The fat and skinny of the obesity/body image debate

We should not tell girls it's OK to be chunky. It's quite an attention-grabbing and slightly sensationalist headline, and this and the words that follow beneath it seem to be causing quite a stir, particularly on social networking sites like Twitter. I don’t disagree with many of the points Virginia Haussegger makes in her article on obesity and body image, but I can also understand why it’s caused much outrage.

It's true that there is an obesity problem in Australia. However, those who argue that “obesity is not a health issue” are wrong. A very small majority of fat people can blame a medical condition for their weight, and I would safely claim that for the majority of cases, the simple fact is that they eat too much (and of the wrong foods) and don’t exercise enough. Genes might cause them to pile on more weight more easily, but it can't carry all the blame and anyway – it’s your responsibility to adjust your lifestyle accordingly. As for the body mass index (BMI): I don’t even know what my BMI is, and I don’t really care. I’m happy with the shape I’m in and have a pretty good handle on the state of my health - I don’t need some number to tell me that. People who live and swear by it should probably understand that a test with such limited scope is going to be flawed in some way and should only be used as a very simple and quick guideline – one that is not entirely accurate. As a result, I am not surprised that people considered as overweight/obese according to the BMI are actually very healthy people. In my view: take what the BMI’s telling you on board, but don’t take it too seriously. This applies to all people, skinny or fat or in between.

The problem is that there is no clear-cut definition of 'fat' and to a lesser extent, skinny, and clearly the BMI is being used, probably not very accurately, to stick some kind of label and measurement on it. The ambiguity surrounding weight and health just makes the issue far more complex.

I could use myself as an example of the many contradictions that exist in these areas. I’m a tall size 12, but I wouldn’t say I’m crazily healthy: I don’t eat as well as I should and my alcohol intake isn’t exactly moderate. But I like to indulge and I don’t blame anyone else but myself for the consequences, and am happy to deal with them. I exercise quite a bit, but I could do more. While I am definitely ‘curvy’, genes have blessed me with a fast metabolism, probably the only reason I’m not as big as the side of a house right now. There are probably (much) fatter people out there who are healthier than me. People seem to see me as skinny, but I would be considered a plus-size model if I ever decided to go that way (yeah, fat chance). Confusing? Tell me about it. But the two main things here are that a) I am/feel healthy (well, except on Sundays) and b) I’m happy in my own skin. These are exactly the two most important things that we want women to have/feel. But the question is: how do we help them get there?

I can understand why fat women feel shunned and shamed by Haussegger’s comments, but I don’t think that was her intent. I don’t think we should promote images of obesity or poor health, but I also don’t think overweight women should be shoved out of the spotlight because they – in some people’s opinion – represent these things. Women of all body shapes, cultures and backgrounds should be portrayed in the media simply because that’s what our world is like - diverse - so shouldn’t our media reflect that?

Then there’s the argument “me being fat isn’t anyone else’s business”. No it’s not, but the media’s representation of women is our business. I don’t read Cosmopolitan, nor do I work in the fashion industry and I barely even watch TV – but I also acknowledge that some very impressionable minds do and what they show can have a strongly negative/positive impact. I really don’t think it helps when women are constantly condemning a stick-thin model on some catwalk somewhere (who a much smaller number of people would've seen if the media hadn't publicised it - see the irony?) or celebrating with over-exaggerated vigour a picture of a woman with a bit of extra meat around the belly and thigh on the catwalk or in a fashion shoot, crying “yes, finally, a real woman!” (Which as Helen Razer put it so well, “belittling the big”). And think how a naturally thin woman would feel being splashed all over the media and branded as “aneroxic”? Or how an overweight woman would feel about becoming the poster girl for other people's body image campaigns when it was not her intention for this to happen?

However, what does help are honest representations of women (i.e without excessive touch-ups and airbrushing) who are clearly happy with themselves, don’t feel the need to comply to a social norm, don’t feel the need to be objectified, and don’t constantly feel inadequate or obsess over their bodies to the point that it negatively impacts their lives. Whether they’re skinny or fat – who cares? If they’re happy, healthy and beautiful women, what’s the difference? It’s important to look and feel good, but not only skinny people can achieve that. We should be celebrating what woman have achieved, not what they look like - after all, it is that kind of behaviour that has been feeding the problem in the first place.

Racist foods

If Creole Creams are racist, then what are these? Chopped liver?

While I do believe racism and any other kind of discrimination should be kept as far away as possible from food products and commercial branding (or anywhere, for that matter), this issue raises the question: where exactly do we draw the line? Are Gaytimes considered offensive as well? Do Thins discriminate against overweight people? Do Cracker Barrell cheese and licorice bullets promote gun violence?

I know we live in a different world now, but how cool was it when we ate Fags, not Fads, and we let Fanny and Dick exist in Enid Blyton books, because even though they might draw a snigger, that's how Enid would've wanted it. And feel like some Spotted Dick? Well you can't have any.

This is racist food/marketing done properly:

Hollandaise hell at Tenth Muse

Brunswick Street: it's a thriving metropolis of trendy cafes, cute boutique shops and busy bars. So I figured, as I made my Sunday sojourn there for a lunch date with a friend - an exercise that has become something of a tradition lately - that we couldn't go wrong. Oh boy, was I wrong.

Having been the first one to arrive, I scouted the street for a place I could read the newspaper and sip coffee while I waited. A place called Tenth Muse at the northern end of the street (across from Bimbo's) caught my eye. It had funky retro orange seats and a low-key, relaxed vibe. In a gastronomical leap of faith, I went inside, and took a seat near the window while I waited for my friend to arrive. An older blonde woman who looked like she had barely woke up nonchalantly asked me if I was after coffee or lunch. I ordered a cappucino.

Twenty minutes later, my friend arrives, and I still haven't received my coffee. None of the waitresses had come near me. I was tired, hungover, and in dire need of sustenance; even some water would've been nice. When my friend sat down, I considered, on account of the absent coffee, leaving and going somewhere else, but my friend had already got comfortable. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

The blonde woman returned and then said apologetically to me, "Oh you ordered a coffee, didn't you? A latte?"

"Cappucino," I corrected.

Not a great start.

So our coffees come out after a bit of a wait. We were given menus to peruse but neither of us were really taken by the options. And where were the eggs? There was nothing in the way of eggs or breakfast at all. We were considering going somewhere else until my friend asked the waitress if they had any breakfast options. The woman, who looked tired and ragged, apologised again and dumped another menu, this time with the all-day breakfast menu attached, carelessly on our table. ("Someone's got a hangover," my friend muttered to me under her breath). Great. So we'd wasted a whole 20-25 minutes staring at a menu we had no interest in.

We made our decision on our breakfast options pretty quickly. But trying to get a waitress to come anywhere near us? Another story.

After another 15-20 minutes, I finally managed to flag down a waitress and ask if we could order. I ordered the eggs benedict with mushrooms and a hashbrown, while my companion opted for the eggs florentine. Pretty straightforward. The lady (dim blondie again) nodded as we made our orders, without taking notes, but you could tell it was going in one ear and out the other. So surprise, in five minutes she was back: "Sorry, you'll have to repeat your orders," she says vaguely. Neither of us are feeling good about our situation at this point.

So after another long wait - probably something like 30 minutes - our orders finally arrive. By this point we are irritable, completely famished and ready to inhale our meals. However, this was not meant to be. The plate is plonked in front of me and to my horror, two poached eggs stared up at me, completely naked, teasing me with their bare orange yolks. The hollandaise sauce was noticeably absent.

"Hollandaise sauce is on its way; apologies from the chef," the waitress says politely (a brunette this time, who seems a little more switched on than her sleepwalking blonde colleague) but we are less than impressed. I'm thinking (and hoping to high heaven) the sauce is going to follow. Soon.

Wrong. We were forced to stare at our meals for more than 15 minutes, as our mouths watered and our tummies groaned. I was losing my patience.

Finally, a waitress returned and assured us we would get discounts on our meals because of the missing hollandaise. "So what, are we supposed to eat them without the hollandaise?" I asked her. She assured us it was still coming. I told her the eggs were now cold. The chef came over, and finally it was agreed that she would make the meals again, from scratch, and bring them out with the hollandaise sauce included. Wasteful, and annoying. "I'm so sorry, " the chef said, "but we're really under the pump today." Looking around at the half-full cafe, I wondered what would happen if the place was actually busy?

The waitress and chef said they could have the meals back out in five minutes. We weren't holding our breath. And lucky that, because it took something like another 15 minutes for the meals to emerge again. I also had to ask for another fork, and we had no salt at the table. The waitress had also said she'd bring us more water, and hadn't. They offered us drinks as compensation. But no, we didn't want more coffee. We just wanted to eat and get the hell out of there.

So finally, the much-awaited eggs arrived, but not without what almost seemed like the cafe's twisted idea of a joke. The whole meal was literally swimming in hollandaise. The offending yellow liquid had taken over the whole plate, completely eclipsing the eggs, engulfing half of my hashbrown and disturbing the buttery harmony of my mushrooms. And if that wasn't enough, an extra glass tub of hollandaise sat perched amongst it all, mocking us in some kind of glaring yellow statement. Really guys, we know you must've gone to a lot of effort to make the stuff, considering it had taken something like an hour for us to get it, but did you have to (literally) rub our faces in it? Not only that, it was shabbily made: not creamy like hollandaise should be, but drowning in oil. Gross.

Following our meal (I think the waitresses were too scared to collect our plates) we argued with the staff over the payment. Finally, the chef insisted that we could both pay $10 each, less than half-price. I agreed to this even though my friend was reluctant. I was just tired and wanted the whole experience to be over. Tenth Muse is a new kid on the block (I think it only opened this year) so I did feel sorry for them to some degree, but the standard of service was simply unacceptable. I don't know if we were unlucky or what, but if I can give them some advice it would be: 1. Hire some staff who give a shit or even at least pretend they do. 2. If you can't make hollandaise sauce, you probably shouldn't be in the industry. 3. If you can't memorise orders, use a notepad. 4. If you keep up service like that, you won't last long.

Needless to say, we left Tenth Muse feeling far from inspired. The only - and hopefully the last - bad meal I have ever had on Brunswick Street. Next time, I'll settle for the cheap pizza at Bimbo's.