Interview with the Fat Girl

Greetings, Readers!  Or rather, "Hi Mom!" since that is most likely my audience currently.  I'm alright with that.  This is really just a place for me to emotionally vomit my every idea and thought for all the world to see.  Wow, now that I've read that in black and white, it's a bit unnerving.  Now I'm relieved it's just my mom!

Well, to quote Louis from Interview with the Vampire, "Shall we begin like David Copperfield.  I am born...  I grow up...?" Or shall we begin when I was born to...Fatness, as I call it. (Yes, I am a fan of Interview with a Vampire...back when Vampires didn't look like they were the love child of Dracula and Tinkerbell.  Sparkling vampires, hmmph)

I haven't always been fat, or even chubby.  I was 8 lbs 10 oz when I was born, which is fairly good size for a baby.  I was a "gerber baby" with chubby little rolls and big cheeks, but as I got older, I slimmed out.  I was downright skinny until I was in about 6th or 7th grade.  Thanks to good old puberty, I got a little "huskier."  In High School I walked a lot to get to any friends houses and swam all summer long, so even though I was gaining a bit, it was curbed mostly by my high level of exercise.  I am 5'5" and I graduated at 180 lbs.  Overweight, but not ready for Sumo training by any stretch of the imagination.  Then came college, which wouldn't have been so bad except it necessitated a job (at a Pharmacy with lots of free time and candy) and a driver's license.  Those two combined were the impetus for my foray into the world of Plus Size fashion (or lack thereof).  By the time I was 21 in 1999, I was 235 and a size 18/20.  By the time I hit 25, I was about 250 and a 22/24.  During this time, I was in a steady relationship (read: long term, not steady like not chaotic...it was hell) so I didn't much pay attention nor care that I was gaining.  It just didn't really occur to me.  When that boyfriend and I split, I was out clubbing most nights (I'm a recovering Goth) and making friends and getting male attention were non-issues, so again, I didn't care or give thought to my size.  By then, fashion had, for the most part, caught up with the idea that the vast majority of America is NOT a size 6 and retailers like Torrid and Lane Bryant were coming up with cute clothes that made me feel sexy and confident.  It was during this time I was diagnosed with ultra rapid-cycling manic-depressive disorder, which means my brain chemicals are wonky and although I tend to lean more to the manic, occasionally I have a depressive swing, but they're usually short-lived.  Because of this, I was making horrible decisions - spending money I didn't have, sleeping with people I didn't love, and just flushing my life generally down the crapper.  Once I was diagnosed and my doctors were able to medicate me to bring my chemicals into balance, it's like a whole new world opened up to me.  However, some of those medications, do cause additional weight gain and, insult to injury, make it very difficult to get the weight back off.  Luckily for me, my medication is one of the less horrific ones and hasn't been as bad as it could be.  Now that I'm 34, I'm not ashamed to say I weigh 325. 

So, that is how I gained it.  But there is more to the story.  Some would read the story and say, "Oh, how sad." Or expect me to now tell you how I plan to drink Hydroxycut or reroute my bowels and lose 100 lbs.  But that's not my journey.  I went on my first diet August 2006.  My now husband had proposed and we were doing a "Quickie wedding" in Vegas in October.  My mother and I went to find a suitable dress and my options were sorely lacking.  I didn't want a big white travesty of a dress anyway, but the biggest size they had in anything at all was a 26, I was closer to a 28.  So I went on Weight Watcher and lost 17 lbs and fit into a 26, plum colored, floor length satin dress and I loved it. 

What I traded, however, was being comfortable in my own skin and accepting myself for the way I was.  I began chasing one diet after another, feeling like a failure if I didn't live up to my expectations rather than realizing I didn't fail the diet, simply the diet failed me.  I began to view my body as this disgusting lump of flesh that I need to manipulate and hide.  I stopped going places by myself.  I would only go grocery shopping with my husband if I got to push the basket, as if the cart would somehow hide me and not let anyone see I was fat.  I wouldn't go to the mall.  I started mail ordering everything.  I stopped living life.  I felt like I had to go to Omar the Tent Maker to get anything that fit and had destroyed my self esteem so much that I felt like a side show at a circus.  And it was ALL in my head.  No one treated me any different.  No one made comments.

We, as a culture, tend to be pretty narcissitic.  We think that people are thinking about us and judging us more often than they actually are.  Truth is, most people are too busy worrying about themselves to even care about what you are doing.  And if they did, should we care?  It's one thing when well meaning relatives slap us on the tummy and say, "Hold your tummy in!" or "What are you eating?" because you know they don't mean to be hurtful, they're just making a statement either out of concern or lack of thought.  It's not meant to be antagonistic.  But when someone across the street yells "HEY FATTY!" or when you're walking through a club and you hear someone tell their friend, "Isn't there a weight limit to get into this club?" and you have to lay them out on the floor (true story!) why do we care?  Why do we let someone who we don't even know define how we view ourselves?

So I did something about it.  I started to look into the Fat Acceptance movement.  I began reading "Health at Every Size" and discovered just because you're fat, doesn't mean you're destined to be sick.  Eat your veggies, cut out the processed crap in a box because it isn't real food, exercise doing something you love (not running on a treadmill like a damn hamster - unless you love that sort of thing), and focus on being happy and healthy.  Throw out your scale.  Don't let the impact of what the number says define who you are.  If you want chocolate, have some, and make sure it's hella good chocolate and ENJOY it.  I personally am trying to avoid things like wheat, flour, and rice because they are inflammatory to your system and wear out your pancreas out faster, but you do you.  We all walk a separate journey. 

It's been a rough road, but I'm finally arriving at a place of acceptance and self love.  I can look at pictures and truly appreciate what I see in the mirror.  Instead of picking things apart, I can appreciate the whole.  I find beauty not only in myself, but others of all shapes and sizes.  I no longer look at other women and judge them for being skinny and I no longer play the "Am I the fattest girl in the room" game.  I am far from perfect at it, but each day it gets a little easier.  It's so remarkably freeing.  And the journey continues...


Come on back next time when I will share my long crazy road from Wiccan to Christian...