Lisa Brounstein’s Blog

I know I have been kind of beating the same drum for a while now.   And, really, it’s the drum I have.   To use another cliche, it’s the hand I’ve been dealt.   It’s the bed I have so I’m going to lie in it.   It’s my cake so I’m going to eat it. I can mix a million metaphors and it all comes down to the fact that I am a fat woman living.   Yes, living and living well.   As I have said, time and time again, I live an amazing life with a loving and wonderful husband.   I have great friends and a beautiful family.   It’s a pretty sweet deal.   It isn’t everyday that I deal with some kind of personal attack because of my size.   It isn’t everyday that someone posts on my blog that I am a pig or that someone drives by and hollers some obscenity followed by a fat descriptor at me.   It isn’t everyday that a hostess leads me towards a booth in a restaurant where I know I won’t be able to fit.   It isn’t everyday that I drive with someone else and find the seat belt in their car won’t fit me.   It isn’t everyday that I walk by some women in a store and they laugh as I walk by and then whisper to each other.   Or, like today, it isn’t everyday that I walk by someone in the grocery store who makes a “tsk” sound as I pass. No, these things don’t happen everyday.

One of my better qualities, or maybe it’s one of my faults, is I try and see the good in people.   If not the good, at least I try and look at them and see what it is that has them be the way they are or do the things they do.   Like the person who posted that nasty comment on my blog the other day or the people who were so nasty about Kevin Smith on his ill-fated Southwest Airlines flight.   It always seems people’s bad behavior comes from some kind of fear.   It makes sense that if someone is afraid they may indeed act in a way that, under normal circumstances, would be considered inappropriate but in a situation where they are, say, protecting themselves it would be considered self-defense.   Hear me out on this.   We live in a climate of fear these days.   We are afraid of the financial crisis in the US, the unemployment crisis, the housing crisis, the oil crisis, the health care crisis, the war in Afghanistan, the war in Iraq, the Palestinian/Israeli conflict, the powder keg that is Iran, the fear of North Korea, the war on drugs, high sales tax, the IRS, taxes in general, etc., etc….I think I have made my point.   The list goes on and on and on with terrifying things impacting and affecting all of us in one way or another.   Given those issues, issues over which we feel that we have little or no control but to live in fear and try and function in our daily lives under the constant duress and fear weighing us down,   I can see how when the picture of obesity is painted as a global issue that needs to be dealt with it would seem like the easy solution would be to say, “step away from the refrigerator fatty!”   It certainly seems like it will be a lot easier to fix that problem, to wage that war the way it’s drawn rather than, let’s say, finding a solution for Middle East peace.

If the recipe for being thin really was as simple as just eating less and exercising wouldn’t everyone be thin?   It’s like those “get rich quick” infomercials with the guy saying, “I made my first million just sitting in my house and doing essentially nothing and you can too!”   I am sure a lot of you (I know some of my audience will definitely know this) have heard the “fact” that 95% of all diets fail.     It’s has been said and has been used to further many agendas of different diet programs as well as by fat people who are just tired of being berated.  What I have found in my limited research is that most dieters gain back ALL of their weight.   UCLA did a series of studies showing this in the late 90’s. Some statistics are skewed based on how long it takes for someone to gain back the weight they lost.   So, if someone loses 50 pounds and keeps it off for 5 years and then gains it back plus an additional 10 pounds or so in the 6th year then the diet was a success.   Can you imagine if that was your business model?   Can you imagine if you were to sell someone a product with no guarantee that statistically is proven to fail at least 95% of the time?   In a nutshell that is the diet industry…a multi-billion dollar industry scam.

There are people who are waging the war against obesity by calling it an “epidemic” or a “pandemic.”   I have heard newscasters say, “the obesity epidemic is spreading and has now become a world-wide pandemic.”     Well, for goodness sakes, keep your children indoors and away from fat people!!     Okay, that’s ridiculous, right?   Is it?   How many of you have heard that more and more people are getting fat?   How many of you have heard that people are fatter today than they were years ago?   Well, according to the CDC (The Center for Disease Control and Prevention here in the US) who produced two studies in regards to obesity both in the United States and in the England this isn’t the truth.   This so called epidemic just isn’t.     These studies were published in January 2010 in The Journal of American Medical Association.   One study was about obesity in children and adolescents and the other was about adult obesity.   These studies show that these claims of a worldwide obesity pandemic are false and that statistically there have been no significant changes in obesity in women over the last decade and for men no significant changes over the past five years of the decade.

All of this reminds of me of the movie “Wag the Dog.”   We can’t deal with all of the woes we have.   And, believe me, we have a lot of woes.   So, rather than deal with the real issues we throw out this overblown hyped issue and scare people into thinking they have to make a difference because lives are at stake. By doing this we stop paying attention to the real issues all the while forgetting and overlooking there is a human aspect in this “war.”   Fat people are people with feelings just like other people.   We bleed when we are cut.   We cry when we are in pain.   We put our shoes on one foot at a time.  

When I was young I had a friend I loved being with.   We would hang out and talk about boys and life and our futures.   Then one day she told me we couldn’t hang out as much anymore.   When I pressed her to tell me why, she told me.   It turned out her mother was afraid that by spending time with me she would get fat.   Like it was contagious.   As if she would catch my fat cooties and then balloon out out control.   It didn’t happen.   She didn’t gain weight.   Maybe her mother had her vaccinated before her daughter succumbed.   This was long before we had a “War on Obesity.  ” This was long before the so-called epidemic.   And, it hurt then and it stings now in the retelling.   As I will say again and again, I am really fortunate.   I have a great life.   Like I have a protective coating or a shell protecting me, just a bit, from this ignorance.   What about those people and children who don’t have that?   What about the people whose self-esteem isn’t whole?   What about those people who are already unhappy and are lonely and sad because the world has told them there is something wrong with them that needs to be cured?   Is telling them to eat a piece of celery and join a gym really the cure?

They say that no one is as hard on you as you are.   Or they say, “You are your own worst enemy.”   Those aren’t the same.   But lately I have been in such a funk.   Unlike Picasso my blue period has not been prolific or inspired.   Well, maybe a little inspired.   I just haven’t had the gumption to write anything down or do much for that matter.   Sure I look for jobs.   Yes, I have gone out on some auditions.   Certainly, I have thought about producing my one-woman show.   I have done a lot of thinking and over thinking and obsessing.   Nothing has come of any of it.   Maybe a small fire is smoldering inside of me that could use a bit of stoking.   I am working on that.   That’s why I’m here writing now.

I think the downward spiral came for me a couple of months ago when director Kevin Smith had the run-in with Southwest Airlines regarding whether he needed two seats to fly on their airline.   I don’t feel like getting into my whole take on the situation and how I think Southwest Airlines has bad business practices and handled the situation poorly.   But what I will say is that Kevin Smith’s situation shined a powerful spotlight on the hatred towards fat people.   People were posting such ugly and dismaying things on websites regarding this incident that I literally found myself sickened and filled with despair.   “Lose weight you fat fuck!!” is just one of the many comments that were posted aimed at Kevin.   Really?!

I have much gratitude to, of all people, Stephen Fry and Craig Ferguson.   Craig had Stephen on his show.   It was with just the two of them and no audience.   How did this help me?   Stephen talked about trolls.   Those horrible people who post on websites just to get a rise out of people.   They go there and say mean and nasty things because they can’t get away with saying them in life.     It helped a bit.   They said to not read the comments.   Those people don’t matter.   Who cares if TwilightFan13 thinks I’m disgusting because I’m fat? Really, who cares?

The problem is, I care.   I care a lot.   I care not just because it’s me and I want people to like me but I care because it pains me to think of little fat and chubby boys and girls out there who, just like I did and do, wake up everyday into a world that thinks there is something wrong with them that needs to be fixed and changed.   It makes me so sad to hear Kevin Smith talk about “passing” or being a “normy” on his   Smodcast (podcast) inferring there is something wrong with him as he is.   As if he lost weight then he would fit in and be normal.

There is so much awareness right now about this subject.   As you know there is a “War on Obesity” in this country right now.   Michelle Obama is out there teaching people to eat right so they don’t fall prey to the “Obesity Epidemic.” It’s as if fat people no longer have a voice.   It’s as if we are truly second class citizens.   It’s as if we aren’t human beings but rather animals who have no self control or self worth.   We are being treated as if we just don’t know any better and we need the government to step in on our behalf.   Wow, this is so incredibly violating and infuriating I can hardly sit here and type this.   It’s a good thing I have great blood pressure.   Because if there is going to be a War Against Lisa Brounstein, I won’t go down without a fight.

I wasn’t a particularly fat child.   Although, I felt huge compared to my friends.   I was a “normal” size baby.   I was an average sized toddler and so on.   Then around 6 I started to gain weight.   Not massive amounts but I started to become a chubby child.   At 9 I weighed 112.   I remember that was an embarrassing day when the entire 4th grade class got weighed and I weighed so much more than the other kids.   Of course, when I look back on pictures I just don’t look that big.   Yes, definitely bigger than most but not “grossly obese.”   Wow, I don’t like that term.

Growing up I was always a gamer though.   Sure my weight stopped me from some things.   I sucked at PE.   I hated the Presidential Fitness BS we had to do every year.   The stupid long jump was cruel for me.   I was short and fat and there wasn’t a chance I was going to get anywhere close to where the President said I should be able to jump at my age.   (Have I just aged myself by mentioning Presidential Fitness?   Do they even still do that?   Ack, maybe I should check before people think I went to school while we were doing our homework on stone tablets.)   By High School I gave up on PE.   I hated it.   I hated the stupid shorts.   I hated running around the field feeling so much bigger than the other girls.   I didn’t feel coached by the coach in the, “come on you can do it kind of way.”   I felt like he felt I was just taking up space…which I was.

As a child I wanted to be an entertainer.   I loved being on stage.   When I was young I took ballet and loved it!   It was so freeing.   There was an unfortunate incident with my tights splitting during a recital that definitely marked me for life.   At that point I knew I was too fat to be a ballerina.   One thing was checked off the list.   Then in elementary school I loved being in the little plays we did.   But as I got older I had the feeling that because I was fat no one would want to see me so I decided to become a marine biologist when I got older because the whales and dolphins wouldn’t care about my size.   (I hadn’t factored in getting a wet suit over my copious body nor did I imagine the anchor I would have to wear to actually submerge myself…)

There certainly have been times in my life when my weight has stopped me.   But I always am willing to try.   Save for the embarrassment of not fitting I am always willing to give it a shot.   I don’t often try to fit into restaurant booths anymore.   Not that I won’t necessarily fit but I had an experience at a great diner in Chicago where I ruined a shirt from sitting in a booth.   I slid into the booth and then sat there for hours with friends drinking coffee and having a great time.   When I slid back out my shirt was covered in gum.   Yes, gum.   The warmth of my belly had melted the gum that people had stuck up under the table leaving me covered in strands of sticky chewed gum.

I remember years ago some friends and I got the opportunity to fly over to Catalina Island.   I was ready to do it.   Sure I had some apprehension about getting into an aluminum can and flying 26 miles over the Pacific to a tiny island but it sounded like a blast.   Then the question came, “How much do you weigh?”   Uh, really!?   Because of my weight I counted as two people so, I could go if someone else didn’t.   I didn’t go.

I don’t have those experiences often in life.   You would think that after living as a large person most of my life I would be prepared.   But it still is always a surprise to me.   Maybe, in part, because I just don’t think of myself as “that” big.   I see BIG people living life all the time…people much bigger than I am.   At least, I think they are bigger.   They say your body image is established in your teen years.   Clearly my body image is skewed.

So, when I was waiting last week at Cedars-Sinai to have dye injected into my shoulder joint before an MRI I was caught off guard when the MRI tech came in and said, “I have a concern! Before we inject you I want to make sure you will fit in the tube of the MRI. I am concerned you aren’t going to fit.   Also, you aren’t claustrophobic are you?!”   He checked me out.   He had me lift the gown so he could check out my size.   He put both hands on my shoulders as if to measure my girth.   Then I took the walk of shame out of the fluoroscopy room down the hall to the elevator to the basement where they keep the MRI machines.   I asked what the weight limit was and was pleased to know I was 50 pounds lighter than the limit.   (But as my ex-boyfriend used to say, “You have the ass of a 500 pound woman.”   Yeah, EX boyfriend.) I was certainly nervous.   As I stood there looking through the window as this slight woman was being taken out of the machine I was shocked at how narrow the opening was.   “Wow!   It is a small opening,” I said to the tech.   He agreed.   I asked about larger patients and he said they either use an open MRI machine that isn’t as efficient or they don’t get one.   I told him I was surprised that the technology didn’t allow for taking care of larger patients since statistically there are so many people who are larger.   Plus with all the bariatric surgeries being done and then redone these days I was very surprised.   Of course, my surprise wasn’t going to make the opening any larger.   They got me onto the table and strapped me in.   I had to put my good arm up over my head to make me less wide at the shoulder.   They slid me in no problem.   As I found myself inside the tech yells, so I could hear him, don’t open your eyes.   Of course, I did and promptly FREAKED OUT!!   Instantly I felt claustrophobic and terrified.   I had to get out of the machine.   I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.   “Uh, you need to get me out now!!!” I yelled.   They slid me out.   I sat up.   The tech then asked me if I could do this.   They didn’t want to inject me if I wasn’t going to follow through.   I thought for a minute and thought about the pain I experience and the lack of mobility etc.   “I can do this.   I have to,” I said.   Back up I went for the injection.

I won’t bore you with the injection part.   Suffice it to say it hurt like a mother!!!   I was stunned at how much it hurt.   They had my arm outstretched with some kind of weight on it so I couldn’t move.   At one point I felt the assistants keys dangling off his neck into my hand.   The pain was bizarrely awful.   I said, “if you don’t stop I am going to yank your keys off your neck.”   It doesn’t seem as funny in the retelling.   In the moment, it’s what got me through.

Before I flew to Amsterdam, I asked my doctor for some anti-anxiety meds to get me through the flight…just in case I got nervous.   He gave me 10.   I never took them.   So, as I went back down to the basement to wait for the MRI I thought, “now would be a good time to break out the calming pills.”   I popped half of one and waited.   About a half hour later it hit and I took another 1/4 of one juat to be sure.   I was now ready for anything.   Hell, I should have taken it before the injection but who knew?   As the MRI tech started to strap me down to the table he said, “I have concern…”   “You and your concerns!!!” I said.   Turns out I was now “too relaxed.”   He was “concerned” that my breathing would be too heavy in the machine because I was so relaxed and I would move.   First, I was wearing that machine like a sausage casing or a pair of skinny jeans on, well, me.   There wasn’t a chance I was going to move.   I then asked if they would put my Glee CD in.   I figured happy goofy music would ease any lingering anxiety the meds hadn’t covered.   He then tells me he’s “concerned” about adding the cords for the headset as it will make the machine tighter etc.   Man, he needs one of those relaxing pills to calm all of his “concerns.”   I was fine.   At first I asked about the bad techno music I was hearing.   Turns out the thumps and bumps of the machine sounds like bad techno music.   It didn’t bother me at all.   45 minutes later they pulled me out.   Then they wanted me to go back in with my bad shoulder up over my head.   If I could put my right arm over my head I wouldn’t have had to do that.

My life has been amazing so far.   I would think that while my size has certainly impeded me in some ways it has made me stronger and wiser in others.   I don’t feel like I have missed out on anything.   As a child I felt like I could do anything and even though the truth of it was I had some minor limitations that were usually discovered in the moment, I have lived and continue to live an exciting and fabulous life.   Sure I’m too fat to be a ballerina and I doubt I would pass the tests to be an astronaut (not just because of my size but because if I freaked out in an MRI I doubt they would let me drug up to go into space) and I am not that keen on being a scuba diver.   I don’t feel like I am compromising by living my fantastic life at all!