When we talk about being fat-positive and we say, “weight is not an indication of health,” I will reblog it. But I want us to also say, “health is not an indication of value.”
I could be at any weight and I will never be healthy, because I am chronically ill. Someone might be chronically ill and fat, or they might be chronically ill and not fat, and it really doesn’t matter.
When you make it about health, you’re saying health is the pinnacle of human achievement, and you’re shitting on those of us for whom health will always be a pipe dream.
I don’t think this counts as dancing. Or even skipping really. It’s more of an exagerated waddle
So. Let me tell you about the day I took this video. It was the 1 year anniversary of my open heart surgery. It’s about a year old, and I’d say it’s pretty safe to say I’ve improved since then. In case you don’t agree, let’s take a look at some more at my exaggerated waddling.
Waddle.
Waddle waddle.
*rolls across the floor*
Clearly I am immobilized by my own mass.
Oh wait… that’s not it, is it? It sort of seems like the opposite. Almost as though the ability to dance is based on strength, effort and passion and not on being skinny. Strange concept I know, let’s see if you can wrap your tiny little mind around it.
not to mention she wasnt waddling at all.. That was clearly a jete, chasse, and assemble.. not waddling. ballet…
Yo. Professional ballerina speaking here.
Clearly she is performing a saute arabesque, chasse, step-step, assemble devant with arms in fifth.
And as a teacher too, I can’t find much technically wrong with it at all.
Which means not only is she a gifted dancer, she has a wonderful technical foundation that she is executing properly and with lovely mannerism.
Being a ballerina isn’t about how much you weigh. Give me this girl ANY day for a student or dancer to work with. Clearly she has the knowledge and the passion, which means she will be a joy to work with.
Also, for those of you criticizing, you clearly have NO idea how difficult it is to execute a develope ecarte derriere the way she is at the barre in one of her later photos. This takes YEARS of dedicated training, as well as extensive natural facility, such as turnout, which she clearly demonstrates here.
So maybe before you peons thinking you’re masters of ballet judge dancers based on weight, you should actually learn about ballet and technique. Because if you had, you’d recognize that this girl clearly has technique–unlike your basic asses.
This is me. I am fat. I am fit. And I am a badass, apparently.
I know whoever’s following me is here for art, but bear with me. This is important to me.
I’ve never seen myself portrayed as this cool fighter in the photo – so the fact that this is me, is a revelation to me. This photo was taken as part of an article about plus-sized women who work out for fun, not for weight loss. It’s an interesting article; it reviews recent scientific studies debunking myths about fat bodies, and includes interviews with 3 other women besides myself. It’s in Hebrew, though; here’s a LINK.
I started practicing in Abada Capoeira 4 years ago. All these four years, I’ve been constantly struggling with crippling insecurities and self doubt, every single practice. But my struggles are working out for me. It’s slowly sinking in, that being fat doesn’t stop me from doing anything – I stop me from doing things. After all, just like everyone else in western culture – I was taught that fat people can’t do things. And I’ve always been fat.
I’ve spent most of my life worrying about food, dieting, and forcing myself to exercise. It was clear to me that I, a fat person, could never take pleasure in sports, so I never sought out a pleasurable experience in my workouts.
At some point, I became sick of torturing my body and my brain with haunting thoughts about food, with my seesawing weight and the depression following the inevitable weight gain. And I decided to give up. I quit my gym subscription. I quit the weight watchers thing I had been part of. I just existed with my body and tried to be ok with it.
I wasn’t. My body’s always been a useless lump attached to my brain, holding me back. Giving up didn’t change that.
My best friend had started taking capoeira classes. He’d been raving about this awesome sport for a few months, about how nice and communal and friendly it was. How creative and fun. He made it sound awesome. And I decided I’d take a venture outside my comfort zone, and give it a shot. My friend was highly skeptical. He knew that I was a proud couch potato, knew how much I hated working out – and capoeira is an intense fucking workout!
But I tried it, and it was so hard, and so painful – but most of the time I didn’t even notice, because my big strong brain was getting a workout, too. And suddenly, I could do a one-handed cartwheel! I felt like a superhero!
My friend stopped going a short while after I had started. But I stayed. Not because I was forcing myself, not because I had a goal. I stayed because I just liked being there. I liked the process, I liked the progress, I liked the people, I liked the person it turned me into. I did it for fun.
And that’s my revelation for you guys – working out can be so much fun, even if you’ve always hated it. You just haven’t found the thing that engages you, yet. Get creative! Go outside your comfort zone! Try something no one expects from you! And forget about your dumb goals! Just have fun!
So now I’m still fat. And I’m finally cool with it.
Took me 30 years of living, but I’ve finally realized that my body isn’t a thing to be looked at. It’s a tool for me to use. A powerful tool. And it’s mine; I live inside of it.
And when I give it a chance – it never ceases to amaze and surprise me.
[image desc: 5 images of me, a nonbinary indian wheelchair user wearing a flower headdress, claw necklace, and black dress surrounded by flowers, skulls, and fruits. (1) me sitting in my wheelchair looking off into the distance (2) me laying down surrounded by moss, flowers, bones and fruit (3) me holding a pomegranate looking at the camera (4) me sitting on the floor with my arm resting on a draped stool (5) me in my wheelchair holding a skull and pomegranate]
Slutty Yorick 