Losing my Feminist Credentials

[bcholmes]

I'm not on the vanguard of size acceptance activism by any stretch of the imagination. I think I know a thing or two, having hung out now with a number of friends who are size acceptance activists.

But here's the thing. Recently, I joined a gym. I've been concerned, for a while, at just how sedentary a lifestyle I have and I thought it'd be groovy to get some exercise in my life. I'm now taking yoga at work again on Wednesdays, and I thought I'd go to the gym for exercise twice a week. Knowing just how exercise-ignorant I am, I even hired one of those trainer guys. No, really: I'm not going for weight loss. Just exercise. Heart pumping and all that.

A few days ago, my gym gave me a complementary "fitness assessment" and today I saw my trainer for the first time. And, um. The fitness assessment was incredibly degrading. Apparently I'm fat. So fat that the government (the government!) thinks I'm in the unhealthy range. Me, I know the counter-argument: even if that's true, it doesn't follow that trying to change my weight to the "healthy" range is going to change my healthiness. And, if anything, the scant research available suggests the opposite.

And I've talked about this stuff with other people. With cow-orkers, while sharing a one-on-one lunch over Chinese food. In a nice, safe environment where we can chat about it in a dispassionate, intellectual way. "Here's a concept to consider," I say, swishing my green tea and gesturing with my chopsticks.

But the people at the gym aren't engaging in comfortable, intellectual conversation. They're saying: "you're too fat, and you need to do these things." And they want to be believed that they know what they're talking about. And, remember that part about me not being on the vanguard of size acceptance activism?

It's a hard thing to figure out how to say, "Now hold on..."