It's December nineteen ninety two, Christmas time. I'm ten years old and writing furiously into the pages of my little pink diary, venting about dinner, dear Diary. Today, Grandma gave us to Molly's for dinner. They smelled so good. Why does she always do this to me? Doesn't she understand that I'm the fattest girl in my entire school And it's because she's always tempting me with food? Love always, xoxo me. In the Mexican household I grew up in
December was high to Molly season. We'd make them for family and give them away as gifts too, and they were legendary. My grandmother and grandfather used to sit down in a mini production line and make does of tamales. Each one is like a tiny present of spicy meat and earthy massa, wrapped in papery corn husks. My love is watering just thinking about them now. But back then, bamales were the bane of my existence. I was a little fat girl who was being bullied relentlessly for her weight,
and food was enemy number one. The better it tasted, the more dangerous it was a threat to becoming different, better, thin if I could just be thin, I thought I'd be happy. I'd get the love and attention I always craved from the boys at school. I thought being fat
meant ugliness, a loveless future. Those delicious thamales meant staying fat, failing, failing at being thin, and failing at all the other things that seemed to be wrong with me, like the Mexican home that made me feel like I was an alien at school, the words I would mispronounce because my grandmother said them differently, the rituals that kept us from being real Americans. My feelings about those tamadas were all about my relationship to culture, family, tradition, immigration, and race.
Food is powerful that way. I'm Virgi Tovar, and this is Rebel Eaters Club. It's a show where I talked to incredible people about our relationships to food and all the things wrapped up and eating, like self esteem, sex, community, love. I am a fat woman of color, and I hated my body for a long time. I was terrified of food for nearly twenty years. But finally, one day I gave the finger to diet culture. But what is diet culture? In the US? The weight loss industry has grown to
seventy two billion dollars a year. That's seventy two billion. This culture is constantly telling us that all our problems would be solved if only we ate less. Diet culture shows up in workout clothing companies. It tell you to find your shine in keto cookbooks on the bestseller list, in the way coworkers can't seem to share a meal without talking about the gym, the way fat people are
treated like second class citizens. Every year, forty eight million Americans go on a diet, but not everyone is calling it a diet. People might call it wellness or a healthy lifestyle. But diet culture is everywhere and it's destructive. So we're going to break up with diet culture one corn dog at a time, and you will salivate and I have feelings and new thoughts. At the end of every episode, there will be a question I want you
to journal about. The more you know about your history with food and eating, the better equipped you are to finally break up with diet culture. Are you ready? Today? We're going to talk to my friend Mia Foyer about her food front of me bagels. I brought some bagels and some schmir Is it schmirs. How do you use it? Well, I have never heard anyone call it schmir until I moved to the US. But in Winnipeg, where I grew up, where I ate my earliest bagel, it was just cream cheese.
For Mia, bagels are all tied up with some of her most important relationships with her mother, her heritage, and herself. Okay, okay, so are you ready? Should we do? Oh? My god, I just dropped a bunch of cream cheese on my lap. If I'm I'm going to eat it off? Yeah? Are you ready? Huh? Okay, do it? Let's do it. M mmmmm, although I gotta say I longed for a toaster. Yeah. I met Mia when she came to Babe Camp, one of my weekend long workshops on fat feminism. Since then,
she's become a friend. She's a Canadian and a total badass sculptor. When we sat down in the studio to eat some bagels, she started telling me about her childhood in Winnipeg, Manitoba. So I grew up in a Jewish house, Jewish grandparents. I went to do a school, and so I was really kind of steeped in a Jewish community. And with that came a lot of Jewish cooking, like a lot of things like knishes and balinzas and corn beef sandwiches and pickles and bagels, you know, and brisket
and chicken soup and mats of balls. And bagels were glorious. And the ones that my mom bought at Safe Way in Winnipeg were not fancy. They were not these like beautiful bagels that i've i've you know, had in Montreal or in New York. They were like out of a plastic bag that you know, were made in a factory that came and frozen on a truck. You know. They were the industrialized bagel for the middle class family who
lived in like the middle of Canada. And I remember lying in bed and I would think like, oh, I am, I cannot wait to wake up and eat a toasted bagel cheese whiz. That was like the ultimate, that was like my fantasy. I would go to bed, I was
so excited to wake up and have breakfast. And then, because of the fact that my family is full of larger bodied people, men and women, I learned how to hate my body from my mother, who hated her body, and then I hated her body, and I hated my body, and I hated my cousin's bodies and my aunt's bodies. But my dad became almost like this cop around the house,
and he put a picture on our fridge. I don't know if you remember, Virgie, but like there was these birthday cards that came out in the eighties of fat women or like super fat women in bikinis holding a cupcake, and then it was meant to be funny, you know, but it was hurtful. It was so he put one of those on our fridge as like a reminder to everybody in the house, me, my brother, and my mother that you know, if you open up this door, just
remember this body right here could be you. He would tell me that I had to do like X number of minutes on the stair climb or every night. There was so much fear being hurled at me as I was just sort of approaching puberty. I wasn't even like thirteen yet. Not soon after that, I actually remember sort of telling myself that I should not be so excited about eating bagels because of the fact that, like I
was receiving very strong messages around food, around eating. I mean, that's the thing right, because there's so much weird, there's morality tied into all of it. Yeah. And I think when you're talking about when food stops being something that you enjoy or something that you use for nutrition, right, Like, and you number there's a range of reasons why humans and animals eat, right, Yeah, And I would say all of them are natural. But then you add this cultural
level where food becomes tied to morality in our culture. Yeah. And also our relationship to food culturally is very seated in anxiety. And I think most people think that most food is either dangerous or bad for you. Yeah. And so when you have that moral overlay, all of a sudden, you start to see really strange behavior. Yeah. And I just feel like that, like I witness so much of that on a day to day basis, right, Like there's this kind of understanding of what you're supposed to do
when someone else is watching, and what you want to do. Oh. I feel like I have been in so many situations where I am performing. If I'm at an art opening and there's like a big table full of delicious food, but I'm surrounded by colleagues and other people from in the art world, you know, forget it. I'm just going to nibble at the smallest thing possible. Why even if I'm hungry, Because I all of a sudden fall into this weird trap of feeling scrutinized by everyone around me,
and that scrutiny is somehow linked to what I'm eating. Yes, And also, I mean, how many dates have I been on in my lifetime where I'm ordering food across the table from somebody who I think is judging me based on how much I eat or what I order. I'm happy to say that I've sort of shaken a lot of that bullshit off, but in my life it's been a constant. And then another thing I was thinking of back to the bagels, is so my mother and the
women of my family go to weight watchers. This is something that has been a constant, you know, since I could remember. My mother has been going to weight watchers until she started bringing me with her weight watchers, and then I went on my own to weight Watchers as soon as I was old enough. But they would make bagels.
There would be like I remember, every once in a while in my household growing up, the bagel brand would shift to be like two point bagels, from weight watchers, and they were sort of disgusting and they were small, alert, but you still kind of got to saw them in half and put them in the toaster and they became toasty. And then my mother at one point found a recipe to make one point bagels that were like made out of oh god, there was like fat free yogurt, and
who knows. That was like the ultimate, Like they're only one point weight watchers, you know. And as I got older, I you know, and I moved out and I moved out of Canada and I went to grad school. I felt like I was deep, deep, deeply struggling in terms of what I was allowing myself to eat. What I ended up falling into at that point was no bagels ever. I had loved them once so much and I knew it, and I just felt like if I if I eat a bagel, it's over. Don't ever or a bagel, don't
ever eat a bagel. Just don't do it. Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it. For years. WHOA, I'm having like a recollection of something my mother taught me when I was a fat little girl who was getting, you know, emotionally abused and bludgeon day after day for being fat. You know. I remember we were sitting in her car and I was crying and I just felt like I was so disgusted by my body. I remember taking her hand and putting it on the inside of my thigh and making her feel the stretch marks and
telling her that there was something wrong with me. There was something that normal people don't have, this that you know, my life would be better if I was the kind of person who didn't have, you know, Like it was such a physical memory of like, look at my defect, feel it, like, feel what it looks like to see, to feel the like the little tear under the skin
or the stretch mark happens, you know. Um. And you know, I think that she felt really overwhelmed and unable to guide me in that moment um, and so she leaned on her own dieting and disordered eating cash of of information and tips or whatever, and she said that the key to becoming thin was learning to hate the foods
you loved the most. WHOA and and like that kind of I mean that reminds me so much of what you're talking about, where it's like that inversion where it's like where the thing you love the most is the biggest danger to who you can and should become. Yeah, but that's what I mean, That's what it's like. That's also part like her teaching me how to have a eating disorder was part of feminine intimacy in our culture, right.
It wasn't like somehow like oh, this beautiful moment of like feminine intimacy where a mother is passing something onto it. It was like all that awful diet culture shit is as much a part of gender as like my mother touching my body. You know what I'm saying. It's like
it's all connected, right, I completely agree. Well, it's like it's interesting, right because like there's this cultural mechanism the family is attempting to use food the way that humans use food, which is to celebrate, to create intimacy, to feed and nurture, and then there's this weird moralistic diet culture thing that's kind of stepping in and and it's just it's like interesting, right because I see the trajectory of family and how food is, oh, is central to that,
and then there's this weird thing that kind of interrupts another story that feels really resonant with what you're talking about with your family and your mother is like I remember, you know, distinctly writing in my diary these like hate letters to my grandmother, um, because I was so angry at her for making delicious food that I felt tempted me, that I felt, you know, like if she could just stop making this food, that I could be the right size.
And I think what's so interlace with that, and what's so intense about that is that you know, my grandmother my family is Mexican, right like my family, so like, you know, I'm learning that this particular kind of like Anglo streamlined Norwegian body is the ideal body. Yeah, and I'm seeing my Mexican grandmother who is making the food that I'm connecting with home, but also connecting with my
racialization as evil. Me too, Virgie, me too. I the bagel there was something so Jewish about it, and I not only hated my body, but I hated my Jewish body. This is not something that I have fully resolved. You know. The bagel for me, like it was, it was like
the perfect food to hate. You know. It wasn't just like chocolate, or it wasn't just like ice cream the food that like everyone loves and then you know everyone people are on a diet are like no, you know, the bagel was like it symbolized my cultural background as a Jew, and how it odds I was with that totally. Yeah, I don't know if that makes sense. Yes, of course it does, of course. I mean yes, I mean I'm wondering, like, you know, you kind of mentioned we're first talking about it,
you're kind of returned to the bagel. Yeah, pregnancy, and I kind of wanted to hear this story. Yeah, I got pregnant in twenty fifteen, and there were just some foods I did not want, right, you know, I and there were some foods where you know, the cravings just really took over and it was I mean, all I wanted was a fucking bagel. All I wanted was a fucking bagel, Like and it was a plain bagel, no seeds, no flavor, with plain cream cheese. It's all I wanted, motherfucker, Like,
just give me, bring it to me. And uh, you know, something kind of animal happens when you're pregnant. You start to smell more and eat sense more, and you're you know, you're like, hey, you know like you can't really see what I'm doing, but I'm pretending to be a little animal sniffing around through garbage looking for that perfect treat. And like that's kind of how what I was becoming.
And um, when I wanted a bagel, which was kind of all I wanted, um, you know, I made sure I got one and did it create like static for you that that intends craving every time, every time every time because I I al was like I can't believe
I'm meeting a bagel. Yeah, do you understand your body is gonna do all this crazy shit and you're probably gonna gain all this weight and you're the world's gonna end, and you're gonna have a child and you're gonna you know, but I you know, the bagel, the bagel was eaten, yes, because it was all like I couldn't. I didn't want anything else totally. And even during my birth, I just
remember this moment while I was giving birth. I had my son Galio in my in my house, in my own bed, and I was pushing and I was it was like screaming and it was like I was I was an animal and I was trying to bite my do lie in her face, and you know, and then and it was storming outside, and it was, you know, like four in the morning, and I remember my partner said, He's like me, you look so beautiful right now, and I just was like, shut the fuck up. I'm so fat.
Why are you even telling me this right now? Like I was, because I was so deeply invested in the fact that I was like my body was wrong that even in that moment when my body was doing like the most magical thing it's ever done. And I even had somebody right there rooting me on, and I just couldn't even shake that culture in that moment. And then when I think back to that, how depressing, What a shame that, like I have to have that memory poisoning
my experience. I mean, I'll forever look back on that. You know, I chose to have a homebirth so I could be really present, and yet I was not present. I was still having thoughts that I needed to be skinny in that moment. I mean, how ridiculous it was that we are back A couple of years after Mia gave birth, she came to Babe Camp. That's the workshop I do with women where we get free from the
lives we're told about our bodies. Remember me. As an artist, she takes found industrial materials and makes huge human size sculptures. Not long after Babe Camp, she was asked to do an installation in a decommissioned greenhouse and the La Arboretum. This greenhouse is kind of like this derelict little shit box. It's been vacant for decades. It is like this ruinous structure that's made of wood and glass, and it's kind of fucked up. It's gnarly, like the glass is kind
of smashed out in parts. And spent some time in this greenhouse and also thought about kind of the journey that I've been on in my own body, getting pregnant, letting go of diet culture, you know, really um sort of reprioritizing the things that I was going to put my energy into, which was not shrinking myself like it just it was it was like glaring. It was a glaring problem for me to wake up in the morning and and say, well, what was I going to do today?
Am I going to go to the gym? And then spend the rest of the day worrying about what I was going to not eat or you know or was I just gonna go to my fucking studio. There was nothing about shrinking my body that felt remotely important, felt like anything I needed to bother with. It felt like something that was, if anything working against me, it was working. Yeah,
it was like actually actively working against me. And as soon as that should started to melt away, I was thinking, I want to make some kind of I want to make this like celebratory body of work pun intended, yea, And I wanted to use my own body. I wanted to use the bodies of brilliant women who around me. I was moved to create an installation in that greenhouse
of these fictional goddess figures. One of them was the Egyptian goddess to Wear It, who has the head of a hippo and the body of a woman, and her and her sisters were referred to as the Solar Mothers, and what their role was was to protect birthing mothers and newborns of all species during the birthing process and also to usher the sun being born over the horizon every morning. Okay, so I had an opportunity to take all my clothes off and be cast by you. It
was such a specific experience. It was like, you know, like I'd never been cast before, and um, and there's some logistics to it, like, for instance, you had to put vassiline all over my vagina and then put a tiny piece of saran wrap over it. And it was like you were so consent driven. You were like, is this okay, I'm gonna put this? You can. I think you even had like a joint dangling out of your mouth at this point or something, and you're like, is
this okay, just okay? Oh my god, so evocative. I always envision you with a joint hanging out of your mouth. It's it's I mean, that's not a judgment. It's actually very charming. Oh I'm so I'm so thankful. I'm so
thankful to weed. So it's like I got cast and then I like started to panic and you had to cut me at you and like your assistant had to cut me out of it, and you gave me some weed and I started to freak out and I was like I've never been higher in my life, and you're like you are not that hot, Like you held it down in that moment, Like it was like the moment when the airplane was like crashing and You're like, we're gonna be out, okay, Yeah, And I felt okay after that,
I felt like I felt like that you were just so emphatic, and I felt like I could trust you in that moment. I just want to tell you about the first time I saw me a show. Once it all came together, Mia had invited the group of Fat Babe she had cast for the sculptures to be VIP guests. After the wine and cheese reception, we walked the windy path of the La Arboretum to the greenhouse, and what we saw there was like something out of a science
fiction fairy tale. Through the windows, I saw these incredible sculptures that had the heads of hippos, the tales of dinosaurs, and human bodies. Our bodies, I saw our bellies, our double chins, and thy rolls illuminated under the gallery lighting as if we were demigods. It was like a museum of witchy hippos crossed or the forgotten corner of Jurassic Park.
And it was amazing. I mean, I do believe that this is the most exciting work I've ever made, and it's only just sort of like the beginning of the most exciting work that I've ever made, because I all it did was just make me want to make better and more and crazier, and you know, like I just
want to kind of keep riding it. I Mean, one of the things I love about this work is that, I mean, first of all, there's there's like the documentation of bodies that have largely been either completely deleted from the archive of Western art or are only portrayed to display sin or gluttony or you know, something kind of a deviation or a sign of immorality. I mean, in general, I don't see fat women's bodies being revered and loved. And I think there's also what I love is because
of the nudity. There's like a documentation of the physicality of fatness that is so unique anyway that Actually, that's the last question I wanted to ask you, was, you know, I know you're still in the journey, but you're kind of on the other side of the line, right, Like I just found out recently that forty eight million Americans diet every year. Yeah, and so what is your dispatch? What do you know now that you didn't know when
you were part of that statistic? Yeah, I would say that to walk through that, you know, that that threshold or whatever of like being on a diet and committing to this like bullshit, sort of like living in the future aspirational gobbliegook. Yes, to consider leaving it, you'd only be like, well, then what happens to me? That is scary? But then I feel like, once the door was even cracked a little bit open, you can't close it, Yeah, because it's searing bullshit that you realize you were in.
As soon as there's like a little inch of light going through, It's like, well, you see all the poop garbage the light coming in illuminates. Yes, Yes, they're like, well, okay, wait a second here. And the other the other thing is the parenting question. Yes, because I feel really fortunate too to have sort of discovered this radical way of living in our culture, which is like without having a
priority to shrink myself. I'm so grateful that it kind of happened when it did, as I had been, you know, just becoming a parent, because there are so many things that I am seeing other parents around me do that are setting their children up for the exact same sad, painful relationships. I see. It just with the way parents
talk about their own bodies. I never ever, ever want there to be any shame around eating around, eating bagels, around bodies, around bodies and bathing suits around, jiggling around, tickling around, you know, like like like anything that's kind of associated with like bodies and how bodies are funny, and how bodies are hairy and smelly. And I just I'm trying to protect Gallet as much as I can from how the culture sterilizes and creates so much shame. Mia.
Thank you for being here, for eating bagels that we're not toasted, and for sharing your beautiful story. Thank you. Eating is a basic need we have to eat. We rely on food for survival every day, all the time. Our bodies are built to enjoy eat. It's a basic biological source of pleasure. Beyond that, food connects us to
other people and to ourselves. It's part of our greatest moments of celebration, joy and mourning, and for better or worse, it's tied to all the things that anchor us to the place we're from, to the people many of us will never be closer to our family. My relationship with my family is complex, but now thamalists reminds me of the warm parts of our relationship, not the hurtful ones. I know my grandma was caring for me with hermalis. She was never trying to attempt or torture me. She
was only interested in nourishing me. Nowadays, thamalists are a big chunk of my food pyramid. I don't hate my body or food anymore, so they don't represent danger. Instead, they represent a small, delicious part of a very fraught inheritance. Every week, at the end of the episode, I'm going to share a journal prop that will help you think about your relationship to food. This week, I want you to think about one of your food inheritances. Write about
food that reminds you of family, chosen or biological. It doesn't matter. What does this dish represent to you? What's its story, the joy, the tension, where it came from, the good memories and the weird ones, and how it
shaped who you have become. If you want to write it down, you can send it to us at Rebel Eaters Club at gmail dot com or leave us a voicemail at eight six two two three one five three eight six, and your story could make it onto the show eight six, two two three, one five three eight six. When you're done, don't forget to give yourself the merit badge you earned, the all Food is Good Food badge. You can find the merit badges at rebel Eatersclub dot com.
Just download the club starter pack. Once you have your merit badge, show me where you're putting it. Post on Instagram or Twitter with the hashtag Rebel Eaters Club All one word or tag us at Transmitter Pods. You can also find the merit badges on giffe so you can share the Rebel Eaters Club love all around the Internet and join me. Next week, we're talking to my friend Bailey about recovering from an eating disorder and learning about
self love. Like Buck accepting yourself, I Love Myself. Rebel Eaters Club is an original podcast from Transmitter Media, the podcast company that's like the last cream puff on the dessert tray. I'm Virgie Tovart. The show is produced by Lacy Roberts and Jordan Bailey, with help from James T. Green and Alex jong Laughlin. Our editor is Sarah Knicks. Greta Cohen is our executive produce Sir our show art is by Lucy la Perini. Like what you hear on the show and want to sponsor us, Visit us via
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