CGG August: Write Your Face Off #2: Who You Callin' Fat?

I'm going to work at participating in the writing challenge issued by my ginger spirit boob animal guide Brittany Herself. You can find the entire list of August writing prompts at her blog if you want to peek ahead at what I'm up to, or just, you know, stay tuned.

August 2, 2014 Prompt: The first time you were called fat. When was it, and how did it change your life?

I can't honestly say that I remember the first time. It was just a thing that everybody knew. I remember it being understood, like it was understood that I was a girl, or that I had brown eyes, or that I had hands; it was understood that I was fat. It was also understood that this was the worst possible thing I could be and the thing that brought shame to my family. As a child, this was part lack of self-confidence and part conditioning. I grew up in an environment where I was told I was smart and outgoing, although I never felt outgoing at all. I was told that I was an extrovert, someone who wouldn't hesitate to speak her mind, someone who never met a stranger, but the idea of being any of those things was always terrifying. I faked it a lot. Still do. Still terrifying. Eventually I got the message that being the funny fat girl was better than being the boring fat girl. It will horrify my parents to learn that the overarching message I received from them about women was that only thin women are worthwhile. My mother took me to ERA marches and punk concerts. Those things and more sent great messages when they occurred, but they weren't the messages broadcast at me day in, and day out. Day in, and day out, my mother was the most beautiful woman in the room, at all times. The beauty pageant competing, golden-voiced, fashion modeling, anorexic, bulimic, self-torturing woman with ribs prominent enough to be counted sent a much more consistent message. My father taught me to code and navigate by the stars, to think critically and rely on science. Day in and day out, he didn't even acknowledge women as people if they were outside of the Playboy standard. These were the contexts in which women were approached. 

At various times my parents and grandparents offered me money to lose weight, enrolled me in weight loss classes, told me boys would pay attention to me if I lost weight, and so on, and so forth. So I can't say I remember the first time someone actually called me fat. I remember the first time I put on a body-conscious sweater dress in high school, and when my younger brother saw me, he gasped "But I thought Jennie was FAT!"

So did I. Looking back on pictures from that time, I had young teen pudge. I can remember sucking in my belly and thinking "if only that would go away, I'd be pretty!" If only I knew then that I was a strong young woman. If only I knew that I was worthwhile and valuable for lots of reasons, none of them body-specific. If only I had been able to see my own 14-year-old self the way I see my incredible 14-year-old daughter. I'm trying to teach her what I should have learned, myself.

I'm in the middle, at around age 14

CGG August: Write Your Face Off #1

I'm going to work at participating in the writing challenge issued by my ginger spirit boob animal guide Brittany Herself. You can find the entire list of August writing prompts at her blog if you want to peek ahead at what I'm up to, or just, you know, stay tuned.

August 1, 2014 Prompt: Write a letter to yourself 10 years ago. What do you know now, that you wished you’d known then? 

Dear Jenne,

It's about time you stopped with the dumbass spelling of your name which you devised at age sixteen and had engraved on a Zippo lighter (the teenage version of legally and permanently changing one's name) so that you could offer one spelling for people who call you Jen and people who call you Jennie. You're thirty years old, and you're not a Jennie. You're a Jen.

Things are about to get very difficult, very fast. It's time to make that huge step you've been putting off because it's scary, and time to get on with the rest of your life. It's going to be really great, and the kids are going to turn out to be incredible people. Stop being so afraid.

Let me say that again: Stop being so afraid.

Love,
You, age 40.

Cheetos To You!

Eme presenting to me the
Tell Them "Cheetos to you!" Award

Internet Nation, I accidentally got myself a catch phrase.

I make no secret about who I am, what I do, and the things I enjoy. I talk, you know? When I like things, I like to share that information with my friends so that maybe they will spend some of their hard-earned moneydollars on those things, too. Sometimes it happens in the other direction, although I try not to be a Cranky Cathy if I can help it. I'm curmudgeonly; I'm not rude. Usually. So it's pretty common knowledge that I like Tell Them, the organization and the women who run it. I advocate on their behalf, I contribute to their blog, and I participate in their online events. Internet, It Is Known. (It is known)

It's the online part which brings us here today. Like Vikings punter and glimmering sparklepony Chris Kluwe, my writing career was primarily born from the gaming communities (he's referred to such communities as "a seething pit of ignoramuses, born of misspoken children on the internet"), where, as he said, "if you go after someone, you'd better make sure you've got your ducks in a row or they're going to come right back at you". I'm in complete agreement with Mr. Kluwe: If I'm going to call you out, "the only way to do so without being ignored is to craft a completely logical argument that has a hook."

Which brings us to how I intervened in a fingerquote discussion fingerquote on Tell Them's facebook page. You can read the entire thread for yourself, if you want. It doesn't matter what you're saying or how reasonable your argument may be. If you start with hate, the rest of your argument, however logical it may be, is automatically a pile of poop. So, I replied, and then declared to friends "BABAM! They just got JBeebled!". And so #jbeebled you can now get, and it is a thing you can be, and be careful because it is typically contagious.

I was henceforth crowned Queen Bee of the World and a motion was carried to replace the word "kudos" with "cheetos". You might not even believe me if I told you how many women were saying "CHEETOS TO YOU!" yesterday. Heh. The thing is, Internet Nation: DON'T HATE. EDUCATE. And CHEETOS TO YOU, from the Tell Them "Cheetos to You" Award recipient and Queen Bee of the World, March 2013.

BABAM! You just got JBEEBLED!

20 Questions with JBB

Source: PalmettoParent.com

Recently I was asked to answer 20 questions for the local monthly magazine Palmetto Parent.

I worked previously with the nice journalist lady on an article about my work with Adluh, and I was pleased to have an opportunity  to work with her again.

Then I was asked to participate in a brief photo shoot and I was horrified at the idea, since... well, I address that below. I couldn't get out of it, though, and the magazine sent a photographer over to GraySail to point her clickything at me. She was super friendly, very understanding about my nervousness, and did a great job in spite of her subject matter. You can see one of the two shots she submitted to the editor along with the interview on page 30 in the October 2012 issue of Palmetto Parent. It's on newsstands now and will be the only thing available to read in the offices of pediatricians throughout the midlands.

The literal fives of readers who previewed this article mentioned to me that the answers don't sound entirely like... me. That's due to editing; space is very tight in the publication and because I could talk and talk and TALK, the nice journalist lady was faced with the daunting task of editing my answers down to fit. My original answers are printed below, because I know how you are about Schadenfreude, gentle readers. Yes, I know.


20 Questions with... Jennifer Bailey Bergen (Palmetto Parent, October 2012)