Flicking through FM radio this morning, while driving to the gym, I hear two DJ’s talking about a Twitter survey they had just conducted. “If you had to take a long car ride with someone, who would you LEAST want it to be?” The first nine answers they received were, “My mother.” One tweeter elaborated: because she “always talks at me, instead of watching the road.”
I am standing in line for the “family bathroom” at Southgate Mall, waiting to use the nursing chair. Although I am pretending to be relaxed—chatting with the mother of a one-month old son—I am in fact terrified. Are there any feminists about? I scan the crowd for the tell-tale signs of bra-less tits, angry fists raised in the air, and armpit hair. Continue reading
Going for a walk? Count your steps. Going for a coffee? There’s an app to capture caffeine intake. We can monitor our personal activity as never before. The clever wags are calling it “the biometric selfie”. Whatever you call the phenomenon it is clear, we have an itch to count and measure what we accomplish and how we live. Continue reading
Yesterday I received an e-mail from some antiabortion guy, asking me to have an expose of so-called “crisis pregnancy centres” removed from the internet. How flattering that he identified me as an all-powerful pro-choice goddess. Continue reading
There were no secret reservations. So many lovely people attended the wedding of my best friend and her beloved. I met a great guy. I spent time with old friends. I made new friends like Dave and Sally. They had been married for seven years. Dave and Sally seemed quiet, somewhat reserved at first and then this gradually transitioned into more relaxed, banter-filled interactions. I usually judge comfort with people based on the amount of shared stories or tagline-jokes. I was a fan of Dave’s because he seemed funny; Sally’s because she said the wrong things at the worst times—and she wore the cutest dress to the wedding!
Imagine my shock when later in the evening I found Dave’s hand on my ass. Continue reading
You might already know that I am a habitual and possibly obsessive list maker. I have at least three lists in my purse at any one time, as well as a master agenda for the month on my desk at home. I like to write these lists by hand as an aid to memory, but many remain in my head, constantly shuffled and reshuffled: Who is due for a dinner invitation? What provisions are currently in my kitchen? What books should I read next? What are the top five best moments of my life? Etc. Continue reading
Hey D! I just read your last post on Lianne’s blog about belly fat. Now there is an issue that is near and dear to my heart. I had an idea for another topic, although I’m sure you already have thousands; it is something I’ve always wanted to know: “Do you need to exercise for more than 30 minutes at a time to burn fat?” There are so many different time saving exercise programs out there now, like Tabata, 20 minute interval training etc. As a busy mom, I’m intrigued by this concept of the shorter workout, but am not sure that it would actually burn fat.
Everyone told me that having a baby would change my priorities. That turned out to be somewhat true. Yes, my son is of primary concern, but he has shuffled rather than replaced other interests. Now that my time is tighter than ever—I have always multi-tasked and had too much to do—I have begun noticing which activities remain important in my life, and which ones have been discarded with the excuse that I am “too busy.” You will not be surprised to learn that fitness remains near the top of my list. Yet I was surprised by some of my choices. Below is an accurate list of things that are important to me, and things that no longer make the grade. This confession is based on my actions rather than on any idealized vision of myself. After all, I think that hopes and dreams count for shit. You are what you do and have done, not what you say you are or what you plan to do in the future.
It’s hard not to get upset when you start back at the gym after a prolonged period away. I was off for two full months while recovering from a caesarean section, forbidden by my doctor from lifting anything over ten pounds. I was inclined to follow his advice after reading online descriptions of post-partum women who had ripped their stomachs open by training too soon after surgery. Although I had worked out seriously until I was 8 months pregnant, and then in a somewhat lame-ass way until two days before giving birth, I was shocked by how quickly my fitness level declined. Previously I had done shitloads of full chin-ups, but now I am back on the assisted pull-up machine, managing five sets of five slowly with 50 pounds of weight counterbalancing me. And as for full push-ups? Forget it. I have returned to my knees. How the mighty have fallen. It is truly humiliating.
Fitbabe’s post about eating disorders has prompted me to think about patterns of food consumption, something of particular interest to me because these days I am food. Continue reading
How hard is that? Food is fuel silly.
If it were only that easy. I hate being hungry. I really hate being full. I am afraid of food. But food is fuel, right?
When people are afraid of food they have strange eating patterns. We will decide, for example, that there are six foods that are safe. At least, that is what I did. Continue reading
Pregnancy has not changed my life that much, so far. It has, however, attracted more than a few remarks from both acquaintances and strangers. My increasingly evident belly—I am scheduled to give birth by induction in only a few days—leads people to believe that they know something about me and my future. While I vowed not to blog too much about my “ladylike” pregnancy (i.e. it is conformist in a way that reminds me of Edwardian pantaloons), I have a few funny incidents that I cannot resist sharing with you. Continue reading
After attending two conferences in as many weeks, I have learned that strangers, especially white men, feel entitled to make unsolicited comments about women’s pregnant bodies.
These men can be from all walks of life – hotel staff, airplane travelers, and conference acquaintances. Yet no matter their position, when they see a pregnant woman working or traveling alone, their response is to (a) notice the woman’s belly; (b) make a remark about it; and (c) engage in unwelcome behaviour. Continue reading
This gallery contains 32 photos.
After finishing my book, which is now in the hands of external referees, I realized that many photographs—taken by the incomparable artist and designer Patrick J. Reed—could not be included in it. I think his images offer feminist interventions in the often heteronormative, … Continue reading
I have been thinking about this project for quite some time, and post here sections from the introduction to my book “Feminist Figure Girl,” written at the end of last year:
It is December 12, 2009, and I am at the gym, feeling euphoric. Continue reading