Frenzied Fitness Freaks

Running, squatting, power-walking, spinning, yoga-ing, and rolling around on large balls. All kind of cool in moderation and healthy except when you see the desperation and panic on ppl's faces as they are literally trying to run away from themselves - leaving any hint of fat in their dust.
When I see mothers with their newbies balanced on their legs as they do backwards squats against a park bench, I think it is safe to say we have collectively lost it as a culture. The public display that should be humiliating is a badge of honour stating "I reject fat and sloth - see....look.....I've had a baby but I am working out at every possible opportunity to ensure everyone knows how committed I am to not getting fat". Instead of revelling in the nubile fecundity of motherhood, the post-partum fear of body change has older demographic moms transforming into stick people with bauble heads. Reminiscent of vintage car deoderizers that adorned the back of my mother's Pontiac Parisienne. I see these gals everywhere in yuppie-villes around TO. Almost prehistoric looking in their scrawniness. The natural extension of this weird phenomenon is contempt for the fat. "For those who refuse to surrender to the hamster wheel lifestyle will be shunned!"
Gone is any tolerance or understanding of diversity in body types. I often flash back to walking down the hall of my suburban highschool looking at the multitude of body types - and realize the landscape has changed so dramatically that most of these bodies have disappeared. It's uni-body time - there is one prototype and if one fails to comply, well you know the drill.
Perhaps undereating and exercise bulimia will keep women more sexually attractive, more loveable, happily partnered, younger, healthier and ultimately immortal, but what a way to live. I know many of these folks whose partners fuck around on them regardless of how nuts they are about staying small! A terrified frenzy is embedded in current fitness rituals under the guise of zen, mindful, yoga-ness. It's all the same crap just packaged differently to appeal to a savvier market. The internalized horror of losing one's partner, social network and/or social position if they were to become fat, is the unspoken rationale for all the dashing about in ill-fitting yoga pants.
How does one reconcile living with their life partner while knowing that if they were to get fat they would leave them. As a feminist, humanist, anything-ist, it is downright gross - to use Grade 7 language. I am not naive, but cannot accept sizism as a necessary element of society. I would prefer to continue to schlep along in fatty fringe-land and know that those who love me are authentic.