Not only have I no impulse to speak to the matter; I have an impulse, on top of the "stay mum" impulse, to hide the whole affair from my further view. I am a bad political proponent in this respect of the body acceptance I am practicing practicing and believe could improve the world, no shit that big, if it were to spread. One could argue, I suppose, that I am being good at another kind of acceptance, letting it be, but this I don't accept, this focus on size and weight, this so-broadly-accepted certainty that he's embarking on something to be celebrated, whether he aims at it with this shame (piling onto his shame) thing or not.
Maybe it's not so much that I don't know how to begin to tell people who don't already have a clue what's so very wrong with the dealio. Maybe it's more that I so don't want to get into that fight. With those folks. Or with many. And this is where my shame enters, for there is a call, and I hear it, and I am not answering.
