the documentary Bridegroom, which has been shortlisted as one of the best of 2013.  It makes an emotionally powerful case for giving gay couples the right to marry.

Of course, if there is one group that the New Misogynists fear and loathe more than "feminists", it's teh gayz.  (And teh tranz. And anyone else who is not hetero-normative according to Old Testament standards.)

It makes sense, in a way.  Variances in gender identity and orientation really mess with their most cherished core delusions about their rightful position in the world, about the very nature of human nature.  It's not surprising, either, that they have come up with various flimsy theories to explain male homosexuality which lay the blame on modern women (their unseemly bids for dominance, their nasty hypergamous ways).  Roosh, predictably, has posited that American men turn gay because of a lack of attractive, available female partners.  

It seems at first a stunningly weak theory given the scores of historical heart-throbs who had to hide their homosexuality lest they disappoint their legions of female fans (Richard the Lion-Hearted, Rock Hudson, Rudolf Nureyev, and Dirk Bogarde spring immediately to this female mind).  

Dirk Bogarde (sigh!)

However, while I was living in the middle east, I talked to a number of men who cited the strict sexual segregation of those societies to "explain" the undeniable existence of homosexuality.  And certainly people (and other animals) that would otherwise seek heterosexual pair bondings will make certain... accommodations... in captivity.  Still, it's hard to make the case that 21st century western societies, with their slutty, liberated women, are driving men into each other's arms.
  
In a conversation Roosh reports, he asks a gay man whether he "pitches" or "catches."  For a guy with Roosh's cultural baggage heritage, this is a crucial distinction, because in Iran and Turkey, the one who penetrates is perceived as "less gay" than the one who is penetrated, and that is because he is assuming the dominant, "masculine" role.  In other words, it's not the sexual act that defines one's sexuality, but the role one performs in said sexual act.  The "active" player maintains his masculinity, whereas the "passive" one forfeits his, and is thereby degraded ("feminized").  (This dogged insistence on gender-determined roles also helps explain why the Iranian government offers gay males the option of sexual reassignment surgery as an alternative to hanging.)  One of the lessons I learned from spending twenty years in the near and middle east was how culture shapes our very definition of what "homosexuality" means.

Lately, it seems that Roosh has been ramping up his anti-gay rhetoric, lauding the homophobic policies of Putin and the promotion of horrific anti-gay thuggery in the former Soviet Union.  This is just one way that the New Misogynists are oblivious to the way the global winds are blowing in favor of increased tolerance.

It's only been one year since Washington passed marriage equity, yet it's already hard for me to remember when gay colleagues were chary of mentioning their partners at work.  Watching the documentary Bridegroom this afternoon reminded me there's still a road to travel, but all the squawking and flailing of the "manosphere" or other far right reactionary groups will not stop the acceptance of gay civil rights.  And in that small way, at least, the world is becoming a better place.

Seduce and Destroy!

I'm among those who believe "Magnolia" is a great movie, not least of which is due to the incredible performance Tom Cruise gives as the toxic, emotionally crippled PUA guru, Frank T. J. Mackie.  Made in 1999, it still holds up well, and certainly Cruise has not had a role that rivals it since.  Also, the soundtrack by Aimee Mann is awesome.  You can watch the entire film on Youtube if you haven't seen it.  (Someone should have told Roosh this was a cautionary tale, not an instructional video!)

The Lies the New Misogynists Tell Each Other

Duck Enlightenment ‏@jokeocracy 4h

in my experience self identifying as a feminist correlates very strongly with liking to get choked during sex

Retweeted by Matthew Forney

I don't know if that is a lie, of course.  Maybe in Duck Enlightenment's experience, this has been true.  But more likely it is true only in Duck Enlightenment's fantasies.  

I also don't know many women who self-identify as feminists although most of them accept gender equality as part of the social fabric of our modern western lives.  How would this come up in conversation with a guy like Duck Enlightenment, I wonder. I've talked quite frankly with a lot of women about sex, and no woman has ever admitted to me a predilection for being choked during sex.  That doesn't mean there aren't women who do like that sort of thing, of course.  It just suggests to me if is not as common as, say, a predilection for cunnilingus or quietly powerful vibrators.  

If someone tried to choke me, I would be frankly terrified.  (Once a man who had perhaps seen one porn too many unexpectedly slapped my butt.  I burst into tears, more from shock than pain, which put an abrupt end to the ongoing proceedings.)

But it's not about verifiable or experienced truth, is it?  It's about maintaining a belief system that justifies the contempt of women.  Read these guys' twitter feeds, or scan the ROK and Roosh forums: pages and pages of guys exchanging their fantasies in the guise of experiences.  Lies upon lies, repeated until they achieve the well-worn patina of versimilitude.

 

Becoming a Vegetarian Despite PETA

I've been following PZ Myers for a few months and you'll see he's on my blog list under Pharyngula.  He's an atheist, whereas I would put myself in the agnostic camp, so I don't always agree with his hard line against theists.  He's a scientist as well, so I don't always understand the science he's describing, but I find the topics interesting nevertheless.  I admire his energy, intellectual vigor, honesty, and courage in being able to see the "heart" of many an issue, and to stand up for what he believes, even when it means criticizing powerful voices in his own community, or people he identifies as friends. 

So I felt myself in good company when he announced that he is embracing a vegan diet after reading a recent Rolling Stone expose of the meat industry.  I myself had come to the same resolve as a result of reading the same article with its accompanying film.

Like Myers and a gazillion other anxious liberals, I had been cutting back on meat consumption while wrestling with the moral implications of all my consumer choices.  Over the past couple of years, I have experimented with meat-free recipes and meat substitutes.  I have been buying organic milk and cage-free eggs even though it's hard, given my budget, to resist the incredibly cheap alternatives.  I've read The Omnivore's Dilemma and Animal Liberation and watched scores of documentaries on the subject.

I'm not sure why that particular article has motivated me to finally commit myself, if not fully to veganism, but at least to no longer eating or wearing the flesh of mammals.  And this motivation is not based on particular concerns for my own health, but because this is one fairly easy thing I can do to reduce the suffering of sentient beings. 

A couple of years ago I watched a documentary, the name of which I cannot remember, which was so graphic and horrifying in its depiction of the fate of animals used in research labs that I immediately dashed off a check to PETA for $200 (a significant sum for me).  Unfortunately, within a few days I had cause to bitterly regret my impulsive largesse, as PETA came forward with its notorious "Save the Whales" campaign.

The purpose of these billboards was to "fat shame" women into becoming vegans by persuading them that vegans are never fat.  This is patently untrue.  I've met a number of chubby observant Hindus, for example.  It's perfectly possible to consume enough calories to get fat with an abundance of nuts and grains, and one of my personal concerns about giving up animal flesh is that I find when I don't get plenty of protein, my "sweet tooth" takes over.

Aside from being utter twaddle, the PETA campaign's chief objective was to humiliate fat women.  The billboards were erected near beaches in Florida and California: at least one woman commented that seeing it had caused her to cancel a planned outing to the ocean with her kids, which is terribly sad.  But that is what "fat shaming" does.  It effectively discourages fat people from participating in social activities most likely to promote their physical and psychological health.  Ask any fat woman how she is received when she enters an athletic club (hell, ask me!): she is either given the "stink eye" by customers who find her appearance offensive, or she is condescended to in the most demeaning manner.  That's why people who justify "fat shaming" by claiming "concern" for others' "health" are pernicious liars, hypocrites of the worst sort.

For me, the humiliation of PETA's "Save the Whales" campaign was double, for I realized I had just thrown a wad of hard-earned cash at an outfit that had absolutely no respect for me.  In other words, I had unwittingly paid for my own humiliation.

PETA soon dismantled the campaign and apologized, but the damage to my end was done.  I had learned to dislike PETA, a disdain that persists to this day.  I couldn't get my money back, but I did insist they drop me from their membership roll.  And although I'm a fan of Joan Jett and Chrissie Hynde, my admiration for them has been, frankly, tainted by their endorsement of PETA.  I try not to look at PETA ads in magazines.  When I can't avoid seeing one, I'm always nauseated by their blatant objectification of women's bodies. 

I'm not surprised that PETA has started a new campaign that is every bit as stupid and offensive, with assertions that are not only medically unproven, but are, in fact, simply another heaping helping of "fat shaming" with a light pseudo-scientific dressing.  And that is a shame because promoting the ethical treatment of animals is important for many valid reasons.  I am fairly certain that no fat person has been coerced into turning "vegan" because some vain-glorious, celebrity-studded ad campaign "shamed" her into it.

I give small amounts of money as I am able to local animal rescue and shelter organizations where I can witness firsthand the positive results of my charity.  Now that I've learned the Humane Society is really trying to help shine a spotlight on abuses in factory farming, I'm going to shoot them some support too.  

When will PETA learn that they are turning off more people than they are winning?  I'm beginning to think that PETA is just about promoting PETA...

Get Groupies By Blogging!

Giving female fans a face for their fantasies.

This week Matt Forney teaches readers how to "get groupies by blogging."  No, really.  By following Matt's seven easy steps, any man can "enjoy a rock star life." 

You see, women are "hardwired to mate with winners" and nothing signals "conquering hero" better than a soft, goofy-looking guy who makes almost no money and sits in front of a computer most of the day cranking out vitriol while deluding himself that playing in "a crappy local band" makes him a professional musician.  See, we live in such a celebrity-crazed culture that it isn't necessary to be good at something: it's only necessary that one has a recognizable name: like, say, "Matt Forney".

Matt refers to a girl that once "not only made me breakfast, but insisted on doing my dishes, vacuuming out my living room, and dumping Drano in my toilet."  I have little doubt this happened to Matt, but he refers to the incident so often (always with the telling Drano detail), it's obvious it was a fairly singular event in his life.  Furthermore, what he takes as a girl being "suppliant" I take as a girl feeling sorry for him.  At any rate, it's not a very erotic memory, is it?  I mean, how bad does a toilet have to get to call for Drano?

Of course, Matt lays down certain caveats.  First, "most groupies reside in the middle of the attractiveness spectrum."  Really?  So Kate Hudson-as-Penny Lane was just a Hollywood fantasy after all?
 

Second, groupies don't make good long-term girlfriends because they are all "ho's" ("ho's," let it be noted, who occasionally provide fanatically high levels of housekeeping service).  

Third, geography is a major "cockblocker" for bloggers, since potential groupies tend to be dispersed around the world of Matt's imagination.  Easy to see why that presents a serious obstacle for a guy like Matt, who relies on hitch-hiking to get across the country.

Once he has responsibly forewarned his readers, Matt gets down to the business of getting girls by building blogs.  See, if Matt knows anything, it's how to get women's attention.  Apparently women on the internet like blogs about game, self-improvement (i.e., weight lifting), and punk rock because those interests make a man look "cool."  "Unacceptable topics include politics, video games and anything that makes you look angry, bitter, or nerdy."  (It's almost hard to type that last quote because even my fingers are laughing so hard.)

Then there is the matter of style.  Bloggers who attract groupies "convey strength, confidence, and mastery," just like Matt.  On the other hand, indulging in a "negative, carping tone" a la Paul Elam is the kiss of death.  Girls want winners, not whiners!  Writers like Matt himself, who project "unapologetic masculinity... establishing ourselves as dominant men who put women in their place."  Don't squander logic and reason on the likes of women, and instead engage their erotic imaginations by describing "hot" sexual encounters.  Look at the success of 50 Shades of Grey -- how difficult can it be?

But, wait, there's more!  Read Aristotle's Rhetoric (I'll put that on my reading list immediately) for the fundamentals.  Find your own voice -- but make sure that voice is deep and commanding.  Blog regularly (alternate, perhaps, with lifting?).  Network with other bloggers (cuz "no man is an island" yadda yadda yadda).  Oh, and by the way, please buy Matt's e-book on the subject (of course!).

Curiously, Matt claims it is "absolutely vital" for bloggers to post pictures of themselves.  I say this is curious advice from Matt because as far as I know, there are only two photos of Matt in the public domain, and they are only used by bloggers like me who want to mock him.  In fact, Matt took down his old "vlog" because Youtubers made such relentless fun of his, uhm, less-than-dominant presentation.

Finally, Matt cautions would-be rock stars bloggers who dream of following in his trail-blazing footsteps to "be patient."  This isn't going to happen overnight (or probably ever), but when your manosphere blog takes off, it will all be worth it.  One day you too will lie back on your satin upholstered, circular bed, like the returned king you were destined to be, and "bask in the attention of your lady fans."