Fat Betty

What are the chances that I'm not gonna post about "fat Betty" after this Sunday's episode of Mad Men?

That's right...none. Here goes.

On the one hand, I'm a woman who puts "fat curses" on ex-boyfriends and then looks them up here and there on the FB to make sure it's working. (Sorry if any of you suckers are reading this. And by suckers I mean fat suckers.) So insofar as I've joined in with the love-to-hate-Betty aspect of the show, it was a delight to see her struggling into that dress. Total payback thinking that being beautiful and accepted as perfect by society assure you happiness. (Sorry Betty! It's actually being a smart mouthed muffin topper that gets you everywhere in this world. Trust me.) Payback for belittling Sally, etc.

However, the reason I put my famous fat curses on the exes, is because I know just exactly how much it sucks to feel out of control of your body. I know there are technically worse things, but when I think about shitty shit that could befall you, I think of fat. Or maybe its more appropriate to say that I think being leaner could bring them some sorta happiness, which I wish to deny them. I say this as, and I know you might have to just trust me on this because of how I sorta just said that thin = happy, but I say this as a fairly well adjusted fat woman who loves herself. (Seriously, I was admiring my own curves in the mirror today in yoga. In stretchy pants.) However, most of the worst pains in my life have been associated with weight in one way or another, and sometimes it feels like my life's greatest failure with a bunch of smaller related failures inside it. Even while I will tell you that its not that bad and is no way to define yourself, I'll also tell you that its unbearably sucky. That's probably a paradox.

So my point is that, even while I, in some ways, enjoyed the latest fate of the character Betty in shallow ways, more than anything I just plain got why this was supposed to suck so bad for her. And is so...anti- Betty. Not being able to find a goddamn suitable thing to wear, even though they all fit last month...been there. The reality check that causes...let me tell you how a flow chart about that would go: Realize your "fat" dress doesn't fit. Two choices-- decide this is the bottom and take some healthy action...or descend further into food related madness until even your beach mumu doesn't fit at which time a similar choice must be made. The reason I call this the anti-Betty is that her character has always valued the sort of control appearance brings her...over herself...others...perhaps because it was the only kinda of control available to her. And now even that is gone, and she finds herself in a changing world that she just couldn't possibly be prepared for...not like Meagan, whose damn dress zips. Gawd, that dress moment! I know many others get this too, because dresses are evil, and you don't have to approach anything even near fat to have such a moment; you just have to be bigger than you were.

Then there was the phone moment. The other wicked smart people in the room with me, thought maybe that she got bad news-- that she had cancer-- during the interlude where she wasn't speaking yet. My quickness in reading that look though was shocking even to me. (Really, I didn't even need the look.) The look was: "Oh, so I'm just fat." I've had mirror image moments of that conversation, except that I'm a mouthy smart mouthy mouth, who will say exactly that to the doctor, and try to force him to explain why he's content with having an overweight endurance athlete who eats healthier than average for a patient. No, not cancer people. Just fat. The difference is that Betty is terrified to live fat--might as well be a death sentence for her, and I think I can manage it. I guess.