MrsFatass rocks the red carpet at Zumbathon

Yesterday, I learned that this piece on Shape.com went live. I, along with 7 other women, answered the question “how did Zumba change your life?”

I answered that question in about a zillion words, and that answer was boiled down to just a few, and as people always say when somebody writes down what they think they said – I don’t love the quote. But I do love the message – Zumba has changed my life.

I got a lot of questions yesterday like this one: What is it about Zumba that changed things for you? Was it the exercise itself? Making you feel better about your body and thus yourself as a whole? etc.?

You’d think I could spout off eloquent answers to this kind of question without even thinking about it. I’ve written here many times about my promises to myself. Do cardio, see my doctor, wear a bikini. And I’ve written about the different ways that music has held me up when I’ve wanted to lay on the floah.

But I fumbled through long, wordy answers all day.

Here’s what it is about Zumba. I found a kind of exercise that makes me not dread doing it. I do a lot of different things to get exercise that I like okay – TurboKickMyAss, Spinning, Walking – but I still had to fight the sit on my sofabuttdentwatchingBravo demons in order to get there.

Zumba drew me in with music, and music is what keeps me there. I’m sure I could get on The Google and find some scientific information about music therapy or something, but I don’t really care. It’s my own experience that matters most to me right now. Music was the bridge between me doing exercise just to try to get in shape and me really loving what I do enough to do it consistently, and to push myself to become stronger. And it truly exercises my crazybrain. I crank up the volume, and in 15 tracks a class can work out the rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions and worries and stresses that I hang on to every day.

Especially the irrational ones. That’s the kicker. Anxiety is an irrational response to a situation. Whether the stress or fear is real or perceived makes no difference. And something about the marriage of the music and the exertion helps me let go of all of that. And makes me tired enough to sleep.

I stumbled into my first class so long ago simply because I knew I liked to dance, and now I walk taller and smile more genuinely and feel more sexy and get to go dancing at least 5 times a week. And I get to encourage an inspire other people to do so. I love that.

So. That’s what I wish I could have said. I can’t stop being blown away that I am actually part of a feature about how Zumba changes lives. Because I’m living proof that it can. Zumba, or any passion you uncover. I’m very thankful.

Don’t forget tonight’s TwitterChat about the Georgia Billboards from 9-10pm EST. Don’t know what I’m talking about? Click through #Ashamed, Still #Ashamed, and all the links therein. It will be a good conversation!

I am searching for you!

So, I’m sitting at work a couple of weeks ago, and I hear an email notification on my phone. And then another. And another. And it kept happening in burst for a couple of hours. Out of the blue, I’m getting a stream of comments on my first #ashamed post. And email. Hoo boy the email. So I took a look at my analytics to see what was going on with the traffic and figured out pretty quickly that HLN.com ran a story about the Georgia obesity ads and our response to them. And it just so happened that a quote from my post was among the links in the piece.

Then a little while later? Another burst. And I quickly deciphered that one was because we spent some time on the front page of CNN.com as well. And then this whole scenario repeated again last week when it was a feature on The O’Reilly Factor.

We “mom bloggers” virtually high fived for a while. Some of us did more press. We felt pretty psyched to have generated some buzz. But what comes next? What good is 23 million impressions on Twitter if it doesn’t lead to something?

Well, one thing we can do is to keep talking. Because regardless of what side of the debate you happen to be on, the fact that we are debating at all means that this very important topic is being discussed. And I don’t think anyone is denying that childhood obesity is indeed an important topic.

In the HLN article, they quoted one line of my post (and it was referred to in the O’Reilly spot as well), and it seems to be a line that is at the heart of the matter of the Georgia ad campaign: shame is no motivator. Lots of comments agreed with me, and a quick trip on the Google machine pulled up a slew of articles that support the notion that in children, shame leads to damaging behaviors, like for example disordered eating.

Many people also made interesting points about the fact that it is the absence of shame that is actually at the root of this (and many other) problem. That if more people felt shame about their weight, they would lose it. Even Gretchen Carlson, former Miss America – Stanford grad – now a morning news anchor supports this campaign. Admittedly a “chubby kid” herself, she said that the thing that keeps her “somewhat fit” is “personal responsibility.”

And I’d love to take issue with the asinine notion that we are to hold children personally responsible for their weight (there is a reason we don’t teach quantum physics to first graders – they aren’t capable of that kind of information yet) (and we don’t charge them as adults when they commit a crime) (but we think they should somehow be able to process the shame they feel or are made to feel and turn that into a healthier diet and exercise plan for themselves or their family) (asinine) I stand by my point that this is a bad ad campaign simply because it is a bad ad campaign. It is all shock and no value. It is unclear to me whether they are trying to target the obese kids themselves, or the parents who are feeding them, or the schools with the vending machines, or the food industry who makes lean meats and healthy produce cost more than cheeseburgers from McDonalds. I mean, who is it that this ad is speaking to?

And once that whole question is sorted out, then ask what the ad is providing. What’s the value? To me, it is insulting people for making bad choices. And insults lead to arguments, not meaningful conversation. I mean, we’re all talking about it, but we kind of already were talking about it. We are the choir in this scenario. I’m curious to know not only who the target is, but what the target is saying. Are they having meaningful dialogue about the issue of childhood obesity? Are they learning how to live better?

We all have our stories about our own experiences with being overweight, and we all have some kind of emotional reaction to these ads. But putting that emotion aside for just a minute, I want to ask Georgia to ditch these ads because they stink. Because they insult the people they are trying to help, and it seems like they are stimulating conversation among those of us who were already talking. As both a woman with my own struggles with my weight over the years AND a parent who tries to keep her kids healthy and active, I understand all to well the difficulty of this debate. There are so many reasons people are overweight and they all work in concert. While it may boil down to eating more than we burn, we wouldn’t have a gazillion dollar diet and fitness industry if it were truly that easy. There are enough real, meaningful pieces of this puzzle we could be trying to discuss and improve without demeaning people’s choices.

Okay. So the point of still #ashamed is this: it’s not enough just to point out a problem, we have to help solve it. So we’re going to keep talking and writing and tweeting to come up with some alternative suggestions about how to help people help these kids. For me, I know that the biggest reason I make less than healthy choices is budget. It’s hard to stretch a healthy dollar. So I can only imagine that people who have a tougher life than me – someone with less money, less support, more mouths, whatever – has an even harder time figuring out how to buy healthy food. I’d love to see billboards of the “eat this, not that” variety with clear, simple messages about how to make small improvements at the grocery store.

What about you? Join me and a bunch of other amazing people on Twitter THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 16th at 9PM EST for another Tweetversation about #ashamed. Let’s keep talking until we figure this one out.

It’s been four months.

Most days I feel like the only one still struggling. Even though I get up and go to work and laugh and dance. Even though on the outside I look like everything is as it should be, on the inside four months isn’t long enough to put it all away.

Over the weekend I was thinking about a story I wrote a while back. Just a House. It was a story about how the colors of my home – the one I left behind in Michigan – told the story of my family. Of my life. When we moved in every wall was painted a dirty yellow, and room by room I added the color. Bold Cayenne, warm Tangerine, soft Babygirl Pink, intense Granny Apple green. And if somebody cared to decipher them, they would know me. They would know us.

Then I looked around this house. I’ve been meaning to paint the walls for a year – and even have paint samples hanging in every room – but I never felt like I had the time before to actually purchase a can of paint and get started on a wall. But this house? Doesn’t look like me. Because I am not a blank canvas. I am full of color and spice. And I decided that I just couldn’t effing stand one more day in a house with rented, dingy white walls.

Even the paint samples I picked out a year ago looked dingy. And depressing. So I started fresh. I chose Sassy Green. Sassy really needs no explanation, right? And green? Well. Green is spring and new and healthy and growing. And I spent my Saturday in my Betty Boop boyshorts and a tank top with my iPod set on shuffle drinking a beer and painting the kids bathroom.

Wanna see?

  before
i painted in a butterfly

i wasnt kidding about the underwear
the green started creeping through the room
taking over the white
becoming a chapter in my story
the chapter that deals with me learning to exist in my new normal

Sometimes in order to make a fresh start you have to make everything look different on the outside first. The change on the inside will eventually follow.

So, you know how I have this ridiculously talented filmmaker friend? Well, guess what? I also have a ridiculously talented music making friend. Blogosphere? Meet Jenny B. This is us when we were sophomores in college:

Me in the back. Jen in the front. Our third muskateer, Trish, is in the middle.

And here she is playing music in my wedding:

Jen and her guitar. You have no idea how many memories I have of her holding her guitar.

Jen and I met in high school when we both went to a performing arts camp one summer, and eventually went to the same acting school for college and shared an apartment right next door to the El. And every few minutes a train would go by and the walls would rattle a bit and you’d either have to stop talking or yell at the top of your lungs.

Then we moved on and she got married and a few years later I got married. And we became immersed in our own lives but were the kind of friends who could talk every so often and pick right up where we left off. We talked on the phone on September 10, 2001. She was living in Brooklyn at the time. The next day she’d watch the smoke and ash rise over New York City.

As you can see, Jen is pretty. But she’s also got that kind of beauty that comes from way down deep inside. She’s soulful and insightful and she is also strong. I knew this when we were kids, and I’m sure of it now. Jen emailed me last week and asked me if I’d tell you all about her most recent project and in swapping some messages I learned that she was recently diagnosed with Lyme Disease and has been quite sick. She’s a mom of three boys and a wife as well as an artist, and she’s pretty much felt like ass for a year. But she didn’t give up on the CD, and even as she felt awful she made beautiful music. “My 10 year old hugged me and said mommy look at what you did while you were really sick. I’m proud that I’ve shown them that though you don’t choose your circumstances you can still choose your moments within them” she wrote to me. And I am so proud of her.

So click this link and give her songs a listen and if you are so moved, pick up a copy of her CD. I know that I love having music around that I can listen to with my kids that is actually pretty and intelligent and enjoyable for all of us. And if you’d do me a solid and maybe share the link on Twitter or Facebook, we’d both really appreciate it.

Jenny B | After Rain | CD Baby.

Dear Thing One:

I can’t even believe it’s time to write you another birthday letter. When I kiss you goodbye tomorrow you’ll be my 8 year old, and when you come back to my wide open arms on Monday you’ll be a whole year older. Your last single digit age.

I look at you with your goofy crooked front tooth and your adorable longish hair that you like to flip and still see that sweet baby that used to love to dance to the theme song to Dallas. The kid who, at 4, told the pretty next door neighbor you were 7 because you wanted to impress her. The boy I covered in balloons one Halloween, making you go out dressed as a bunch of grapes when you would have much rather been a football player.

I can still see the baby in you when you’re sleeping, snuggled into the fleece blanket that you’ve dragged around your whole life. I slip into your room to wake you up in the mornings, and have to take a minute to just watch your chest move up and down like I used to do when you were a little baby burrito nestled in my arms as I rocked you to sleep at night. I can still hear the creak of the floor as we went back and forth and back and forth. And I would slow down bit by bit, thinking you were finally out, but just as soon as I’d start to lift you into your crib your eyes would fly open. And you would smile at me.

And we’d have to start all over again.

This year I’ve watched you grow out of so many of your baby fears. You like going on sleepovers. You can spend an entire weekend away from me now. And you no longer demand I turn on a night light. You jump into the deep end of the pool and you ride your bike in the street and you go knock on your buddy’s front door without me walking you over there to do all the talking for you.

And you read chapter books and can multiply and already know more about football and basketball than I ever will. You follow players more than you do teams, and you aren’t so easy to brainwash into being loyal to my favorites anymore. You’re your own boy with your own opinions, and I need to remember sometimes when ours are clashing that I should sit back and just listen. Because you are incredibly smart and well spoken and I know I’ve said this before, but I’m quite convinced that there is a writer in there somewhere.

Sometimes I take advantage of that old soul of yours and treat you like you’re more grown up than you really are. I’m sorry, Thing One, that you’ve had to see Mommy cry. That you’ve heard your parents argue. That you’ve known something was wrong. Your Daddy and me, we’ve wanted so much to protect you from the things that have caused us turmoil, and I know that sometimes we’ve failed. We love you fiercely, and I hope in your heart you feel that. I think you do.

This year you suffered through your first agonizing crush on a movie star, had your first real falling out with a friend, and gotten your first letter grades on a report card. You also got in your first real fight while protecting your sister. All in all, I’d say you’re right on track.

And after request after request after request for a baby brother, I finally responded. Much as I’d like to give you one, it’s not going to happen. But I think you’ll be happier with your puppy than you would really be with another sibling. Even a puppy that farts all the time and occasionally tries to hump you.

It will be hard not to be with you on your actual birthday, but I know you’ll be surrounded with love. And I’ll be here when you get back to do it all again. Happy Birthday, Doodlebug. Mommy loves you.

I know I’m not supposed to like this ad.

I’m not supposed to like it for a many reasons. Google “Georgia Childhood Obesity Ad Campaign” and you’ll be able to click for an hour through articles and posts that will explain that this ad exploits children. Potentially sets overweight kids up for more ridicule or even bullying from peers who see these billboards every day. And lots and lots of talk about how this campaign covers these children in shame.

I agree that shame is no motivator.

But the biggest reason why I don’t like this ad campaign? Is because it just isn’t a very good ad campaign.

This is part of some greater effort called “Stop Sugarcoating it, Georgia” designed to shock parents into realizing that childhood obesity is indeed a problem (there is some statistic they are using about the enormous percentage of parents who just don’t realize this fact). Okay. I can get behind a lack of sugarcoating. I mean, not only am I a frequent user of words like ‘fat’ and ‘diet’, I call myself MrsFatass for frick’s sake. But SHOCK is only half of the equation; there also has to have VALUE to be meaningful. And I don’t see the value in this. This campaign has alienated its target. And in making the point, put children in the crossfire.

Kids are never acceptable collateral damage. And if even one child looks at that billboard and is made to feel ashamed of themselves, even if one child references those images while teasing another, well, I think that’s too much. Don’t you?

And really, this issue doesn’t really belong to the kids, it belongs to the people feeding them. So, ask yourself if this campagin reaches those people. If a person said something to me about the size of my kid while we were standing in a buffet line (to loosely reference one of the messages), learning about better nutritional options wouldn’t be what I’d be wondering about – I’d be trying to decide whether to punch you in the nose or punch you in the junk. I mean, right? Insults are conversation ENDERS not conversation STARTERS.

So where’s the value in hurling an insult at a demographic you say you want to engage?

I find this campaign to be devoid of any compassion, and one thing I know for a fact is that obesity – be it in children or adults – is an emotionally charged issue that demands it. The organization that created these pieces has stated that this is the first phase of a multi-layered rollout. And basically, the compassion comes in later phases. But they already lost me. And I know I’m not the only one.

If this speaks to you at all, then go read this post and click through the links. And should you be moved to act, let your opinion be heard. Take to your Twitter and your Facebook and let the creators know what you think. And join us Friday night for a Twitter chat from 9-10 PM EST using the hashtag #ashamed.

I have a terrible case of it right now. Lots of things simmering, but nothing coming to fruition yet. When I get like this I usually try to find some prompt to get me writing about something, just to get things moving again. I saw a couple of bloggers playing 20 questions, so here goes.

1. Mac or PC? Both.

2. Do you paint your own nails? I do. And sometimes I get them done. I love having nice, manicured nails and waxed eyebrows. I also do my own pedicures because I am painfully ticklish and don’t really let anyone touch my feet. I think these little details are important and sexist as it sounds, I truly believe a girl always ought to look her best.

3. Beach or mountains? No question, beach. Looking out over the endless ocean, salty skin, that feeling like the waves are still hitting you even after you come out of the water, the smell of suntan oil mixed with sweat, heat on your face, and of COURSE wearing a bikini. Heaven on earth.

4. What’s the title of the book you’re currently reading? Blindness by Jose Saramago. It’s a translation from Portuguese. You can tell it’s a translation and I like the mechanics of that. I also like the way the dialogue is all braided into the action. No quotes. And it’s a dark little story that really fits my mood.

5. Do you dance? Of course. Zumba, yes. But also Fonzie like slow dances with whispersinging in my ear. And I dance at work all the time to the music that is piped in. I love to move, and more than an endorphin addiction, I love it when people who say they are NONdancers come to my class. I’m good at helping them dance their ass off and totally love it when they end up remembering that they are indeed sexy as hell.

6. CNN or Fox News? Yes please. I watch them all. I ingest cable news (and ESPN) the way Garfield ingests lasagna. I used to love flipping back and forth between all of them on Sunday morning best. While I read the newspaper cover to cover. I don’t do that much anymore, but I do love the news.

7. Do you ride a bicycle? Nope. I don’t even do spin class anymore. I’ve wanted a beach cruiser for a long time but haven’t gotten around to getting one.

8. Do you get a yearly flu shot? Nope. I always say I should. But I never do.

9. Best movie you’ve seen in 2012? Another thing I don’t do as often as I used to is watch movies. In 2012 I have watched an entire season of Dexter in a day and For Colored Girls. The first I enjoyed because Dexter kicks ass. The second I enjoyed because I needed a good cry, but the play is far better than the film.

10. Do you prefer to workout at home or at the gym? Always the gym. Except that working in one becomes the kiss of death because I never want to stick around and exercise. If I wasn’t teaching Zumba, I probably never would.

11. Last airport you were in? I don’t know. The last one I was at was in DC dropping somebody off.

12. iPhone or Android? Android. Sidekick named Buck (or, full name “what the f%#$ Buck) that I love, but drives me crazy. It has all these little quirks, like I’ll think I’m sending a text to one person, but it will actually go to another. I’ve embarrassed myself more than once with this.

13. Do you prefer to be in pictures or taking pictures? Both. But mostly I like combing pictures for details. Body language. Information. Whose hands are on each other. Who keeps theirs folded away or hidden in pockets. Who leans in, who pulls back. I love to study a photo and write the backstory.

14. Favorite brand of sneakers? New Balance, baby. For running, for walking, for Zumba. My latest pair of New Balance cross trainers are about done and I MUST. GET. MORE.

15. Do you like snow? I like the idea of snow. I like pictures of it in tree branches. I like the kind of snow we get here that lasts for a day or two then disappears. I like the quiet, early morning snow when it’s still dark out and you’re the only one awake drinking coffee and reading. I like big fat flakes falling gently. But I don’t like the gray dirty snow of a place that has hard long winters. I’d rather miss it than live in it.

16. Do you have/want to have kids? I have children. I wanted more. But I’m done.

17. Summer or Winter? Summer. Heat and sweat and tan lines and bare feet and bikinis. I love opening the car door and feeling the heat pour out. Having to touch the steering wheel with just your fingertips until the AC cools it down. I love feeling the sweat pool in the small of my back while I’m messing around in the garden. I love the feel of my cheeks when they get a little bit pink. I love that it stays light until bedtime. I love being on the beach all day, turning my chair every few hours to follow the sun, then watching it fade into dusk.

18. Do you know how to swim? I do. But I prefer just to float. Or stand. Or get pelted by the waves.

19. Do you prefer to shop in store or online? Online. I hate shopping in a store.

20. Why do you blog? Because, after almost 3 years, I don’t know how not to.

I read something yesterday that I just can’t shake.

I’ve read her blog for probably five years or so. She’s been writing it for more than ten. I’ve read every word. She’s got a lot of fans, and she’s got a fair number of haters. I’m not a hater. I personally think taking a little event like getting fired for blogging nasty things about the company you work for and launching it into a blog that a gazillion people read, whose adspace pays the mortgage on your big fancy new house and allows you and your husband to work from home, that has lead to book deals and a show on HGTV is pretty damn cool.

Some people say, though, that her popularity comes basically from pimping out her family. Her kids and her parents and her husband and her struggle with depression and such. (Seriously, sounds like MY blog. WHERE’S MY BOOK DEAL?) and over and over she is asked to explain why she feels good about publishing such personal details. And what will her kids think one day? And what kind of a toll is this taking on her relationships? And her marriage?

She wrote yesterday about her separation from her husband, kind of announcing it in her own way, and I realized then she’d been alluding to it for a while. She wrote about her pain with such beauty. And I was moved.

Sometimes that kind of openness makes people uncomfortable. I know I’ve experienced that here. Whether it be about being in the ER with butt problems, or being so completely depressed that I ended up on the floah with people around me afraid that I wouldn’t get up, I know that people have had to avert their eyes from my blog from time to time. I know there are people who think I should stick to the funny stuff. I know there are people who think I share too much.

And I know there are people who think I don’t say enough.

I know that for the last three months I’ve written in allusions. I’ve thrown out some puzzle pieces here and there, and some of them fit while others don’t. I’ve got my own collection of comments or emails of the “what the eff? I thought this was a funny weight loss blog! Stop the pity party!” variety. And at the same time I’ve gotten a lot of support. And love. And appreciation for making others feel not so alone or ashamed.

I don’t know what my point is supposed to be, except to say that I’m sad about the separation of Heather and Jon. Stories like this affect me differently than they would have a few months ago, and even though I’ve been no more than a lurker on her blog, I’ve still laughed and cried and related to her for a long time. And I get why she writes the way she does, and it has something to do with why I write the way I do. Without having all of the words to explain it, something in my heart understands the need to put fingertips to keyboard, knowing the whole time I’m going to hit publish and send my personal life out into the blogosphere. Something about being so imperfect and so flawed and so fucked up sometimes, but not feeling the need to mask it from the world. Doing it for myself, yes, but also on behalf of people who can’t. Like flipping a collective, giant bird to that part of all of us that tries to make us ashamed of who we are or what we’ve done.

That’s why. I guess I did have the words.

Super busy this week. Like, super. But I have had time to induldge in one of my favorite pastimes – watching infomercials. Happened to catch the one on Brazil Butt Lift. In the past few days I’ve had more conversations about this set of DVDs than I’ve had about the fact that Fitbloggin tickets went on sale. So I finally watched the infomercial. One of the best infomercials ever, in my opinion, and LOTS of before and after shots of peoples booties. But the best part is the Leandro’s accent. He says “poosh, poosh. That’s zeh secret to a sexy boom boom.”

I’m so ordering it. Anyone else making over their boom boom with this video?