You worry about how other people describe you. Are you "the heavyset girl"? Are you "larger"? "Overweight"? "Kinda big"? Are you, god forbid, "chunky"?
You look at other fat people and wonder if you are as fat, more fat, or less fat than they are. You look at hugely obese people and feel superior to them, until you remember you may one day become them. You wonder if you look as uncomfortable in your own skin.
You divide the world into Thin and Not Thin. You feel solidarity with the Not Thin, and vague distrust of the Thin.
You are hyperaware of every fat character on TV or in movies or in books. You see how they are portrayed-- lonely, desperate, and marginal. The rare positive portrayal makes you feel amazed and grateful. It feels like a reprieve.
You hate Renee Zellweger for talking about how "fat" she got for Bridget Jones. You hate Elizabeth Hurley for bashing Marilyn Monroe. You hate Gwyneth Paltrow for Shallow Hal. You hate that Jack Black is considered a sex symbol, while Mia Tyler is "Liv Tyler's fat sister." Of course, you love Queen Latifah.
You hate how the words "fat" and "ugly" are so often synonymous. You almost like the phrase "fat and ugly" because it implies the possibility of "fat and beautiful."
Your thin friend breaks up with someone and you don't really feel sorry for her. You know that you're the "fat friend" and she's the "skinny girl." It's the fat friend who can never get a date; the skinny girl can have whoever she wants. She gets Hugh Grant, and you'd be lucky to get Nick Nolte.
You know that no matter if you have "such a pretty face" or "a good personality," the majority of people won't look past your double chin and your flabby arms to figure that out.
You are the only one who seems to notice that Nicole Kidman looks like a chicken.
You browse personals ads, and every guy who specifies his preference for "slender" women (or "in-shape" or "athletic") makes you feel rejected. Every guy who says he wants a larger woman, you suspect of being a creepy fat fetishist. You know that no normal guy wants somebody just like you.
You hate Carnie Wilson. You hate every magazine article featuring Carnie fucking Wilson and how thin she is and how pretty she looks and how much she loves herself now. You think to yourself, "weight loss surgery is such a cop-out."
And then you think, "I wish I could afford it."
You cringe every time you are about to look at photos of yourself. You know what's coming--the inevitable picture where you look like an enormous cow and your friends say, "Oh, what a great picture of you!"
You worry about things that nobody else worries about. Fitting inside the booth at dinner. Being too fat for the amusement park rides. Sitting on your friend's couch and hearing a funny noise. Not being able to climb out of the backseat of a tiny car. Chafing.
Skinny people who complain about how they need to lose five pounds? You hate them. Slightly overweight people complaining about how fat they are? You hate them. You know it's irrational. You hate them anyway.
You feel uncomfortable anytime you hear a fat joke. You feel like it happens constantly. You feel like fat jokes are an acceptable form of cruelty. You see them everywhere.
People say things to you all the time. People yell, "Jenny Craig!" and "Wilson Phillips!" at you on the street. Little kids say, "Mommy, that lady's fat!" Even in foreign countries where fat is more acceptable, you hear, "You're a very beautiful lady but how much do you weigh?!" The worst part is, you're never alone when it happens. Other people hear it too, and all you can do is pretend like hell you didn't hear a thing. And you know your friends are standing there thinking, "I hope she didn't hear that..."
Then later you wish you had told them off. You wish you had turned to them and said, "Oh, are you saying I'm fat? Oh my god! I'm FAT?? I had NO IDEA! Thank god you were here to enlighten me!" Or maybe just ask them very quietly, "Why did you just say that? Was that supposed to be funny? How is that funny?" Or even an offhand, "Fuck you, asshole!" Maybe said with a laugh, like you don't even care.
You never see a body like yours portrayed as sexy or attractive. Not anywhere. Not by anyone. You stop believing you are sexy or attractive.
You hate anything that calls attention to your size. Trying on friends' clothes, putting on seat belts and having to adjust them, a muscular friend who can pick you up but can't lift you very far off the ground. A dozen things a day, it seems.
You hate to eat or drink in front of anyone. You are afraid you will be judged as pathetic if you eat a salad, or a disgusting pig if you eat a cheeseburger. All you know is, your choices will be judged. You're fat. Food is your enemy.
You wish you were invisible.
* * *
This is not me.
Don't get me wrong: I have felt all of those ways listed above. I have had all of those experiences. But that paints a very bleak picture of a very depressing life, and you all know that's not the way I do things around here.
I do have, however, an inner fat girl. She is the part of me that hates my body-- even my new, slimmer body. She is responsible for the times I look in the mirror and see unattractive bulges instead of womanly curves. She is the one doing the constant compare-and-contrast. She makes me tired.
Since the beginning of the year, I have been losing weight. I have gotten ever-closer to being the normal sized person I want to be, who doesn't have to struggle with these issues. But I also feel like I have betrayed my inner fat girl. I have betrayed her, and I am running away from her, because she makes me sad.
There's an alternative--I just don't know how to get there. I don't know how to convince her that she's wrong about everything. I don't know how to tell her that she was beautiful all along.
