A fellow fat friend shared this article by Your Fat Friend in my feed today. It's actually been so popular that the service keeps knocking out (so just a heads up). Though I have not gone through any significant weight loss, I know these things to be true, and have my own life to share on this experience. If you've spent any time reading this very new blog, you'll know that I am, in fact, a fat girl. There are two posts (here and here) showing just that. It's not even unheard of for me to participate in those making yourself into a character, and choosing the largest size to better represent myself, like I did here for the Mad Men Yourself. I even try to accurately represent myself in my illustrations, drawing myself larger than the "average" thin girl (as I know there is no one way to be so "average" is in quotes). But I didn't always accept myself the way that I was. No, I too was lulled into this similar false sense of security pertaining to magic altars of thinness. I would wish every night before bed to be thinner. To be something more and something different; the very thing that my parents wished that I was. The thing that most everyone else whom I encountered wished that I was. The skinny child. The thin, waif-ish child. The little girl who looked more like her older sister or that of her friends. I'd latch onto someone else's weight and that is what I'd wish for. In the fourth grade it was Edwina's weight of 64 pounds. In the 6th grade it was Derek's weight of 120 pounds. I'd cry and pray and hope and wish and completely make myself ill over this magical thinness. I technically wasn't even fat as a child. I was just the genetical anomaly. I was bigger (and darker) than all of the white people that I knew, including my parents. People who's own youths had seen them rail thin until the ultimate inevitability of baby weight that mothers have to lose, or the fill out that men go through in their thirties. I was the product of Paul and Jill and yet looked nothing like my older sister, or them,, which they felt that I should. Even other white people, whose own offspring were rail thin and looked like them, were something I was compared to on a near constant basis. "Why can't you look more like __________?" It always sparks some sentiment in me when I watch that scene in Little Miss Sunshine. They are eating breakfast on the road and she wants the pancakes with ice cream. Her dad is trying to talk to her about being fat, while the mom and grandpa think he's completely in the wrong. The girl doesn't understand what she's done wrong. That is my childhood in a nutshell, only my own mother didn't have my back so to speak. Happy, carefree, being me; and adults trying to tell me I'm wrong for things that I can't even control. I didn't choose to get married and have kids and pass on my genetics. I was merely the product of said DNA coupling and this is what everything co-mingling in my moms womb decided to make. Most of the time reading other peoples blogs about the issue of fat, they are either skinny people who ended up gaining weight and are struggling with body image, or were in fact fat children who grew into fat adults and have always struggled with body image of this nature. Yet, I fall into this weird, in-between category. I did not officially become overweight until my early twenties, but was treated as a fat person since I was about six. My magical wishing wouldn't start until about age eight, because this is when I believed the adults that something was wrong with me; that I was this hideously ginormous fat girl and that it was a terrible thing that must be righted. I don't blame my parents, though I did for a small time when I realized all of this in my late twenties, and put all of these pieces together. Their own parents were skinny, they were skinny children, all of their friends were skinny, everyone they knew looked like their siblings and parents in some shape or form. Having a child born that is genetically theirs, but also cobbled together in a way that is too different, must have been a total loop-de-loop for them. Grounds have been gained since my birth in the areas of general knowledge to the public about genetics and weight. The BMI calculations are changing, people are learning that it is 100% genetically possible to have a red headed child in an all black headed family or any other combination. My parents, however, learned that like follows like in regards to genetics and potential off-spring. You'll look just like your parents. Any children you have will look like you. Isn't that neato?! Fat was also never a discussion for topic. If your child wasn't thin it was because they were eating too much or not getting enough exercise and never because of this crazy genetics thing, and thus they should be starved into thinness; and the child was seen as a blight on the family; because it meant that they'd somehow failed as a parent. Without knowledge, I can't really fault them for sticking with the only things they knew; the only things they were taught. It didn't help that medical professionals also told my parents that I was morbidly obese. Yes, in those photo's up there that I just posted of me as a child. Not even merely a little overweight as one might expect of the time period, but morbidly obese. Morbidly obese! What's really sad is that it wasn't just me. We'd have health days at school and medical people would check our BMI's and we'd do all sorts of exercises. I was the only white kid who wasn't perfect... and most of the black girls were considered fat to morbidly obese too. Strictly because the BMI wasn't allowing for various types of bodies. Not all black girls are tiny skinny like my friend Edwina. All those black girls being sent home, upset, because medical professionals told them they were not perfect enough. We were only seven year olds! It took me a long time to overcome my conditioning. Every instance of calling out my fat was another marker in my belt of failures. My mom signed me up for a fat camp; one for kids. It was located in the basement of the hospital near the morgue; where all things that should remain hidden go. Any other events they had were held upstairs, just so you know. I worked very hard; logging what I ate accurately, adhering to the diet, getting all of my exercise in and yet I failed completely. Every single week, the first thing done was a weigh in. All the other kids had lost weight at each weigh in and were praised on the work they'd done, though most had lied on their food and exercise sheets. I know, because it's what kids talk about; it's what they talked about to me, a fellow kid in their midsts. And every week I'd stand on the imposing scale and wouldn't have lost any weight or would have gained a few pounds and I was admonished for not trying hard enough. I was even shamed in front of the class at the end of it all by being pointed out as a failure and not receiving a certificate. All of the adults in charge thought that I was lying because everyone loses weight when they try hard enough, right? Actually, not right. According to 1988 that was correct, but we now know that that isn't always the case. Particularly if that person doesn't really have any fat to lose. I had baby kid fat like anyone sure; some girls have a bit more than others even if they are skinny, and if you try to make them lose weight, they won't lose that until the body thinks it's time to let that go. And if you're mostly made of muscle and not excess fat, then you'll only be building more muscle or won't have any fat to lose; which in all honestly I think is what was going on with that weight loss program for kids. Even my mother shamed me about the entire affair thinking that I must have been lying about what I did. It really only made me feel that I was as disgustingly horribly fat as everyone thought that I was and is pretty much the tipping point for me trying to wish I was skinny and beautiful. Now at 37 I can agree with Your Fat Friend about her article. But in a weird, round about way. I only ever gained weight and twice did I lose any. I didn't even try to lose weight, like I had during my teen years, struggling through diet after diet that I didn't need to be on (not even because I technically wasn't fat, but because fad crash diets are terrible for anyone, especially girls not fully developed yet). I just ended up losing some weight by the time I hit thirty. Perhaps it is because I'd worked through some baggage that I didn't realize was holding me back. Perhaps I was simply eating less. Perhaps it was just my body changing, as women's bodies are want to do at certain ages. I didn't change my diet and I didn't start exercising, but I did lose one pant size. So, I went from a size 26 to a size 24. It's not even a big difference. I mean it was in how I felt, as it felt better and doing things wasn't as cumbersome or slow as before, but it wasn't anything dramatic. Perhaps simply me thinking it was fantastic made me feel fantastic and that made me exude fantasticness? Because you would have thought, from people's reactions, that the Staypuft Marshmallow Man was almost like a super model. Which, I agree, it seems ridiculous, right? Because I had guys staring at me or wanting to buy me drinks or asking me out. And it was completely uncomfortable for me. I hated it. It wasn't even a lot of attention. Two guys staring at me/paying attention to me, one guy wanting to buy me a drink and two guys asking for my number within the span of a year. But it was five guys too many. Then I gained some weight back. Then I was ill and couldn't eat and lost weight again. It turned out that my gallbladder had twisted itself up and when it would flare up I would be sick, and so for an entire year I pretty much couldn't eat because I didn't really know what was causing it (the doctor had said gastritis which I think is a general term and simply to take antacids). So people said I looked good during that year. Again it was only one pant size, so it's not like I dropped from a 26 to a 20 or 26 to an 8. It was one size; 26 to 24. And I hated it, because I was always in so much pain and couldn't eat and people were telling me how great I looked. I didn't want to look good like this. Besides I thought I looked alright before I became ill and couldn't eat, ya know! Which we'll get to in a minute. Of course, after the surgery I could eat again and well, I'm back up to a size 26. And well, it's difficult to convey how hurt it made me feel. First, that I was ill and in pain, yet I was told how good I looked. Second, my illness was so bad and had gone so far (because it hadn't been diagnosed properly) that emergency surgery was needed... and no one seemed to care. I gain some weight back because I can finally eat again and I'm told that I look bad or that "I can tell you've gained weight and you looked better before." Weight and worth; perception and acceptance are all tangled up in this broad view of society and are also fine lines we're all walking. While Your Fat Friend mentions dramatic weight loss, which I have no experience in as I've said, she does go on to state things like that the viewer of said fat person doesn't know if the reason for their weight loss is illness or not. And it is kind of true. It can be also true of weight gain, you never know if it's something medically making that happen or not. I did tell the people I was close to how ill I was and that I couldn't eat. They'd seen how I'd lost some weight, knew that I had emergency surgery, but I think somehow, to them, it just didn't correlate as one thing going along with the other. I'm sure she means random strangers, but I can jump on board with that assessment if it's true for people who know you too. I think because of societal conditioning, fat people are only ever fat simply because they sit around and gorge themselves on junk food all day and that if they lose weight it's only because of dieting and exercise, or perhaps a type of surgery. Yet, I know from personal experience that it isn't true, besides the myriad of blogs I've read by fellow fat ladies stating that they do work out a lot or limit their food intakes and still they can not lose weight. Or the ladies that state that they don't sit around and eat nothing but junk food all the time; that they are active and while they do indulge occasionally like anyone would, they actually eat good for you food and implement portion control. And while I've never lost enough weight to notice excess saggy skin (though I do have it in my arms, but it's not for this reason) I have known people who have related that horror story to me, and that without cosmetic surgery, which they can't afford, they're stuck with it, because you can't exercise that away. Which leads me back into my acceptance and when I let go of all that magical hogwash. It's fine if a person wants to be thinner, but I'll always find it sad if they're not doing it for themselves. In all my attempts I never was and when I look back on those years it is sad to me. I, personally, do want to lose weight, but not really that much. I wouldn't want to go any lower than size 18 or 20 and really I'd be fine at 22 or even 24. Only because I've felt 24 and it actually felt really good. I had a spring in my step and a size 24 for my height (5'2" - 5'2 1/2") is still considered really freaking fat and probably morbidly obese even by today's standards. I gave up the "appropriate" size for my height a long time ago, just like I gave up on 120 and 64 years before that. In high school I was 190. That's extremely overweight for the "typical" 5'2"-er. But it looked good on me. Fantastic even. But I couldn't see it until I'd gone to the other side of fat girl land. But, I feel that I would not be comfortable even that small. If I got attention at size 24, then what would size 14/16 be? I shudder to even think about it. So, the other side of fat girl land, you might be wondering what that is? It's basically finding yourself worth not wrapped up in image. It's being able to be on this side of scale, looking back down it and seeing your life through the sizes and not much caring. You don't need to be skinny because other people tell you to; whether it's your family, friends, random strangers, advertisements, or even films. You don't feel the need to cover up all of your fat bits to appease others, or to wear Spanx in order to help other people come to terms with your fatness. It certainly doesn't mean that you think you are better than everyone else, or that you hate all the skinny bitchez. You just love yourself. Which is a taboo concept in society, no matter what size you are or what you look like, I have come to notice. But, I couldn't notice it, until I let all of those shackles shake free. And it is not an easy obstacle to overcome by any means. Everyone's path is different and they'll come to it when the time is right for them. But, one needs to work from the inside out; to figure out all of the past, some or most of which you've had hidden and might not even realize it's there; or perhaps you do, but you're simply not ready to tackle it yet, in which case you're not ready. But when you are, tackling it will be challenging. I had to come to terms with the fact that my parents saw me as lesser than, that my mother policed my food habits and had others police it for her, that my own mother starved me, that I listened to the lies and poison and gave in. That I became a disgusting fat girl just like everyone else saw me, and possibly even more people saw that because I was giving off that vibe (not that fat is disgusting, but that's what I was taught, so is what I saw myself as, and what I exuded to the world). It made me cry... a lot. And it made me cry some more. It hurt my soul. It wasn't easy to realize this or face even my own truths in the matter. But, I also had to learn to forgive. If I hadn't I'd be miserable and cynical and hateful. Why would I want that? I don't. So, I forgave my parents, I forgave all of those other people, and more importantly I forgave myself. It's not that what any one of us did was right, but there are always grey area's to a situation. They were doing what they felt was best and I was only a child who didn't know that I could buck the system. While it was difficult to forgive others, it was easier than forgiving myself. I still hated my child self and who she was, because she hadn't been "good enough". I didn't even realize that I was still hating her, until she came to me in a dream. The dream was an accurate representation of my child self and people were picking on her and being cruel. That is what changed everything for me, that dream. I ran to her and held her and cried and said, "I'll never let anyone hurt you any more. No one, not even me." I woke up crying from that dream because I'd realized that I'd been the cruelest and most hurtful to myself, but I no longer hate myself. Any part of myself, not even my child self. After realizing my fat journey, but before that dream, I'd started new things, but was on shaky ground. It's really hot where I live, yet I was always wearing jeans or pants and t-shirts. So, I had started wearing shorts and even tank tops. My body was ready for these changes, as it was ready to not sweat to death in too many clothes, but my emotions weren't ready for it really. People stared, people made snide remarks or sneered their faces in disgust. The people were letting me know that they found it absolutely disgusting that I'd show off my chubby legs or my flappy arms. Sometimes I still felt self-concious and wanted to cover up. After the dream though, things changed within me emotionally. People still do these things, but I find that I hardly ever notice and when I do I just think that they can go fuck themselves and I keep going on with my day. So whether you're staying fat or are in the process of the large amount of weight loss, you're not going to look good to a lot of people out there on the streets and they'll let you know in various ways. It's hard to deal with and it can be constant. As a fat girl who covered up, I had mastered the art of hiding, so to speak. Once I dropped a single pant size or decided to uncover my arms or legs, I became a huge flashing neon lighted target just waiting to be attacked. It is very well something that could happen to you, especially if you've been in hiding for so long. And interest from people is very likely to happen as well. And while Your Fat Friend states that you may or may not feel a particular way about it, it's true, as everyone is different. A friend of mine wanted to lose weight and also did not want a boyfriend until she did so, because she did not want anyone to date her as a fat girl because that seemed creepy to her. I can get on board with that, because it is a bit weird to me too if a man only has one certain thing that he's into because then it seems like a fetish and also that he might want to starve you so that he can later make a skin suit out of you. However, my thing was flipped. I absolutely would not date a guy I'd known while fat, who now found me attractive only since I've lost some weight. It seems like a jerk move. "Oh, I'm only good enough for you now?! I don't think so!" But then I have also lost the will to partner up with anyone. I used to want a boyfriend and possible husband, but I've thought a lot about this. Since my teen years I'd have this weird struggle. Where mostly I wanted to be alone and only once in awhile this diachotomy would spring up, where I felt I had to have a boyfriend in my life and not be alone... and yet the idea also wasn't for me. I also compared it to a potluck dinner. It seems fun to get together with people and everyone brings a dish, yet people will bring things that don't agree with you and most of the food smells funny and unappetizing. So, to me, being with another person was like a potluck dinner. It seemed like something I should want, but really I don't want to go there. So after weighing everything I felt about all of it, I really don't think I want a life partner. I think that I was conditioned to want one. Everyone else pairs off, my own mother paired off, she was stating how important it was to bag a man and have someone, like it was this weird rite of passage and you're a failure if you don't end up with someone. It's like a club I never wanted to belong to, but somehow was tricked into thinking that I did. It's all fine and well if people want to pair off. I'm not against it, I just really think that it's not something that I really want or would like. I had to really think about it and figure out what I wanted and not that it was merely what other people felt I should be doing. Reminds me of the film Runaway Bride. I've seen it, didn't care much for it, except the part about eggs sticks with me. She had absolutely no idea which way she preferred to eat eggs, as she'd always just gone along with what her potential husband liked. And I think most everyone is like this on various things, and it doesn't have to be related to love or romance. You grow up doing things that were taught to you by your parents but few people ever stop to really think if it's also for them. Just take eggs for example. I grew up eating scrambled eggs that my mother prepared and cream of wheat. I just accepted that these were things one ate for breakfast. But later I actually sat down and thought about it and I detest cream of wheat and I also detest the way that my mom prepares scrambled eggs, though scrambled by just about anyone else and I like them (mom adds milk and the eggs are these tiny little blogs of eck. Almost like cottage cheese but it's eggs - you can probably see why I'm not a fan). It seems funny but it took that movie to make me think, "Huh... I don't know what type of eggs I really like either!" and I decided on fried and scrambled (not mom's though) and poached only if it's eggs benedict and never ever boiled; either hard or soft, in case you were wondering. And you might be wondering why I'm on this weird egg tangent, but it actually set me to doing this type of deductive work with all aspects of my life. Am I just following blindly along with this or that? Or is it really me? I wanted to know. And this questioning and figuring out was actually quite helpful in the fat vs body image area of my life. I didn't want to follow what other people felt I should be. I wanted to actually be me. So, I figured out that I don't want to be miserably hot in the climate that I live in, and actually want to wear seasonally appropriate clothing; despite what others think. I adore swimming and want to enjoy doing that in a swim suit where people can see lots of me, vs me covering up or not participating because it's what others think I should be doing. I want to eat and enjoy the food that I want to eat and enjoy and I don't want to pick at it and starve myself simply because I'm eating in front of others. I do enjoy healthy food like roasted vegetables and salads and quinoia and the like, but I don't want to order a small salad when I'm not in the mood for one, or I'm actually more hungry than just a side salad, damnit. And if I want to bake strawberry shortcakes from scratch and eat some, then by jove I'm gonna do it! I also like being single. And my true nature is to remain so and not be partnered with anyone. And I won't deny going to a public space with other skinny people simply because I'll be showing too much skin. The people in the photo below don't appear to judge me by my looks (as I've never felt anything coming off of them nor have I seen them making faces), however there are certainly people that frequent the yoga studio that do have a strong opinion on the fact that I shouldn't be there with them. Which is ridiculous and is as ridiculous as people ridiculing the fat girl at a swimming pool. These are healthy things; swimming and yoga (and aromatherapy), and considering that those skinny people feel that fat people should be healthier, then I have every right to be there doing something healthy. Their lack of logic is lost on me. There are other things, but as far as body image and fat go, these are the big one's. This post was all over the place, but there was a lot I needed to say apparently. But, I am at a good place in life. I don't even know how much I weigh, because our scale doesn't go up that high, but I'm probably 280 - 350? A size 26 in pants. I'm not beautiful by any stretch of the word for society, in looks or body. But I completely accept me as I am, and I love me as I am. My body and I have been through a lot & it really was wrong of me to hate it and treat it so harshly. Now, we're a partnership. We're doing us the best way that we know how and if we lose some weight, then OK great. And if not, then that's perfectly fine with me too. I won't even again tell my body that it's shameful or in some way wrong and certainly I won't be telling it that it's hideous or anything of the like. I have a swimsuit and a place to swim in the summers and that is super happy and exciting. And I swim too like a fish or an otter. I have access to yoga and aromatherapy classes too. I may not have many clothes (from lack of funds and also lack of options), but I do have clothes; and things so I'm not dying of heat in the summertime. I may never be able to cross my legs, but I have legs and they work perfectly. I may never be able to wear boots (even as a child I couldn't wear boots because I have big calves), but my feet work and I have other shoes that I can wear. I may never be able to do a handstand (because I never could), but I can sit cross legged and on my knees, which lots of people have trouble with. I grew tired of wallowing in self pity of all the things that I couldn't do, when theoretically even if I lost a lot of weight, I probably wouldn't be able to do anyways. I couldn't do them as a kid when all the other kids could, which means my body just isn't made for it. But, I do know things that I am able to do and I can work on improving those to be the best me that I can be instead of wondering over what-if's that aren't even possible. It was also a freeing realization that I didn't have to be my sister. That I shouldn't even be my sister, because I am not my sister. It was freeing to realize that if I were to lose enough weight to match her in bodily looks, I would look extremely sickly. It's just fine and perfect for her because that is who she is. But it's not for me at all. I even drew an illustration about this very thing. Even though... I have all these things that are considered "wrong" with me by societies standards, I am still in good health; and I listed all the things that I am able to do. These are things I used to agree were wrong with me, but I no longer do this.
My body is a part of me and a huge part of me (no pun intended), but it isn't all of me. I'm a whole person inside of this shell. I won't disregard the shell, but it doesn't completely define me. And I won't set my standards any lower. I know what I'm worth now, regardless of what anyone else thinks. They can be my friend and accept everything of me, or they can go fuck themselves, and that's just the way it's gotta be.
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AuthorA girl from South Mississippi who finds herself in exploration. Archives
November 2019
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