Monday, I walked to the store for some of the essential components of my continuing existence (IE, 'salad greens' and 'strawberries'). I was wearing my usual jeans, which fit just fine, thanks, and a tank top with broad enough straps to cover my bra (not all my tank tops fit into this category). So relatively relaxed, but still decent, attire
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I was on that list for over a decade, and I was on that list and fat for almost all of that time (since, if we're going strictly by BMI, I've been other than fat for less than two months). That means I have ten years of experience discussing dealing with fat issues, advising people on places to find comfy clothing, the best ways to handle a convention, looking good at any size, etc. Ten years. And all of this is, apparently, invalidated by a number.
It blows my mind. Completely. And it's the reason that acceptance movements run into issues -- when you keep forcing 'us vs. them', you lose a lot of people who would have been happy to be a part of 'us', but are now religated to 'them'.
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*hugs you*
*sigh* Why is it people sometimes think `support group' and `exclusive grade school club' are mutually interchangeable terms?
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Arrgh.
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I'm not nearly as pessimistic as he was...but he was right.
*HUGS*
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Many hugs, dear Seanan. But when the Judgment Day comes, and the Cool are rewarded, and the Not Cool are smited, you, my friend, will live happily ever after with first edition mint copies of every My Little Pony ever, while the Frat Boys shall have to drive stick on the Garden State Parkway in Friday rush hour traffic FOREVER.
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