Anonymous asked: You eat a lot and your job (freelance writing, I assume) is a rather sedentary one. How do you stay so slender? Has it always been that easy for you?
Readers’ questions about my body probably rank #1 among Questions I Avoid Answering. (As a side note, I am kind of surprised that my blog makes it evident that I eat a lot, but perhaps I should have expected as much given the numerous recipes I’ve posted which involve deep-frying the crap out of every imaginable edible substance known to man.) I’m not comfortable telling readers what I do with my body, because I don’t want it to be construed as a guideline for what others should do with theirs. This is for a host of reasons, which I will detail below in a conveniently numbered list:
If I haven’t made it clear before, let me state for the digital record that going on a quest to reach the beauty ideal will only bring you misery. One of you guys submitted a question a while back on this topic saying this:
“I am also a small, Asian female but I have trouble keeping my weight under control. I’m only 16 but I’ve been round my entire life and I’m kind of sick of it.”
When I read things like this, it makes me really upset. You’re sixteen; don’t waste your teenage-y angst on how much you weigh. Our bodies should not be viewed as enemies to be kept “under control”. The antagonism women direct toward their bodies for not looking perfect lends itself to really unhealthy attitudes. I did this for years when I was an adolescent, and not only did I end up with sick ideas about food and my body, but I also worried people who cared about me. And I am not proud to say this but one of the reasons I stopped purging is not because I came to some sort of feminist awakening, but because I didn’t want to do long-term damage to my teeth. (Incidentally, I am thinking of starting a blog series called, “I Am Not A Good Feminist”.) Then in the first four months of college (2005), I gained 20 pounds and more or less kept that weight until 2008. (I’m only 5’ 2” so this made a huge difference in my appearance.) And guess what? The world didn’t end just because I wasn’t as skinny as I was at 15. In fact, I felt a million times more attractive at 18 than I did as a teenager. In retrospect, my weight gain probably saved me a lifetime of irrational fears about my body. I’ll always be grateful for that.
I once wrote a very lengthy entry (entitled The Gym-A-Phobe’s Guide To Having Your Cupcake & Eating It Too) on what it was like for me to healthily lose the Freshman 15 (in my case, the Freshman 20) over the course of a year. This was less about getting skinny than it was about conquering my insecurities about physical activity, which I’d manage to avoid for a good two decades of my life. (Fun fact: I cannot bike, swim, or do anything involving a ball.) I still stand by what I said then, the gist of which was that exercise, particularly weight training, can be empowering, but only if you don’t view it as a means to an end. Just as I will never run like Caster Semenya, I will also never look like a runway model. And even if I did, I assure you that the sacrifices necessary to do so would leave me terribly unhappy. Because I recognized my own limitations, exercise became a fun activity instead of a burden.
If you want to know what it was like for me to get in shape, here is the very boring truth: I lost weight by running near-daily, never drinking, and eating healthier. I wouldn’t call this traditional “dieting”, since I don’t believe in having a blacklist of off-limit foods and I think calorie-counting just makes you fixated on numbers that don’t mean anything in terms of healthfulness. I also allowed for plenty of indulgences and started cooking so that I could eat lighter versions of my favorite restaurant dishes. (Perhaps I’m lucky enough that I can sometimes eat crap without gaining weight, but even if this weren’t the case, I would probably opt for the weight gain over deprivation of gastronomic pleasures.) I always thought that guilt was a mandatory element of any health regimen, so I was astonished that I never felt guilty for falling off the wagon. It was only later that I realized this was because there was never a wagon to begin with. I also learned that there are no quick fixes and no one can radically alter their body overnight without seriously messing it up. When I was actively losing weight, I only shed one or two pounds a month, looked essentially the same for the first six months, and eventually plateaued at a weight that was maintainable even given the occasional cupcake and deep-fried substance.
I kept up the regular exercise regimen for a year but when I went back to school last fall, I regressed a lot. I now run monthly, drink occasionally, and keep very questionable eating habits. But I only weigh 108 pounds and wear size 24 jeans. In terms of sheer numbers, am I skinny by societal standards? Sure, but I am under no illusion that my admittedly sedentary lifestyle is in any way healthy. I certainly don’t feel healthy or fit, and I hope to change this now that I’ve graduated and have more time. I’m glad I’ve gotten to a point where I’m more concerned about my ability to walk up to a four-story apartment building than I am about the number on a scale. Because if I were still worrying about the latter, then I’d probably be puking my brains out in a toilet right now. Instead, I’m going to eat a chocolate chip cookie, finish this blog post, and go on a hike.
More burning questions? Ask them here.
Related posts on body image, dieting, and health:
What Sex Blogging & The Freshman 15 Taught Me
The Gym-A-Phobe’s Guide To Having Your Cupcake & Eating It Too
Reader Question: “How do you reconcile your feminism and beauty/fashion consumption?”
Reader Question: “What are the merits of having small breasts?”
The Blueprint Myth
“Watching the cashier at the drug store try to explain Robotripping to an 80 year old lady was amazing.” — email from a friend that made me miss those naive days when cough syrup was just cough syrup
“Do you have a type? Because I don’t. I know it’s hard to believe. People like to declare that they’re type-less and then they tack on the criteria of ‘as long as he’s not a Republican.’ Me? I’ve dated a Republican.” —Sex and the Ivy (October 29, 2007)
Following up on last night’s discussion of racial preferences in dating, I thought it’d be interesting to examine the concept of dating “types”. Like many a gal before me, I grew up on women’s mags that offered specially tailored advice to girls looking to snag a certain “type” of guy. Want a “bad boy”? There’s a patented formula for seduction. Into “artsy” dudes? You should follow the game plan written by a very qualified magazine editor. It all sounds incredibly reductive, doesn’t it? But for a good number of years, I was successfully fooled into buying (quite literally) these stereotypes about men. And then I went to college and encountered a lot of different types of guys with totally different background and interests and realized that I’d been brainwashed. The Republican I dated turned out to be not so conservative in the end. Some of the supposedly liberal suitors were members of all-male elitist Harvard final clubs. And then there were all the types I thought I would be so into: the philosophers, the English majors, the tech geeks and the like.
At one point, I essentially wanted to date the hipster version of Sartre, but minus the open relationship, because my fragile ego wouldn’t be able to handle that.
But seriously, I’ve hooked up with and dated a lot of people and never have I ever felt the inclination to say, “So-and-so reminds me so much of so-and-so!” Because beyond very basic attributes like a generally ambitious nature, they’re all pretty different, and I’m better for having met such a varied bunch in my few short years of dating. If I were single tomorrow, I wouldn’t think, “This is the type of person I’m looking for”. I simply wouldn’t know! And if I did have a specific type, I’d likely be ruling out a ton of great guys or more likely, change my mind upon meeting the right person.
Take my relationship with Patrick, for example. Before we went on our first date, I was on some kind of streak with bespectacled college boys who shared my waist size and liberal sympathies. And then I wound up with a German dude who bench presses me for fun and espouses views that make most progressive Americans seem downright reactionary. How the hell was I supposed to know this was going to happen? And even if I did, could I have willed this into happening? I don’t think so. You can’t really predict these things. And you shouldn’t try. Love (and life) turns out much more nicely when you leave things up to chance.
Anonymous asked: You've dated white men and you've dated Asian men. Would you ever consider dating Latino or African-American men (assuming that you haven't already)?
Already have, though nothing serious has come out of those non-lationships (but then again, I’ve only had two-and-a-half long-term romances, and yes, I’m counting high school). But even if I haven’t, of course I would consider dating someone who wasn’t white or Asian. It’s not like having dark skin is a character flaw.
I’ve made the interesting observation that some of the most frequently asked reader questions I receive on The Chicktionary concern interracial dating. Roughly speaking, there are two groups of “askers”: girls who want to know about my personal experience with such relationships and guys who want to know how to effectively hit on Asian chicks. (I jest, but seriously, I can’t speak for all Asian women, so don’t submit questions like that.) It seems like there’s a lot of interest in this topic, but my totally non-expert opinion on the matter is rather simple.
I think racial preferences are completely senseless. Of course, certain factors (like the demographics of your college, for example) might make it more likely that you date a certain type of person, but controlling for that, race should never be a reason to not date someone. Given my extensive and sometimes cringe-worthy dating experiences, I can tell you that there are often bigger dealbreakers than the color of someone’s skin.
Usually, someone with a racial preference will cite an explanation like “physical attraction”, but I think this is mostly nonsense. Why? Because unless you have incredibly stringent and unreasonable criteria for potential partners, race alone is not going to make someone unattractive to you. Most of us are at least moderately shallow (which I wholeheartedly accept) and might like certain physical attributes, such as height or build, but when people say things like, “I’m never attracted to Black guys”, my alarm bells go off, and I think, “You’ve never ever seen an attractive Black guy? Like not even in a rap video?” Sorry, but I don’t buy that. You’re probably not trying hard enough and clearly have not experienced the magic of D’Angelo asking you “How Does It Feel?”.
And on the flipside, when someone says something like, “I’m only attracted to Asian women”, I’m equally skeptical, because are you seriously telling me that you can only be happy with a slanty-eyed, black-haired partner? Obviously not. And given that there are so few of us slanty-eyed, black-haired gals running around, it is not probable that you “accidentally” wound up dating five in a row.
So why is it then that so many people profess or exhibit some sort of racial bias in their partner choice? Here are a few basic theories:
All of this said, many people have a preference (confessed or not) when it comes to race, and these people include Ivy Leaguers, my blog readers, and my mother. So while I remain slightly judge-y, I am also curious and apparently, so are the people reading this. If you care to share, please enlighten us in the comments.
More burning questions? Ask them here.
Related posts on race and dating:
Does Lena Chen Date Asians? (The Chicktionary)
Is Sharing Family Background and Life Experiences Essential To A Successful Relationship? (The Chicktionary)
Checking Your “Type” At The Door (College Candy)
Anonymous asked: What are the merits of having small breasts? Do you think there are social stigmas attached to having small breasts or large breasts? Are these stigmas different or similar in severity?
I don’t know if I should be insulted or flattered to be asked to speak on behalf of small-breasted women everywhere. I’ll opt for the latter.
As the owner of two petite mounds, I think there are innumerable benefits to having small breasts so I will just list the ones off the top of my head:
For the record, I wear a 32A, which is pretty much as small as it gets. So there are, of course, the cons:
I actually think that it’s a moot point whether it’s better to have small or big breasts. Because of the sexualization of the hourglass figure, it could be said that busty girls personify the beauty ideal of a voluptuous figure. But on the other hand, I fit into sample sizes (even though I might have to stuff my bra) while larger-chested women either can’t wear teeny tiny tops or get a ton of crap for “revealing” themselves when really, it’s not their fault they have cleavage. There’s a tendency to associate big boobs (and curviness in general) with “sluttiness” and a tendency to associate small boobs with prepubescence. Is there a happy medium? Maybe. But perhaps all those medium-boobed women are unhappy with their calves or eyebrows or elbows. In short, the beauty ideal creates a standard with few winners and many, many losers.
In lieu of a witty one-liner to end this piece, I’m just going to leave y’all with the disclaimer that this post is in no way advocating plastic surgery of the chest, calf, eyebrow, or elbow area. Just wanted to make that clear.
More burning questions? Ask Lena.
On our last day in Rome, we visited a public park with picturesque views and without hordes of tourists. Fitting way to end the journey.
Photo Credit: Patrick Hamm
Did a makeover of my personal website using a Tumblr template. Still need to play around with the colors and possibly add photos of Hamlet. For once, I might refrain from pink-ify-ing everything.
My tech-savvy readers, how does one make rounded corners? The official Lena Chen homepage is in dire need of them.
My attempts to update Sex and the Ivy have been thwarted these past few months because I’ve forgotten my password. (This is evidence of how much I’ve let that blog deteriorate, agh.) The “Forget Password” feature is also broken because my edition of Wordpress has a bug.
When I become a wealthy memoirist, I will hire a IT person so the Roomie is no longer delegated all tech-related tasks.
Is "Rape By Deceit" Really Rape? -
A Palestinian man was convicted in Israel this week for “rape by deceit” because he lied to his Jewish partner about being Jewish himself. I’m not going to get into a huge debate about definitions of rape, but I will say that being deceived into having consensual sex is very different from being coerced into having non-consensual sex. And it shouldn’t be overlooked that racism plays a huge role in why this man was prosecuted, as others have already pointed out.
Tzvi Segal, one of the judges, said in the ruling that the court has the duty to protect people (presumably vagina-owning people) from “smooth-tongued criminals who can deceive innocent victims at an unbearable price”. Because the worst thing that could happen to us vulnerable womenfolk is if we have sex with someone who doesn’t keep kosher. While I can concur that this guy was an asshole for lying about his religious beliefs, he doesn’t deserve to go to jail just because his sexual partner has backward ideas about who she can or can’t have sex with. And it pisses me off that the court system only reinforces the antiquated notion that a Jewish women having sex with a non-Jewish man is an “unbearable” sacrifice. Look, you were fooled, like plenty of people are when they have sex with relative strangers. Chalk this up to a lesson learned, but don’t go trying to throw the dude in jail because of your prejudices. That’s belittling to people who actually are survivors of sexual assault.
(And if anyone thinks the above is anti-semitic, then please replace all instances of the word “Jewish” with “White” and “non-Jewish” with “Black”. The woman would be viewed as ridiculous if she were pissed to discover that her partner had, say, concealed their Black ancestry. Also, remember all the Black men in the slavery era who were lynched after false accusations of rape against White women? This is a comparably racist incident.)
Naturally, this question raises the question of where to draw the line. robot-heart-politics brought up a few potential alternative scenarios asking what constitutes “rape” when deceit comes into play:
“What extent is it acceptable to misrepresent yourself or blatantly lie to a sexual partner? If you tell someone you’re a lawyer, but in fact you’re only in law school, could that be rape if they have sex with you on the basis of the fact they thought you were a lawyer? If you tell someone you come from a wealthy family, but actually you don’t at all, would that constitute rape? If you meet someone in a bar and tell them you are single and interested in a long-term relationship, but after sleeping with them, they discover you are in fact neither of these things—you are actually married and, because you wish to stay in your marriage, are only interested in flings—is that rape?
Is every instance of lying before sex tantamount to deception that would qualify as rape? If you tell a girl your favorite band is Nickelback because she says that’s her favorite band, even though you actually hate Nickelback, is that a reason for her to claim after the fact that she now views their sexual encounters as rape by deceit?”
For me, the answer is pretty clear-cut. It’s not rape if the sexual encounter itself is consensual. It may be douche-y for one party to lie to make themselves more attractive, but it’s probably even douchier for the other party to have very specific preferences about only being able to fuck lawyers, rich people, or Nickelback fans. I wouldn’t want to sleep with either group of people, but ultimately, no one is a rapist here.
Am I totally off-base? Can deceit constitute rape? Feel free to weigh in on the comments.
Driving down to Austria tomorrow morning to go hiking with the Roomie and the Pup. Have never hiked, camped, or engaged in any of those outdoor-sy activities typical of childhood. (Having grown up in the Chinese countryside, my parents were less than convinced of the fun that could be had in the forest-y middle-of-nowhere.)
Luckily for me, I can be certain that I will not be setting the pace as the slowest member of the group. that honor will be reserved for my shorter, furrier companion.