Obesity Isn’t

I’ve received a fair number of troll comments in response to this post. (I’m explicitly not referring to any comments that were published there but rather the ones I deemed unfit for publication on my blog.) Not only were these comments hateful, but most of them appeared to be operating on an inaccurate understanding of the word obesity. Which, if there’s one thing in the world I don’t like, it’s hateful misinformation. (If there are two things I don’t like, it’s hateful misinformation and pickles, but as pickles seem to be content to live and let live, I’ll focus my attention on the first.)

According to the World Health Organization, obesity is having a body mass index equal to or greater than 30, where body mass index is a height-weight ratio “defined as the weight in kilograms divided by the square of the height in metres.”

In other words, it is a measure of weight as a function of height.

It is not a measure of percent body fat.

It is not a measure of blood glucose, cholesterol, triglycerides, blood pressure, or resting heart rate.

It is not a measure of what I had for breakfast, what my daily food consumption looks like, or how many Big Macs I’ve had in the last week. (From what I know, Big Macs contain pickles in two places.)

It is not a measure of how often I work out or what my yoga practices are “really” like.

It is neither a measure of whether I’m lying when I talk about running three miles nor a reason “why [I] should just stay out of the gym entirely, so people don’t have to look at [my] rolls of fat.”

It is not a measure of my strength, endurance, or flexibility.

It is not an excuse to keep me where you don’t have to look at me.

It is not a way to silence me.

It is not a signal that “Jesus stopped loving [me] a long time ago.” (Really? Really? Certain trolls might want to invest in beta readers. Just sayin’.)

It is not a reference point for my intellect, whether I’m “only deluding [my]self that yoga is actually exercise” or I’m “too stupid to understand all the damage [I'm] doing to [my] body” or “dumb enough to think that fat can be healthy.”

It is not a reflection of my hygiene.

It is not a sign that “no one will ever fuck [me]” or a good prediction point for whether I’ll “die alone.”

It is not an invitation to police my body.

It is not “gross.”

It is not a marker of lesser agency, humanity, or worthiness of respect.

And I realize that not everyone is comfortable with their body size, for reasons that may or may not be the result of healthy choices. But for me —

My body is the biceps that lower me into chaturanga time and again with precision and control.

It is the triceps hold me — against gravity — at length in down dog.

It is the dense thighs that give my warriors power.

It is the abdominals that let me reach for the sky in boat and to find length and balance in half moon.

It is the open hips and strong back that allow me to fly in grasshopper.

I cannot say to my self, in any seriousness, “I love you for what you are, but would you please be thin instead?”

I don’t expect that everyone wants my body, and that’s fine. But — in spite of its size or perhaps because of it — it’s pretty awesome just the same.

Thoughts on a Word: Focus

I hear it at the beginning of my practice: “Set an intention or focus.”

I hear it after a physically challenging vinyasa or standing series: “Come back and focus on your breathing.”

I hear it in standing balances: “Set a focus point to steady your body.”

The concept of focus is important to the physical, mental, and spiritual facets of yoga. Moreover, it’s a word I hear and use (whether I’m speaking or just thinking it) in practice all the time, in different contexts and for different purposes, so it makes sense to explore its meaning.

I’m not unfamiliar with this physics-based definition (such fond memories of high school and very tiny cannons):

a point at which rays (as of light, heat, or sound) converge or from which they diverge or appear to diverge; specifically : the point where the geometrical lines or their prolongations conforming to the rays diverging from or converging toward another point intersect and give rise to an image after reflection by a mirror or refraction by a lens or optical system

Though I am surprised Merriam-Webster lists it first. I’m used to seeing common use definitions listed first, so it made me wonder — what if this is really the most commonly used definition of focus?

It actually fits quite well with the way I conceptualize drishti, particularly in balance postures. For me, when I enter a balancing pose, whether it’s a standing balance or an arm balance, it’s not enough to select any non-moving point in front of me as my drishti (which is often how the concept has been taught and explained to me). Rather, my correct balance gaze is the one that’s in alignment with my center line in that pose, that’s at the place where the rays coming from the two sides of my shape would converge.

I think my yoga uses physics, which I suppose should not be shocking. Rather, I think the language of yoga uses the language of physics, which is more of a surprise to me.

Even more surprising, however, is that the science-y flavor of focus travels back with the word’s origins. In Latin, focus originally meant “hearth or fireplace” (or, metaphorically, “home”). At times, it was even used in reference to fire itself and is related to some Romance languages’ words for fire (in French, it’s feu, Italian fuoco, and Spanish fuego).

Astronomer Johannes Kepler is credited with first using focus to mean “a point of converging” in 1604. There’s some speculation as to why he chose this particular word, perhaps considering the hearth the symbolic converging point of the home or thinking of the burning point of a mirror or other lens.

In yoga, fire is often associated with manipura, the third chakra, located near the solar plexus. A healthy third chakra aids qualities such as motivation and willpower, which, while not synonymous with focus or intention, are instrumental in actually putting it into practice.

Similarly, instructors have often called this process of finding and returning to one’s focus before and after a meditative practice “centering” or “recentering.” This fits in with the common contemporary definition of focus too, but some of my favorite instructors and practices have ended with what they call “coming home” — It’s essentially the same thing, of course, returning to oneself and recentering at the end of a meditation, but “coming home” just sounds so nice. Maybe it’s just me as someone who’s lived away from my home for so long, but it’s really easy for me to focus on the feeling that phrase creates.

Note: Thoughts on a Word series is blatantly stolen — not even just “inspired” — from Autumn Whitefield-Madrano over at The Beheld. If you like the concept, you should definitely check her out.

Thoughts on a Word: Strength

Strength is the outcome of need.

– H.G. Wells, The Time Machine
via The Quotations Page

When I think of strength poses in yoga, I picture poses where the focus is on a large muscle group contraction. I see my quads burning in a long-held warrior II or both sides of my core working against gravity in navasana. I envision asanas where my instinct is to give a lot of active effort.

But effort isn’t necessarily the same thing as strength.

To be sure, strength’s Old English root strengþu means, “power, force, vigor, moral resistance,” which is pretty close to the meaning of effort. That said, the current definition has expanded to include the “capacity for exertion or endurance.” In other words, simply having the capacity for exertion — or force or vigor or effort — can be called strength, whether or not I’m actively calling on it at any given time.

(Strength also often encompasses more than just the physical, but we tend to have other words that address that more directly, so I am holding off.)

Does this change the mental imagery I associate with strength? A little, yes. I mean, I’m not going to stop thinking of vasisthasana as a strength pose simply because it does require a lot of active vigor and muscle contraction. But I do think it makes sense to expand my ideas about strength postures to include (among others):

• pigeon, because sitting with my hips as they first work through and then release tension is pretty much a lesson on “capacity for endurance.”
• hanumanasana, because the strength in my quads and glutes is what lets my hamstrings (in front) and hip flexors (in back) relax.
• bow pose, where judicious use of my arm strength perfectly illustrates the difference between a capacity for exertion and when it is wise to exert.

In yoga, we sometimes talk about the balance of sthira (effort) and sukha (ease). And maybe strength is the cultivating a capacity for both.

Note: Thoughts on a Word series is blatantly stolen — not even just “inspired” — from Autumn Whitefield-Madrano over at The Beheld. If you like the concept, you should definitely check her out.

Obesity Objection

I have been reading a lot this week, but one realization in particular struck me: The fat fear mongering, I am kind of over it.

A few of the specific readings in question:

• Plus-sized women: It’s our turn for fine fashion via Dances With Fat
• Fatties R Us: Washington obesity rate nearly doubles via Shakesville
• Can Plastic Make Us Fat? at Elephant Journal

What I am “over” is the baseline assumption that obesity is of course bad.

Allow me to back up a moment to clarify. I am not suggesting that obesity is never an indicator of underlying poor health. There are a number of fat people who are unhealthy, just as there are a number of thin people who are unhealthy. But just as there are a number of healthy thin people, there are also a number of healthy fat people.

Because of this, assuming that “fat” or “obese” is synonymous with “unhealthy” creates a false equivalency, and that really doesn’t help anyone.

For example, in “Can Plastic Make Us Fat?”, the author notes that in rat studies (just for right now, let’s pretend rats are people), “[e]xposure to a low dose of bisphenol A (BPA) while in the womb and while nursing may increase the risk of obesity and a suite of metabolic problems,” (emphasis mine). Metabolic problems definitely count as health conditions. However, as someone who’s had hyperthyroid issues in the past, metabolic problems do not always equal fat. Emphasizing the weight issue (e.g., “fat” is mentioned in the piece’s title, only weight concerns are mentioned in the first quoted paragraph, weight issues are mentioned more often overall than metabolic issues) implies that we should be concerned about BPA and other endocrine disruptors because OMG FAT.

OMG, no.

In terms of the plus-sized fashion article, there’s the quotation, “two out of three Americans are overweight or obese and in need of a good workout.” As Ragen and the commenters at Dances With Fat deconstructed, the big problem with the assumptions here is the implication that people who are overweight or obese don’t exercise. Because, you know, if they did, they wouldn’t be overweight or obese. Again, while I am sure there are fat people who do not exercise (just as I am sure there are thin people who do not exercise), equating “overweight or obese” with “in need of a good workout” dismisses the fat people who do engage in “a good workout” on a regular basis, rendering them invisible. And given that one of those people is me, yeah, I take that personally.

There’s also the quotation from Robin Givhan, saying, “How big is too big? The average person knows the difference between voluptuous and obese,” which is inherently negative and alienating. It suggests that “voluptuous” and “obese” are two non-overlapping categories and that voluptuous is desirable while obese is “too big.” As an obese person who also happens to be made of awesome, this false dichotomy makes no sense to me.

So, moving on.

In “Fatties R Us,” Jeff Levi, executive director of an advocacy group called Trust for America’s Health, is quoted as saying, “we can’t afford to ignore the impact obesity has on our health and corresponding health care spending.” Yes, it’s important to note public health issues, both from a health perspective and from a spending perspective, but it’s also important to realize that obesity is not always the root cause of ‘obesity-related’ health issues. The article’s author goes on to say, “Continuing an ongoing trend, obesity continued to afflict minorities and poor people at higher rates.”

Here’s the thing: Food deserts are real; I work in one. The majority of families in my school’s attendance boundaries do not have nearby access to anything like a grocery store, unless you count gas stations or Denny’s as something like a grocery store. There are also a fair number of families who do not have reliable car transportation to get them to anything like a grocery store. Many of them also live in neighborhoods that aren’t really conducive to outdoor activity and play, either because of vehicle traffic or because of local crime rates. If we’re going to talk about “How Obesity Threatens America’s Future” (a linked article inside “Fatties R Us”), we need to do it with the knowledge that a lot of factors that contribute to this “threat” are under societal rather than individual control.

And yes, I think we also need to do it with the understanding that some fat people are going to make healthy choices and will be fat anyway. That is not inherent poor health, nor is it anything to fear.

Thoughts on a Word: Fit

Quick Note: My Thoughts on a Word series is blatantly stolen — not even just “inspired” — from Autumn Whitefield-Madrano over at The Beheld. With Autumn’s knowledge, I will be adapting this idea to words that fit me and this blog, probably including those related to fitness, fatness, pain, and femininity.

I think I picked a hard one to start with: fit.

Hard because it has many functions in speech. To make it easier on myself, just for now, I’m going to limit it to fit used as an adjective.

Currently, I most often hear or read it in reference to someone who fits (pun not intended) the aesthetic ideal, namely, someone appears thin and well muscled. While the term does imply strength, flexibility, and endurance, I’ll be the first to admit that those concepts surface secondarily in my mind.

However fit as an adjective first appeared in the mid-15th century to mean “suited to the circumstances, proper”. It reminds me a lot, actually, of Leslie Kaminoff’s clip on flexibility:

In other words, fitness, like flexibility, is relative to what it is I intend to do. Being “fit” to run a half-marathon, if that is my goal, is different from being “fit” to participate in bi-weekly vinyasa classes, which may in turn be different from how “fit” I need to be to take my dogs for a walk every day. None of these goals is inherently more or less worthy than the others — and indeed, it’s probably possible to mix and match in accordance with various physical fitness goals.

But in all of them, intent matters.

Being “suited to the circumstances” is only anchored in relevant context if there are circumstances. And the circumstances need not be limited to Photoshopped media images, which is the mental picture to which my brain automatically defaults.

However, in the actual circumstances of my life, I spend exactly zero minutes per day looking at my airbrushed self in a magazine — nor do I really have any desire to do so. Same goes for running marathons, body building, or learning how to bend and twist myself into a pretzel. I do, on the other hand, have substantial interest in conditioning my body to be suitable for running lesser distances as well as to strengthen it and improve its flexibility to expand my asana practice — but only to the extent that these activities are fit for my own physical, mental, and emotional health.