Fat Politics

I’ve long been a loyal and devoted follower of Dan Savage (a great sex columnist, and an even greater writer).  I came upon his column while perusing a Now Magazine during an unbearably long lunch break.  

Being a life-long suburbanite, I never had access to an alternative weekly before.  At home, the only papers to hit my doorstep are the Toronto Star and Mississauga News.  Neither publication spends much time discussing obscure sexual fetishes, or advertising for strip clubs and escort services.  I also went to a Catholic high school, where no such reading material was readily available.  So you can imagine my delight when attendance at a notoriously liberal university led to the discovery of salacious material embedded in innocuous newsprint.  

I fell in love with Dan instantly, and shared his divine insight with everyone I knew.  

One day, he wrote about complaints from disgruntled readers.  He had angered them by saying that larger girls look bad in too-tight pants.  Specifically, he was referring to the roll of fat that hangs over a snug waistband.  More specifically, he was commenting on the phenomenon of size 8 women trying to wear size 4 pants, and looking like ruptured sausages because of it.  Now, the sight of strangled skin struggling to free itself from the confines of hip-crushing pants is loveably referred to as “muffin-topping.”  The consensus of the people (fashion experts, casual observers, my mother, etc) is that this trend cannot continue.  Fashionable attire is supposed to make you look better, not worse.

However, the argument was not about what looks good, but rather the “right” to feel good in unflattering outfits.  It seems like that excess flesh is political, a “fuck you” statement to a world that values women’s bodies rather than their minds.  It’s not terribly out of line to wave the finger at the media.  Hollywood likes its women dirty-skinny (and it likes to deride them for it, too).  No two people are built the same, and not everyone is meant to slither underneath closed doors or have legs the width of a man’s wrist.

However, we must be able to agree that a 5′2 person should not weigh 400 pounds.  Yet we can’t.  According to outraged Savage Love readers, being fat is just like being gay – a permanent, unchangeable aspect of one’s being.  To advise a torn man to gently confront his wife about her 90 pound weight gain is to encourage hate and discrimination.  

People counter these arguments with offensive remarks.  They decry the existence of disgusting excess weight, and demand that the whiny fatties hit a gym and stop eating gallons of ice-cream.

Why, I wonder, can people not be reasonable?  Why must things become so political?

It seems to me like excess weight (as in weight that’s close to double what it should be) is not always a product of laziness (God knows that they’re are lazy and inactive skinny people), but rather a product of a culture that’s lost touch with basic health principles.  Our portions are enormous, our cheap food loaded with fat, and our favourite gourmet lattes filled with sugar.  A lot of jobs require nothing more than the use of fingers to punch numbers into a computer.  

It cannot be denied that obesity is linked to health problems, but not a lot is done to curb the problem at a national level.  People would be horrified if the government taxed sugary pops (or sodas, for any American people reading this) like it does cigarettes, or forced restaurants (fast food ones included) to abide by pre-determined health standards (and they wouldn’t, because franchises are generally good for the economy).  Instead, we (sort of) encourage people to make healthy choices.

“Eat an apple,” we say.  ”Go for a walk.”

There’s nothing wrong with making a personal decision to eat less and move more, but it seems like some people don’t know how much they truly eat or how little they actually move.  North Americans have grown so accustomed to platters of pasta and buckets of fries (I’m only using mild hyperbole here) that some would find anything smaller dissatisfying.  Also, does everyone know that one can of Coke contains up to eight teaspoons of sugar?  Do people know that a venti white mocha from Starbucks has almost as many calories as a quarter-pounder with cheese from McDonalds?  

When people hear the word “diet,” they think of deprivation – of raw vegetables and tiny cuts of skinless, boneless chicken breasts.  Really, it can be hard to tell how much is too much, and it’s harder still when the fries that make your hips swell seem to melt off of your skinny (but perhaps more sedentary) friend.  

So, if there was less fast-food, less pop and smaller portions, would people be smaller?  Yes, they absolutely would.  A plump figure was considered attractive in the 18th century because everyone was thin and hungry.  Now we’re more than satiated, and we have the muffin-tops to show for it.  

Instead of arguing over what looks good, and what should look good, and why thinking a certain person doesn’t look good is akin to a lynching, we should be trying to figure out why this debate exists.  Why do some people need two seats on an airplane?  Is it because they’re lazy wastes of life?  Drains on the medical system? Inconveniences in crowded areas?  Or is because we’re a culture that consumes and consumes and consumes?  A culture that wants more food and more TV shows and more electronics?  We want big houses and big cars and big walk-in closets.  We want instant food for low-prices.  We’re too busy to cook and go grocery shopping.  

It’s not right or just or fair to make a thicker person feel like a lazy slob – he or she is no such thing.  However, we cannot, as a culture, over-consume something and incur no ill effects.  Too little food will kill, and it seems too much will too.  

What’s to blame isn’t bigotry or intolerance, but rather ignorance.  It seems we don’t know why we are the way we are.  We’re bigger than we want to be (and much bigger than we’re told we should be).  It’s hard when you’re tired and busy and want a quick burger before bedtime.  It’s hard when every restaurant serves you a meal that could easily be shared with two other people.  It’s hard when high-fat foods are delicious.  It’s hard when many jobs require that we just sit and stare at a computer screen.  

The problem has more to do with a culture obsessed with size and convenience.  Perhaps we’d all be benefitted by caring less about both.

Muurrrdeer Hiiiiimmmm!!!

So, I’ve been thinking about social politics again.  Social politics are probably the only politics I think about, because I’m a shallow and superficial person.  I articulate myself well (sometimes), but I’m not overly intelligent (a fact I’ve come to accept).  I have a limited understanding of complex facts and figures, and I still count on my fingers.  What’s 10 per cent of 127 dollars?  I don’t know, I stopped doing math after grade 10. 

However, I do like a hot discussion about a hot topic – like, say, an attractive politician’s affair with a sultry blonde subordinate.

I moreso like reading people’s reactions to it.

There’s a lot of indignation regarding politician’s sexual indiscretions.  A lot of titillation and fascination too, granted.  Still, when news of an affair breaks, people decry the immorality and some (not all) lament the decline in family values and God-fearing personal integrity. 

In the case of John Edwards, a certain degree of disappointed head-shaking is called for.  His wife is terminally ill and has been battling cancer since 2004.  A woman who has lost a son and her health is now being forced to deal with the humiliation of having the world know her charismatic husband fucked around on her with a woman he may or may not have impregnated (the jury is still out on that one).

I feel for her, we all feel for her. 

However, what’s most fascinating about this incident (and others like it) is that in the United States, sexual dalliances – when revealed – are always career-killers (unless you’re Bill Clinton).  However, to be fair, Clinton suffered a fair bit once the world found out about his little on-the-side BJ.

I’m not defending people who cheat.  Cheating is hurtful, harmful and destructive.  It is not, however, a political issue.  It’s a personal one, involving several people – not millions or billions.   Some would argue that infidelity is indicative of poor character (and it can be), but it probably doesn’t affect how a person does his or her job.  People behave differently in their interpersonal relationships than they do in their professional lives (generally speaking, anyways).  Also, there’s probably no one cause of unfaithfulness.

In the case of Edwards, living with a terminally ill woman may have compelled him to seek carefree sex elsewhere.  That’s not to say what he did was excusable, but it puts the situation into perspective.  What he did was probably more careless and weak than malicious.  People seek different kinds of sexual fulfillment for vast reasons, most of which cannot be understood by themselves, let alone a gossipy public. 

I’ve become inclined to think that the public prefers to focus on small, scandalous issues because they’re easier to understand and discuss.  Understanding economics and public policy can be trickier. It requires more study and concentration, and a deeper understanding of the subject matter.

Any asshole can spout opinions on matters of social significance.  Even politicians will choose to debate frivolous issues that affect small pockets of people instead of major issues with world-wide implications.

Why talk about a failed war, plummeting economy and escalating environmental damage when you can incite rage by shrieking about the grave danger inherent in allowing the state to sanction and condone men marrying men?  People are more likely to get uppity about trivial issues that affect their emotions rather than their lives.  The idea of gay people marrying disturbs some people psychologically.  Yet, when these marriages start happening, the lives of numerous naysayers won’t change overmuch.  They’ll work the same jobs, make the same salaries, eat the same foods, live in the same houses, etc.

People will rally against things that, in the grand scheme of things, don’t matter all that much.  Similar logic can be applied to the abortion debate.  The idea of abortion causes emotional unrest, but doesn’t affect people all that much.  Abortions are, at the end of the day, between women and their doctors.  No one ever need know that a fetus was unable to develop.  The world hasn’t spontaneously combusted, nor will it. 

Over-the-counter availability of the morning after pill?  That chaps the ass of a few people – and why?  Because the knowledge that people are having sex outside of the confines of a child-wanting marriage bothers some people.  Yet, that pre-marital sex isn’t a world issue.  It’s a personal issue all around. 

STDs – well, most are preventable and almost all (with the exception of AIDS and herpes) are curable.  They’re social problems in so far as they’ll be dealt with by certain individuals at some point, much like other diseases.  In fact, STDs are less problematic than cancers, which are prevalent and far more difficult to treat and cure. 

I’d even go so far as to say that HIV is not a crisis in the West.  It  was a crisis back in 1987 when no one knew what it was or how to prevent it.  People know more now, and can – if they choose – protect themselves.  Condoms and routine testing are easily accessible.  Collective social crisis averted, I’d say. 

Still, it’s easier to dismiss someone based on their sexual proclivities or tolerance of sticky social subjects.  It’s harder to think of big issues, issues that can and will affect the world at large.  Issues that will, inevitably, affect one’s life.  Instead, people debate subject matter close to their hearts.  There’s nothing wrong with passion or thoughtfulness, but it shouldn’t dominate political discourse.  In the end, a lot of hot topics don’t really matter. 

Gay people getting married?  A good thing, because nothing particularly bad can come it.  It can make you uneasy, but everyone has to deal with things that make them uneasy. 

It’s easy to call for someone’s head when he does something wrong in his personal life, but it’s not particularly healthy or affective.  Someone else’s blowjob is someone else’s blowjob.  Your life wont be any different tomorrow because of it.

Casual Sex Makes People Kill Themselves

Heath Ledger’s possible cause of death.

I like to stop by CWFA every once in awhile.  I like to see what topics have those ladies so concerned.  What, I wonder, is plaguing the steadfast souls of the devout women of America today?

Sometimes their pet issues are valid ones, such as sex trafficking.  Few people actively and consistently work to raise awareness of the plight of foreign (and sometimes local) women forced into prostitution.  That’s a serious issue that I (and hopefully many others) can get behind. 

However, most of the women’s (and one man’s) concerns are frivolous and petty.  The website consistently attempts to wage war on things it cannot (and should not) defeat – birth control, Planned Parenthood, homosexuality, anal sex, etc.  However, social politics are often complex, and vehemently defended by those who devote themselves to them. 

When you have a pet issue, you’ll promote it any cost. 

For CWFA, one of those pet issues is pre-marital sex.  It ruins lives, they argue.  It contributes not only to societal decay, but to disease, depression and, well, failure at life.  It’s something spoken about with sad eyes and pursed lips.  A ”sad shame” - much like poverty. 

Apparently, one writer theorizes, it may have been one of the many straws that broke the camel’s back and led to Heath Ledger’s shocking and sudden death.  Heath was obviously depressed because he was unmarried and sexually active.  His heart, too fragile to withstand the horrid strain of giving his body to women outside of the matrimonial boudoir, withered away to nothing. 

If only – if only! – he’d said “no” to sex and “yes” to traditional, conservative family values.  As if the only time one’s heart can be broken is if he/she engages in pre-marital sex with his/her partner.  As if no one has ever been hurt - deeply and irreversibly – by platonic friends, relatives and non-sexual romantic partners.  As if depression isn’t about a great hopelessness or sadness caused by a vast number of factors. 

Mental illness is not directly related to sexual activity, though irresponsible or unsafe sex can become a symptom. 

Oh, if only every broken man or woman had just kept their pants on.  If only they drank less and went to church more. 

Depression and anxiety can plague even the purest of virgins.  They can manifest themselves in God-fearing, sermon-attending folk with nice spouses and beautiful children.  They affect the wealthy, the successful and the beautiful.  Broken relationships – be they sexual or non-sexual – damage people.  Abandonment hurts, regardless of how much sex was involved. 

Depression is bigger than sex.  It is bigger than personal politics.

Yes, it’s a terrible shame that severe sadness (and perhaps associated excess) caused the death of a young, promising actor with a blooming career and two-year old daughter.  What’s a worse shame is using a tragedy to push a puritanical political agenda.  The death of a troubled man is just that – the death of a troubled man.  It is probably not the result of indiscriminate fornication or a “liberal” lifestyle. 

A lot of people live liberally, and not all of them are found dead in their friend’s apartments before the age of 30.  A lot of people have various sexual partners, and find happiness still.  A lot of people have few to no sexual partners, and experience crippling sadness and depression. 

Hopelessness transcends personal politics. 

No one will ever know exactly what killed Heath Ledger.  Perhaps it was a broken heart.  Perhaps the break-up of his relationship with his fiance left him devastated.  However, that relationship was anything but “casual.”  I’m sure that, upon learning that his girlfriend was leaving him, Heath’s first thought wasn’t, “I feel so cheap and used because we had sex several times before marriage.”

Broken emotional bonds can be devastating.  Broken hearts are hard – impossible, at times – to deal with.  Like any physical injury, they require healing. 

However, there are most likely many contributing factors to Ledger’s reliance on prescription drugs.  It’s simplistic and disrespectful to throw “pre-marital sex” into the mix.  These concerned ladies – like most of us - did not know Ledger.  They cannot know what pain he endured, emotional or otherwise.  It was unwise, callous and irresponsible to atttibute his untimely demise to something as vague and personal as sexual choice.  It was merely a way to say, “see, see – sex kills talented people with great potential!”

I can’t say I’m surprised.  Forcing their politics into stranger’s personal lives is what conservative think-tanks like them do best. 

A Man is arrested for, well, fucking a bicycle

Observe:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/scotland/glasgow_and_west/7095134.stm

So two hostel cleaning women walk in on a man fornicating with a bicycle and run, terrified, to their equally uptight manager, who consequently calls the police?

The hostel guest – who was no doubt paying for his accomdations – was masturbating, privately, in an unconventional manner.  This is somehow considered worthy of legal intervention? Legal intervention severe enough to land this man on a sex offender’s registry?

A bicycle is an odd object to use for self-stimulation purposes, no question.  However, the shocking miscarriage of justice aside, why aren’t these people acknowledging the absolute hilarity of the situation?

People commit no shortage of strange sexual acts in hotel/hostel rooms.  Now, hostels are a little different from hotels in the sense that many of their rooms house, on average, 2-20 guests.  Sexual activity in a non-private hostel bedroom is riskier than such activity in a hotel, as others may be subjected to viewing something they never agreed to witness.  However, the bicycle-fucker was alone – and in a locked room, no less.   Also, despite the fact that hostels generally house numerous travellers (most of whom are strangers to one another), they probably see their fair share of enthusiastic couplings.

I can’t believe this poor guy’s luck.  The middle-aged dude faces legal recourse after dropping extra Euros to ensure a private bedroom for him and his bicycle – a bedroom guaranteed to be free of North American 20-somethings.  He didn’t wander back, drunk or stoned, at 3 am to engage in loud sex with the Spanish girl he met earlier that night at the pub.  He found a little haven for him and his bike and went to town, only to offend the fragile sensibilities of cleaning women who didn’t have the decency to turn away, close the door, and spend the night three years of their lives in hysterics.

If I walked in on a man fucking a bike, I’d be enthralled.  I wouldn’t stay and watch, mind you, but I’d be glad I witnessed something so strange and, yes, story-worthy.  I’d no doubt tell everyone.  I’d tell co-workers, friends, family members, acquaintances, and strangers.  I’d regale the crowds at cocktail parties (if I ever found myself at one)  with the tale of the time I’d innocently walked into a hostel bedroom and found a half-nude man rigorously riding (in every sense of the word) the sparkly blue metal of his 26″ Schwinn.  People would gasp in shock.  They’d cover their mouths in horror.  But ultimately, they’d end up throwing their heads back in laughter.

When I was staying a hostel in Nice, France, two (sober, might I add) Canadian boys (from my neck of the woods, actually) attempted, in a fit of key-related frustrated, to break down the door to the room.  That was a disturbance. 

Had I walked in on one of them privately masturbating with an inanimate object,  I wouldn’t even have thought to get angry, let alone call the police.  I’d be entertained, if not initially embarrased.  However, my embarrasment would be no match for his own, and I’d acknowledge/accept that.

OMG!PENIS!

While I work, I scour the internet for the purpose of mental stimulation.  Actually, that’s a lie – I use it to fuck around on Facebook.  Well, most of the time that’s what I use it for.  Sometimes, (like I did today) I use it as an educational tool.  A tool to educate myself on interesting matters.

One of my favourite websites belongs to James Dobson’s conservative think-tank Focus on the Family.  Dobson said, a year or so ago, that fathers exposing themselves to their sons prevents homosexuality.  Upon hearing that luscious pearl of wisdom, I became fascinated with the good “doctor” and his ministry. 

In fact, you can find it (and him) right here:

http://www.family.org/

Once I arrived at my destination, I began looking for the latest tidbits on morality (sexual morality, to be exact).  I decided to forego the gay-bashing articles and instead settled on a little “why sex is bad for you” fare.

I found a rather thorough Adobe article on the effectiveness of abstinence-only education.  The article cites various studies (partisan ones, perhaps), and concludes that safe sex is an oxymoron, and that those who believe in/practise it are destined to suffer diseased genitalia and unwanted offspring.  The article itself is worth a look, so here it is:

http://www.citizenlink.org/pdfs/fosi/abstinence/take_12.pdf

I won’t dissect it here, but will instead draw attention to a particularly memorable (and telling) line:

“My 16 year-old daughter came home visibly shaken after sitting through a film in her co-ed sex-education class; the movie had a graphic scene of a man putting on a condom! What can I do?”

What can you do, concerned mother?  Tell your daughter that a naked penis in a sex-ed movie is nothing to get shakey about. 

I’d understand being shaken after viewing a graphic documentary about the humanitarian crisis in Sierra Leone.  That film, after all, shows a mentally disabled child (probably under 10) being beaten by a group of adult male soldiers.  I’d understand being visibly shaken by news footage of, say, a large-scale terrorist attack or tragic school shooting.

Visibly shaken by the sight of a condom-convered penis?

Calm the fuck down.   

If the sight of a nude body part can traumatize someone, that person (and perhaps society at large) needs to rethink its position on nudity and sexuality in general.  There’s nothing wrong with safely and ethically familiarizing people (yes, even older teens) with nude bodies and how they work in a sexual context – especially if the purpose of the display is educational (which this clearly was).  The girl in question wasn’t forced to review objectionable pornography, she was granted the opportunity to witness a helpful demonstration on proper contraceptive use.

The article, downplaying its puritanical slant, focuses on building a “Reefer Madness” case against contraception.  Namely, they accuse it (and by “it” I mean condoms – and only condoms) of being ineffective and inherantly harmful in the way its existence subtly encourages people to have sex.  The article does not mention (in any real or helpful detail) hormonal birth control, STI testing, or typical cures for non-serious infections. 

It talks about damaging the “natural” modesty that exists between boys and girls by educating them on the sexual functionality of one another’s bodies.  To one girl (real or not) the sight of an erect penis was  somehow as frigtening as, like, the aftermath of a car-bombing…or something. 

Many moons ago (when I was seven or eight), I was unexepectedly exposed to the sight of an erect penis – a large one, no less.  Oh, and it was in a woman’s mouth. 

Like most families, mine had a collection of home videos (this isn’t going in the direction that you think it is, don’t worry).  One day, my younger brother and I decided to view one.  My mom, also craving a light-hearted stroll down our lane of memories, picked a random video and put it on.  I can’t remember how it started (probably at a birthday party or some such occassion), but I do remember it ended with disrupted tracking, static, and a blonde woman fellating a well-endowed man.

It was a shocking moment, but not one that had me cowering in a corner, shaking and sobbing.  My mom may have wanted to react in such a way (and looking back, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did), but she held back.  The tape was ejected, and me and my brother’s brief foray into cinematic dick-suckery was never mentioned again.

My second unintentional descent into the dark world of uncovered private parts?

An accidental look at an earlier volume of The Joy of Sex.  The man in the pictures (who often had an erection) bore a startling resemblance to Jesus Christ (a fact that never really shook my fragile Catholic soul as much as you’d think it would).

In fact, rare glimpses of nudity and sexuality (all viewed in media, not real-time) served to, I think, broaden my mind and peak healthy curiosities at a younger (but not inappropriately young) age.  I didn’t have a plethora of lovers at the tender age of 14, I can tell you that much.  I was simply harder to scandalize, and therefore less inclined (perhaps due more circumstance than choice, to be fair) to seek illicit experiences before I was able to properly deal with and conceptualize them.

I wonder how the good “doctor” would respond if I told him my adventure with home videos.  He might claim I was – indirectly, of course – sexually exploited by irreponsible parents.  He’d shake his head sadly and attribute my current habits (none of which are bad, trust me) to an unstable, sex-saturated childhood.

Some people fail to realize that a little knowledge (obtained by a little experience) shapes behaviour better than dogmatic instructions on the perils of dropping one’s pants.