Somehow it is still surprising when old patterns of thinking show their scary faces again. At least, I am pretty darn good at dealing with them.
Today, I was surprised at how thoughts on size that had nothing to even do with fat (our national obsession) could effect self-image. I am speaking of my feet. Maybe there are folks out there whose feet get fatter as the rest of them does, but this isn’t the case with me. My feet stay slender, but they are long. Normally, I fit into a size 9.5. Now, I know this isn’t the largest size out there, but it can still be difficult for me to find shoes that fit. Many stores stop around size 8 or 9.
While trying on some snow boots today, I was reminded how important a small shoe size was to me… as if I couldn’t possibly be feminine with feet any bigger than an 8.5. So, I’d cram my feet into shoes that didn’t fit and grit my teeth through all the blisters and cuts from shoes that were too small, but made all the difference to my body image to fit into.
I found a pair of boots that I liked, but could only find them in a size 11. On a whim, I decided to try them on anyway, because they looked like they might fit… and they did! There was even enough room in the toe to wear some extra thick socks to keep my feet warm in the freezing winters of Chicago. And… I remembered how in the past I would’ve been horrified to even consider trying on size 11 shoes. Fit didn’t matter. All that mattered was that number that was some feminity score or something. And, I know I’m not the only woman who has thought that way. Many still do, I’m sure.
It certainly IS sad enough that we obsess (as a culture) on fat so much, but I am reminded how we get messages every day on how tall we should be, how our hair should look, what kind of nose we should have and how big our lips should be. Trying to measure up to these standards can easily be a full-time job and there are so many more important things in life. How sad that I have spent so many years of my life worrying about the length of my feet!
It’s not even Christmas (in my experience the diets start at New Years, yes?) and the dieters have started visiting my cafe in hordes. A 200 calorie drink is a horror. Whip cream on a holiday latte is a crime! I am tired of being crabbed at by offering teeny sample cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream about how the one or two ounce drink is a meal unto itself. I am constantly tempted to remind these people that it is possible to say “no thank you” without giving me a 15 minute summary of their current diet efforts and how “evil” full fat treats are.
The holidays are about love and togetherness and all that… but how much of that is lost because the energy is instead funnelled into diet obsession and the moralizing of food.
Yesterday, hubby and I went to World Market… a store with, among other things, all sorts of foods (and many sweets – sweets are my fav) from all over the world. I found myself marvelling at how I didn’t want to buy every sweet thing I saw like I used to. Back in those days, I knew I could not possibly eat all the things I wanted to buy, but I couldn’t help myself from filling my basket and spending way more money than was necessary because I was so obsessed with the forbidden and “bad” foods. Instead, I just found three little things and was quite happy with those. Nothing else tempted me.
Then I think of these people who come to my cafe with their big eyes and compulsive appetites fueled by food moralizing and I feel very bad for them. It is usually women who I hear complaining that they’d want one of every pastry we sell, but they “must” restrict themselves to some low calorie choice, because they “need” to lose weight. Rather they are compromising their health with this obsession, when they could put this energy into so many better things…
–AngryGrayRainbows
Angry Gray Rainbows 
Love this entry and I’m so glad to see you back!!!!!!
Particularly loved this: “I am constantly tempted to remind these people that it is possible to say “no thank you” without giving me a 15 minute summary of their current diet efforts and how “evil” full fat treats are.”
I feel the same way. When I have my snacks at work or make candy to bring to the office, I’m constantly reminded about how sinful the candy is and how evil I am for subjecting them to such a thing. Oh. My. God. It’s just candy!!!!
I picture these little peanut clusters jumping out of the jar, onto the table with little spears and pitchforks, runing at full speed and heading right for their intended prey…my co-workers! hahahahaha Eat me or I’ll poke you!
I do, however, sympathize with these people who just don’t get it. I used to be the same way. Such horrible adjectives pinned on food, drink, and people who make food and drink! It takes a while to get to the point where food is not inherently evil and the people who make it, or even those who eat it, are not bound for hell.
Loved your thoughts on the size of the boot too! Just a great post all around. Thanks!
~sas
You might want to get your feet measured. I wore a 9-9.5 till I had a baby. Now I’m a size 11. I had no idea of it until the woman at the shoe store refused to sell me a pair of shoes until she measured my feet. Good thing. I felt embarrassed at first, but now I’m just happy to be wearing shoes that don’t hurt me. I never knew there was supposed to be at least half an inch between the big toe and the edge of the shoe. A lot of stores don’t carry size 11s, but I generally only buy really good quality shoes anyway, so I buy them online.
I thought I was the only one out there with weird size thoughts about my feet. I do it with hand/ring size, too.
I’d hate to be a restaurant or cafe worker around this time of year. Is fat the enemy again? I thought it was sugar this year. Or carbs. High fructose corn syrup? People are very strange about food and weight, and most of the weird attitudes won’t help them, will likely hurt them in the long run. Reminds me of my mom-“what are you doing eating dessert? I never order dessert. You’re too big, you shouldn’t be eating it”. So for my own good, she’ll eat 3/4 of mine.
I know how you feel about shoes. I used to wear a size 7.5 normal width, but since my time in the Marines, my feet got a little flatter (I’m thinking because of all the hikes in crappy boots with no support). I now wear a size 8….WIDE. It felt terrible to me to make the concession that I needed a wide shoe. Wide is not feminine, my brain said. But honestly….who really looks at my shoes/feet? I don’t look at anyone elses’ shoes/feet – and besides…no one would know I wear wides just by looking at my feet.
We’re constantly told by advertisements what we should look like…I imagine those model’s faces on the billboards saying “One of us, one of us. You have to be one of us…”
I’m not going to try and fit into the mold anymore. Like the immortal Popeye says: I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.”
Mmmmm….full fat treats… (lol)
my feet look like little rectangles — for feet, relatively short and wide. But they do the job. And I was amazed when I started dancing barefoot on wood floors how they quit feeling sore and started loving it. I’m so glad for my feet, whatever size they are.
I’m also sorry I’ve been absent. Grief feels like a sledgehammer at the moment. I’m using everything at my disposal to get through, but I wish that I could just be sitting in an actual room with you and Sassy and others from around here and just cry. My usual comforters are not around, and the other people I could rely on to just cry with aren’t either, so it is hard to keep crying alone. I know there are people I could reach out to, but it feel difficult. Even so, I know I need to reach out.
I can relate to the shoe thing; I’ve worn a size 11 since I was a freshman in high school. I’ve always had a hard time finding shoes in my size. There have been times when I’ve gone shoe shopping and cried because I couldn’t find anything that fit. Plus, my feet are wide…I’ve got big, wide feet. I’ve often wished to have small, dainty feet like most of my friends.
“Femininity score” is a great phrase. And I actually do have size 11 (sometimes 10) feet!
I’m surprised nobody mentioned that size-11 shoe wearing modern icon of business acumen and beauty, gracious star power and femininity, namely Paris Hilton.