The Fat Ask and the Big Ask
I've been playing with Twitter in the last couple of days (fun!), and a couple of friends have pointed me (more than once, I think) toward Havi Brooks (and her most excellent and highly esteemed duck, Selma) at the Fluent Self. She has one post in particular, Learning the Art of the Ask, that I've been chewing on all day.
I love this idea, the art of the ask, because in my life I have been very timid, reluctant to ask or even to draw attention to myself. Fortunately, I had a great therapist who understood my vast sense of powerlessness and was the first one to lead me, ever so gently, into the land of the ask. Thank you, Nancy!
The Fat Ask
Many years later I entered the universe of size acceptance, where I learned a new angle on the art of the ask. My dear late friend Jeanne Toombs, whom I met at my first NAAFA convention in 2000, was kind enough to take some of us newbies with her to dinner one evening. When we arrived at the restaurant, without a moment's hesitation, Jeanne casually asked if we could have chairs without arms. Now, I've had my big back end bitten cruelly by many a chair that was made without me in mind, but it had never occurred to me in my wildest dreams to ask for a chair without arms. I thought everyone in that restaurant must have heard the big thud when my jaw hit the floor.
So just the ask totally blew me away. But then, even more astounding, was the response. The host smiled and said she'd get right on it. She didn't snarl or guffaw or roll her eyes or look disgusted. She didn't even act surprised or flustered. She responded as though this was the most reasonable request in the world. And, lo and behold, six chairs without arms appeared at our table. Neat trick!
Whole new worlds opened up for me in that moment. I have since then asked-without a hint of shame-to be given a seat belt extender, to be seated next to an empty seat on the plane, to sit wherever I know I'll be most comfortable. Underlying the art of the ask is the assumption that I'm entitled to the space I take up, that I'm entitled to ask for what I need, that I have nothing to be ashamed of, in spite of the myriad messages I get every day that I should be deathly ashamed of my body. The purveyors of that crap can just kiss my big beautiful fat ass!
Since then I have dreamed up more of the fat ask. When scheduled for surgery, I called the hospital to let them know that I weigh 350 pounds. I suspected, rightly, that my doctor would not have given them the heads-up on this. I'm sure it never even occurred to him. I didn't know what sort of accommodations would be needed, but I thought there might be a few. So when I arrived, I asked the nurse what adjustments had been made. The nurse very kindly told me that they had brought in a special bed (!) and had even verified that the toilet in my room would be strong enough to hold me. I was blown away. I so appreciated their looking out for me. Just imagine how awful it would have been to be fresh out of surgery and have the toilet you sit on not be stable enough. Horrors!
Again, there was no shame, no judgment, no derision-only kindness and concern along with an acknowledgment that I am not of average size and that some adjustments might be needed. As Michelle said in response to Havi's blog post, "You won't know if you don't ask."
The Big Ask
"You won't know if you don't ask." Sometimes, as in the above examples, the one whom you ask is another human being or an institution. But sometimes you can just launch the big ask out into the universe to see what will happen. The answer isn't always a resounding YES! but if it's not, it's usually better than yes. And it's always just what you need. You've heard that "when the student is ready, the teacher will appear." Asking is a very important way of becoming ready.
So here we are at the beginning of a new year. I am no longer waiting until I grow up to be a writer. Apparently I have grown up (at last!), as I have officially outed myself as a writer. I'm tired of editing other people's writing, which is a lot like being a spotter on the playground. I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm so eager to do my own writing, and I am in fact doing it right this instant. My inner writer has unleashed herself on the world (well, in cyberspace anyway), and she's not going back underground until the whole rest of me cashes it in. OK, that's not the ask. That's the do. Now for the really big ask.
I have never made all that much money as a freelance copyeditor, and in fact I have often described myself as having a flair for not making any money (hah-hah). Fortunately my husband has been more adept at making money than I have been. We are reasonably well off and not in financial straits. By the world's standards, we are very well off indeed, and I am very grateful. But I would like to, uh, earn a living. (Can you hear my voice getting smaller here?)
I would like to earn a living. By writing.
OK, OK!
I would like to earn a living!
By writing!
(She pushes her request out into the universe in what feels like an unbelievable act of hubris).
There it is. The Big Ask. I don't just want to do this for fun. I would like to do it for money. Not in a drudgy sort of way. I want to write what I feel passionately about. I want to write authentically, honestly-for money. Hoo-boy. I don't have the foggiest notion of how to go about doing that, but I'm putting it out there anyway. Just in case the universe decides to answer with a resounding "YES!"
I love this idea, the art of the ask, because in my life I have been very timid, reluctant to ask or even to draw attention to myself. Fortunately, I had a great therapist who understood my vast sense of powerlessness and was the first one to lead me, ever so gently, into the land of the ask. Thank you, Nancy!
The Fat Ask
Many years later I entered the universe of size acceptance, where I learned a new angle on the art of the ask. My dear late friend Jeanne Toombs, whom I met at my first NAAFA convention in 2000, was kind enough to take some of us newbies with her to dinner one evening. When we arrived at the restaurant, without a moment's hesitation, Jeanne casually asked if we could have chairs without arms. Now, I've had my big back end bitten cruelly by many a chair that was made without me in mind, but it had never occurred to me in my wildest dreams to ask for a chair without arms. I thought everyone in that restaurant must have heard the big thud when my jaw hit the floor.
So just the ask totally blew me away. But then, even more astounding, was the response. The host smiled and said she'd get right on it. She didn't snarl or guffaw or roll her eyes or look disgusted. She didn't even act surprised or flustered. She responded as though this was the most reasonable request in the world. And, lo and behold, six chairs without arms appeared at our table. Neat trick!
Whole new worlds opened up for me in that moment. I have since then asked-without a hint of shame-to be given a seat belt extender, to be seated next to an empty seat on the plane, to sit wherever I know I'll be most comfortable. Underlying the art of the ask is the assumption that I'm entitled to the space I take up, that I'm entitled to ask for what I need, that I have nothing to be ashamed of, in spite of the myriad messages I get every day that I should be deathly ashamed of my body. The purveyors of that crap can just kiss my big beautiful fat ass!
Since then I have dreamed up more of the fat ask. When scheduled for surgery, I called the hospital to let them know that I weigh 350 pounds. I suspected, rightly, that my doctor would not have given them the heads-up on this. I'm sure it never even occurred to him. I didn't know what sort of accommodations would be needed, but I thought there might be a few. So when I arrived, I asked the nurse what adjustments had been made. The nurse very kindly told me that they had brought in a special bed (!) and had even verified that the toilet in my room would be strong enough to hold me. I was blown away. I so appreciated their looking out for me. Just imagine how awful it would have been to be fresh out of surgery and have the toilet you sit on not be stable enough. Horrors!
Again, there was no shame, no judgment, no derision-only kindness and concern along with an acknowledgment that I am not of average size and that some adjustments might be needed. As Michelle said in response to Havi's blog post, "You won't know if you don't ask."
The Big Ask
"You won't know if you don't ask." Sometimes, as in the above examples, the one whom you ask is another human being or an institution. But sometimes you can just launch the big ask out into the universe to see what will happen. The answer isn't always a resounding YES! but if it's not, it's usually better than yes. And it's always just what you need. You've heard that "when the student is ready, the teacher will appear." Asking is a very important way of becoming ready.
So here we are at the beginning of a new year. I am no longer waiting until I grow up to be a writer. Apparently I have grown up (at last!), as I have officially outed myself as a writer. I'm tired of editing other people's writing, which is a lot like being a spotter on the playground. I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm so eager to do my own writing, and I am in fact doing it right this instant. My inner writer has unleashed herself on the world (well, in cyberspace anyway), and she's not going back underground until the whole rest of me cashes it in. OK, that's not the ask. That's the do. Now for the really big ask.
I have never made all that much money as a freelance copyeditor, and in fact I have often described myself as having a flair for not making any money (hah-hah). Fortunately my husband has been more adept at making money than I have been. We are reasonably well off and not in financial straits. By the world's standards, we are very well off indeed, and I am very grateful. But I would like to, uh, earn a living. (Can you hear my voice getting smaller here?)
I would like to earn a living. By writing.
OK, OK!
I would like to earn a living!
By writing!
(She pushes her request out into the universe in what feels like an unbelievable act of hubris).
There it is. The Big Ask. I don't just want to do this for fun. I would like to do it for money. Not in a drudgy sort of way. I want to write what I feel passionately about. I want to write authentically, honestly-for money. Hoo-boy. I don't have the foggiest notion of how to go about doing that, but I'm putting it out there anyway. Just in case the universe decides to answer with a resounding "YES!"