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I have but one wish, dear peeps: stop talking about your weight.

Let me explain why I'm not actually being a tremendous bitch. [Editor's Note: Okay, on reflection that's probably a lie.]

I know a lot of you out there are eating differently,* or exercising more, or taking up a new activity, or making other changes to your lives.

Your lives are your lives and your choices are your choices and your changes are your changes.

But I beseech you. Can it with the fucking weight talk. Stop with the ephemeral irrelevant subjective bullshit that is "weight".

It's a fucking number on a fucking scale - and for God's sake, as a planet we can't even pick ONE scale to use.

Do you want to have more energy? Do you want to be able to run a certain distance or lift a certain weight or achieve a measurable change in your body's biochemistry? Do you like working up a sweat thrashing out to 80s hair metal? AWESOME.

Now some of these things might also make you lose weight. And some of them might make you gain weight. And they might have no effect on your weight at all. But as long as you have the energy or make the time or have the strength who gives a fuck about a number?

You may honestly want to turn around and say "well, the *number* is what makes me happy!" I am sorry to be a tremendous bitch: if you are seriously basing your happiness and self-esteem on a number you may never reach and will almost certainly not maintain, you need to re-evaluate your concept of "happiness", because it looks like "self-acceptance" isn't on your list.

Side Note: On the Fitting of Clothes

Of course there's always "I gained weight over Christmas so my clothes don't fit".

Notice how we say our clothes don't do something, and then automatically assume the solution is to change our bodies?

This was a realisation for me, so I vaguely apologise for the forthcoming shouting:


This is not just "sizes are different between brands", and it is not "vanity sizing", and it is not "XYZ cut their pants differently". This is, no piece of fabric, however pretty or expensive, is the boss of your body. If it doesn't fit, it is wrong clothing. *It*, and not imaginary overnight-inflation of your hips, is what needs to go.

If only because at the end of the day, your body is the thing you're going to be living in for the rest of your life, and it will change. It will sag, it will wrinkle, it will get bigger or smaller and clinging to those dream size-12 pants will not stop it from doing this.

Easy choice: get hung up on a number (weight or size) that will change and is ultimately meaningless,** or do what you enjoy and buy clothes that fit.

Further Reading

Disclaimer: Obviously, a shit-tonne of white middle-class able-bodied privilege here. Not everyone has access to Western supermarkets and clothing stores, much less full-time work or a disposable income, or even scales to throw away. You are reading this post online, from a computer: the mere fact you have electricity and spare time makes you part of the elite.

Further, there are people who do need to know their weight, and do need to monitor it, and that's because it could literally kill them to lose weight. And a lot of those people? Have been told they're lucky, or that at least their illness "comes with benefits". That is our society's attitude to weight, people. Don't participate in it.

*And some of you are pretending it's not a diet, but that's an issue that *would* involve me being a tremendous bitch.

**My weight? 98kg - I know because the doctor weighed me and I'd chickened out of arguing, deciding I'd only pick a fight if the BMI got mentioned. My size? perfect XS at City Chic, 12 at Zebrano, 14-16 at Farmers, 16-18 at Max/Bendon, perfect 18 at Jacqui E, 20 at Kooky. I could care about this, or I could be a happier person. Ask J.


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Boxing Day Baby

December 2010

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