“It’s the food that you don’t eat in public. It’s the tears that sting the backs of your eyeballs throughout the day until you can release them into your pillow at night.”
I understand that a lot of people don’t ‘get’ what it feels like to be…fat. I honestly can’t blame them.
How can they, if they have never been fat, overweight, obese, large, big, huge, heavy, morbidly obese, before? Just the same as with anything else in life, we can’t TRULY understand unless we have actually experienced it before. This is just to give you a partial look into…a fat girls heart.
How does it feel?
It’s the assumption that people describe you by your size when explaining who you are, rather than on hair colour, personality, anything else. It’s the brick like weight pulling you down with every step you take – physically, and metaphorically.
It’s the scanning of the shop before you even enter, to determine if there are any clothes than may remotely fit. It’s the not entering of said shops to avoid awkward stares from non-fat sales girls. It’s the cupboard full of clothes that includes a little pile in the corner that actually fits.
It’s the pile of clothes that really, you would never choose if you had the choice: the oversized T-shirts to cover your hips; the cheap Size 26 3/4 pants that you are too afraid to wear because they could rip up the backside as soon as you bend over and it makes you wonder why they even made them in a big size with cheap material in the first place; the cardigans that you never button up because people may notice that 1 button is missing because you tried to hide your big stomach one day, and that would be more embarrassing than not buttoning up; the 4 pairs of staple shoes because every pair of shoes hurts.your.feet.; the fat singlets that you dream of one day not wearing; the pair of pants that is falling apart but you continue to wear it because you refuse to spend any more money on fat clothes because one day soon you won’t need to wear them, and besides, you don’t deserve new clothes.
It’s the stretch marks that you find before hopping in the shower that make your heart sink – you thought all of yours had faded. It’s the plasticine looking shoulders from when your bra straps dig into your shoulders, making you look like a Lego man with ridges.
It’s the deep seated panic that rises in your throat as soon as you take one step inside a shopping centre, on the street, on public transport, anywhere where there are people…people who could see how big you are…people who could stare…people who could whisper… It’s the following comfort you feel as soon as you enter a safe place (your car, or your home). It’s the magic of possibilities of how life would feel if you were a ‘normal’ weight that you allow yourself to dream of occassionally.
If you like this, try: ‘I’m morbidly obese, and I hate myself for it.’