I am fat

I am not “big boned”. Okay, well, yes, I have hefty peasant bones, but that's not an accurate description of me. I am not “plus sized”, although I am a woman of size. I am not “fluffy”, although cushy is accurate.

I am fat.

It's simple, straight-forward, and descriptive. It is not bad. It is not good. It just is.

Once, when chatting with a group of women on a break during a conference, someone brought up how we kept coming back to food as a topic. One woman piped up with, “Well, we're women. Of course we have issues with food.”

My fat is a lot of things. It is armor. After a second instance of sexual abuse (right before puberty), I made a conscience decision to become fat because I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought I was sending out some kind of “sex signal” that I couldn't control. If I were fat, no one would want me and the sexual abuse would stop.

It also keeps a lot of people at a distance. Like it or not, our society vilifies fat people. Many people don't want to strike up a conversation with a fat person for fear they will “catch” being fat. Some people just don't want to be seen talking to someone who is fat. That keeps a lot of people away and keeps me in my protective cocoon.

My fat was a way I dealt with conflict, especially with my mother. After one of many fights, I would grab something fattening, hide in my closet, and think, You might have won the fight but you can't stop me from eating this! It gave me, however briefly, a feeling of control in a home life where I had no control.

Later in life, my fat became a big “Fuck you and your fascist beauty standards!” to the world. I felt like the world hadn't done me any favors so I wasn't go to cooperate and be thin for the world. It was an outward expression of my combativeness and unhappiness with my lot in life.

My fat was also a test. If someone could get past my fat to be interested in who I was, I knew they were worthy of my time. They weren't shallow. They weren't worried about what other people thought. They weren't sizist. They overlooked the exterior to find what was important.

My fat also taught me what was important in other people. I was/am fat and I wasn't/am not pretty, so I could never count of the privilege of beauty. Every grade I got, every achievement I attained, every job I had—I had to do all that the hard way. No one handed me one goddamned thing. I had to work and fight for everything I had (although I'm sure being Caucasian helped, but that's another post). Because I couldn't rely on my looks, I learned that looks weren't the end all and be all. That the value of a person wasn't in their face or figure but in their heart and mind. The way they treated others. Their compassion. That was important.

Not to say being fat was easy. Sizism is the last socially acceptable prejudice we have. People who would blanch at the tough of hurling a racial slur think nothing of making a snide remark when a fat person walks by. In our society, men are judged by what they do for a living and how much money they have. Women are judged by what they look like and who they marry. Women, far more than men, pay a price if they don't conform to popular beauty standards. They get openly mocked. They lose out on employment, benefits, and even housing. All while every form of media screams at them LOOK LIKE THIS! YOU LOOK WRONG! YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH! For many women, being hammered with that message everyday takes it's toll.

In our society, fat is short hand for “stupid, lazy, undisciplined”. Or even evil. The next time you watch some movies, pay attention to the size of the villains. Employers have those bigoted thoughts in mind when interviewing. They dismiss fat people without considering much else. Believe me, there is no way I could have come this far and achieve what I have by being stupid, lazy, or undisciplined.

Even people who feel good about themselves still fight an uphill battle every day.

Oh, folks will try to be delicate about it. “You're promoting an unhealthy lifestyle” = “Your size makes me uncomfortable for my own stupid reasons”. Asshole, you don't know the first thing about my lifestyle. You don't know me. And it is possible to be healthy and fat. I know! Medicine and the diet industry spends millions to convince us that this can't be true, but it can. If you are reasonably active and have the Big 3 (blood pressure, cholesterol, and blood sugar levels) under control, you're good.

My Big 3 are just fine, thank you.

Naturally, carrying around extra weight is hard on the body. But I'll tell you one thing. My legs have to carry me around everyday and they are scary strong. When I slipped on ice and fell straight down on my knee, it wasn't helpful that there was more pounds added to the momentum. But when I fell forward on my torso, I avoided additional injury with the extra padding. Big boobs and a belly are hard on my back so I'm extra nice to it. I lift and carry things properly. I stretch and don't push too hard. I know my body's limitations (which are surprisingly few) and work with my body.

So, I'm fat. That's not bad. That's not good. It just is. And the sooner we as a society get over ourselves and stop judging everyone by what they look like, the better off we'll be. In the meantime, we (especially women) need to stop worrying about what other people think. You don't know a lot of other people. Other people are a dime a dozen. The most important person to love you is you. You can't expect validation from the outside. You have to provide it for yourself. And I'm not talking about you with longer hair or 20 pounds from now. I'm talking about you right now. Because your body is just the container for your soul, your heart, and your mind. Those are the important things. That is what matters. And from what I can tell, your soul, heart, and mind are awesome. Appreciate them. Love yourself. And stop beating yourself up because you can't make other people happy.

Adel HEIDE