I’m going to make a confession. One that I guess isn’t too controversial these days, but it’s a confession for me nonetheless.
I’ve struggled with depression for most of my life. This is fairly common for young adults in America, so I don’t think it makes me anything special or pitiable. There are millions of Americans who struggle with episodic of chronic depression, and it’s a pretty shitty thing, but it’s not a death sentence. I’ve learned to deal with it, partly because I’ve been lucky enough to have a really stable family life and support system.
Hello everyone, especially those of you who are part of the random influx of traffic coming from Reddit. I hope you’re having a wonderful day.
I have a confession to make. I’ve been avoiding the “science” page of this blog. I know it needs to be done, but I just don’t have the patience to do it all at once, because it would mean wading through pages upon pages of fat logic, and frankly, ain’t nobody got time for that. At least, not all at once. Then it hit me. I could easily break the science page up into a series of posts that each deal with one specific scientific claim that TiTP makes, and when I’m done with those posts, put their content on the science page as well. So, here goes nothing.
Being that this is a blog about privilege, we were bound to come up against a discussion about entitlement eventually. I just didn’t realize that it was going to come so fast. But whatever, let’s dig right in.
Blueberries, blueberries, blueberries.
Today, all I want to talk about is blueberries.
You see, I’m really sunburned. I have some friends in town from Louisiana, and they wanted to go whale-watching today. I, being the dumbfuck that I am, didn’t wear sunscreen. It was really overcast when we got to the harbor where the boats take off, and so I figured I wouldn’t need any. Holy shit was I wrong. I’m now redder than a lobster. As someone who is really pale by nature, too dumb to wear sunscreen, and who sunburns quickly, this is not really a rare occurrence for me. Hey, I never said I was smart, okay?
This was a pretty crappy weekend for me food-wise. Friday and Saturday were both really busy days for both Brett and I, and so I admit that I ate like crap, and didn’t really have time to work out. Additionally, I got really drunk last night (something I do rarely… I can count on one hand the number of hangovers I’ve had in my life), which always leads to me making fairly poor food decisions. Between being busy and being drunk, I had fries with two of my meals yesterday. Of course, being hungover the next morning doesn’t exactly put you in a position to make good food decisions either, so today’s lunch was leftover fried rice and roast duck from Friday night when we ordered Chinese takeout. Granted, I’m eating less of it that I normally would have, but I still feel like my pores are oozing grease.
One of the things that’s caused me to get to the point that I am weight-wise is my really sedentary lifestyle. I’m a freelance web developer, which means I spend a lot of time sitting in front of a computer. Before we moved, it was hard for me to find the motivation to work out, because I either had to go out walking around my neighborhood, which had very few sidewalks and was incredibly humid, or I’d have to get a gym membership. At least… that’s what I thought.
It seems like everywhere we turn these days, we hear people accusing other people of having “privilege.” The newest version of this, demonstrated by the fat acceptance movement, is “thin privilege.”
So what is thin privilege? To tackle that, it’s best to start with the basic understanding of what “privilege” means in this context.
I’m going to make a strange admission: I subscribe to the paper version of the LA Times.
Yes. I know. Someone like me who spends most of her time on a computer, and is never more than three feet from a smartphone with constantly-updating RSS feeds coming straight to it… subscribes to a daily-delivery paper. Continue reading