One of the worst things in this life someone thinks they can be is fat. You can hear it in almost every context in any place. Someone can’t eat that cookie or they’ll be fat. They'll say, “I’m such a fatty today,” or my personal favorite, “God, I would kill myself if I was fat!” As a fat person, I can tell you there are worse things you can be. You could be homophobic, racist, or -- you know -- someone who judges others by how much they weigh.
Fatness is something that I’ve had to think about since I was in the fifth grade. I have always been heavy set and honestly can’t remember a time when I wasn’t, whether because I noticed or because someone else pointed it out. My weight is almost always the first thing that someone notices about me, not that it’s a bad thing. It’s usually what comes next that’s bad. Like most children who grew up fat, I was most definitely bullied for it. The most vivid memory I can recall is a time when I was in high school and the marching band, because I was a huge nerd, were playing the game “Mafia.”
The premise of Mafia is that there are three designated players who are sorted into either the cop, the mobster, or the doctor. In each round, everyone closes their eyes and each player picks one other person in the group to “kill” (the mobster), someone to convict (the cop), and someone to save (the doctor). Each “morning” the narrator will tell the events of the previous “night.” In this particular round, the narrator goes on about how the killer went on to a boat with a harpoon, and I was killed in a tragic whaling accident earning my nickname “The White Whale” for the rest of the year. The nickname was a mix between my last time and the fact that I was fat -- high school students think they are so funny.
I struggled throughout my formative years with the fact that no matter what my weight would always be there, so around the time my freshman year of college came around, I decided that I didn’t care anymore. After years of direct comments and jokes from bullies and side-comments from friends and family, my weight literally meant nothing to me anymore. Everyone around me put so much emphasis on what I looked like that I could no longer make myself care. I couldn’t win so there was no point. I embraced who I was and what I looked like.
Being fat is something that I find to be a huge (ha) part of who I am. I use it as a descriptor, not something I use to demean myself. I am fat; I am very obviously not skinny or average and that’s one of things that has baffled me the most about people. When I say things like, “Well, my fat butt can’t fit into something like that,” my friends will immediately come to my “aid” and say things like, “No you aren’t! You’re beautiful!” I want this to be a news flash to skinny people: I can be both. I’ll give you a moment to take that in.
Me being fat doesn’t mean that I’m not beautiful. Fatphobia is a pervasive problem in American society and makes women feel like they aren’t worthy. I am worthy. I’m still cute as hell with my red lipstick and cat eyeliner. My outfits are still adorable and I am a goddess. I’m not being vain when I say things like that. It’s taken years of self-loathing and hatred to realize that I can love myself and be fat as if I was only worth something if I were a size six. Being fat shaped my life into being able to take what people say about my image and slam dunk it right into the dumpster. No one should ever feel like they are only what they look like or what a scale says, everyone is beautiful. Everyone has a heart that beats and a brain that gives them the skills to do something they love. You are always more than your weight, but that doesn’t mean you can’t embrace what you look like in whatever way that helps you love yourself more and more each day. Stay salty, fatphobs!
