Out of Context: How Being Fat Made Me a Better Friend

Fat. People do not like that word. They don’t wish to be called fat and they don’t like to hear others refer to themselves as fat. That is my word of choice. I could state that I am morbidly obese, which based on doctor’s measurements, I am. That just sounds like the creeping death and essentially it is. I could say that I am fluffy which has a bit of Southern charm. Still, that isn't an accurate description. Fluffy implies that my obesity is comparable to a kitten.

It’s not.

The first time that clothes at The Limited no longer fit me, I cried. When my friend suggested that we walk across the mall to Lane Bryant, I argued, but went out of desperation for clothes that fit. She and the sales lady were very supportive and picked out several nice things for me to try on that day. I wept in the fitting room for an hour like a baby.

I had been in full denial of what depression and binge-eating had done to me physically.

I tried to accentuate my figure, but I looked more like a stuffed sausage than a statuesque bombshell. In hindsight, it was embarrassing. After that, I hid behind clothes that were very somber with little strain. That turned to letting myself go completely because what was the purpose? I felt like I was just trying to sell a rag doll as a porcelain rarity.

I noticed that people treated me differently as time went passed.

After crossing the threshold of a plus-size woman, any attempt to buy clothing for my younger and smaller framed sisters was immediately met with a saleswoman who would say, “Clothing for full-figured women are over there.” At first, I lashed out and let them have it like I was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman and they had just lost some great commission. Realizing that places like Dillard’s didn't make commission, I eventually started to sulk away instead of stating my purpose.

I have hidden behind these smaller beauties for years in pictures. 

I eventually began to accept that I was a big girl. I dealt with it through self-deprecating jokes and comments about how I was a real woman. I was no more a real woman than any other woman, but it was how I masked the shame of walking in my skin.

Going out with my husband presented problems as well. On three occasions, as I was much larger than The Ex Husband and The New Husband, waitresses have made flirtatious passes towards whom I was with at dinner. I know that some waitresses are a bit flirty with the man because they assume they will get a bigger tip. This is not what I am talking about in regards to the three incidences. Nope. These were outright attempts to get dates. Once I flashed my wedding ring (okay, I made a scene and cussed the girl out the first time it happened), the waitress became very sheepish. One even said, “I didn't realize that you were together.” The prevailing attitude appeared to be that a thinner guy must be with a larger woman for fetish reasons or for pity; it did not seem to occur to some that I could be loved.

I had been called many names in my life. I had even been called fat. However, when you become a teacher of teenagers, everything about your outward appearance, expressions, and mannerism can easily be turned into an insult. It isn't because teenagers are awful people who want to hurt everyone on a deeply personal level; it is that they have raging hormones and a lack of control that turns their fits of anger full into pure vitriol. Fat, ugly, and dumb seem to be the favorite adjectives to add an unflattering name when a teenager is triggered.

Teachers, avoiding this facial expression and the use of a pointer finger while explaining instructions that were plainly listed will save you from triggering a teenage tantrum. 

Yet, adults have called me worse with the same adjective, most recently a neighbor who happens to be much larger than I am.  People like my neighbor are just hateful, but some of the best meant comments hit the proverbial gut even harder. People would randomly say things to me like, “You have such a pretty face. You should try to be a plus-size model.” Plus-size models are actually the size of the average American woman and I was way larger than that.

If these models are considered Plus Size, then I must be Super-Sized.

I also suffered years of unsolicited dieting advice. I have even had co-workers who would make commentary on what I was eating. During a meeting a couple of years ago, one of my co-workers said, “That salad would be healthy if you didn't have cheese in it.” Maybe so, but I was so embarrassed and hurt. Meanwhile, the hypocrisy was that several of my co-workers were using fad products or starving themselves while “helping” me.

At an art show once, I noticed that a lady kept staring at me. It was a very uncomfortable stare and I could feel that this person was full of rage. When she approached me, she said, “Do you remember me?” I did not and this turned her rage into full wrath. She said, “You were the cruelest person that I ever met and you made fun of my every day in junior high and you don’t even remember me?” She was very beautiful, articulate, and fit; she shredded every ounce of dignity that I had left.

Having lost the things that allowed me to be a wannabe Barbie, I had to reevaluate who I was and who I had been in life. I had not been kind to others. I could easily find someone’s weakness or insecurity and I would use it to tear them down to somehow make myself feel better. As I mentioned in How Blondes Made Me Fat, I had no love for myself. It is easy to see and hard to accept.

Yet, this is when I stopped suppressing the things about myself that were truly valuable and could not be built from plastic. I started to allow myself to stop acting like I was a bimbo. 

I actually began to engage in intellectual conversations and to explore my options in life. Deep down, I had wanted to be an educator since I was in 2^nd grade. 

I mean it when I say that teaching is my dream job. I love it!

I was also a closet geek lover. I was not necessarily a full-blown fan girl, but I loved Sci-Fi and Fantasy. I only got to experience that through the guys in my life when I was on Mission Barbie (Fun Loud Fact: Every serious relationship that I have ever had has required frequent trips to the comic book store). I was also very serious and tried my hardest to not be goofy. In reality, I am an extremely goofy and playful soul. It wasn't until I became fat, that I allowed myself to embrace these things about myself.

It is rumored that The Honey Island Swamp Monster is my real father.

It did not bode well with me when I realized that I was a D.U.F.F. (Designated Ugly Fat Friend) that was used to enhance the attractiveness of an already beautiful friend. I became a walking character foil. Because my self-hatred was so extreme, I reverted back to using my aggressive wit and loud mouth as an endeavor to maintain value with a group of toxic people. I was proud to be “The Enforcer.” I was not permitted to be vulnerable, frail, or nice outwardly because it wasn't what the other Barbie wannabes wanted from me as I approached 250 pounds.

After a string of events that demonstrated that I had allowed my feelings of worthlessness control my life, I had to walk away from it all. I left my first marriage, as well as the other Barbie wannabes.

When you drop the things that superficial people want to use you for, you become very solitary.

This lead me to selecting actions that I needed to take in my life; I allowed myself to be loved for the things that could not be picked up in a mirror. I grew closer to my family than I had been in years. I married a man that has loved me equally regardless of my size because the things that he loves about me cannot be weighed or measured. I learned how to start loving myself because I had a child who needed me to be whole in order to be the best mom that he could have.

I hide behind him in pictures, too. He loves me all the same. 

I also became more mindful of how I talked to others who did not look like society suggested they should. I made eye contact, I made conversation, I made sincere compliments, and I made real connections with real people. Becoming fat should have been the most difficult thing for me, but the most difficult thing was actually confronting the cruel and fake person that I used to be. Becoming fat did to me was give me perspective and an acceptance of those who are different than mainstream society. In fact, I embrace different now.

A true friend is always willing to make a fool of themselves with you. 

As I am working to develop healthy eating and exercising habits, I cling to my geeky, silly, and idiot-savant (I still have some airhead moments, but they are never intentional). I am on my path of losing an excess of 80 lbs. that came from a self-hatred, but gave me a love of life and people. Part of that love of life is the excitement of giving that little boy who used to love to cuddle with his “fluffy” mommy, a mommy who can run wild with him on great imaginary adventures. 

He requires an active mom. Photo courtesy of one my sisters. 

Most importantly, being fat forced me to stop being a bully because I learned what it felt like to be treated sub-par. I do not want to raise a child to make people feel that way, so it is my job to teach him by always striving to do better. 

My next weight-related entry will be – The Gym Verse: “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.”

Until next time, BE LOUDER THAN MOST!!!!