Confession: I was the fat kid. Not in a baby chub way. Not in a bad body image way. I was the closing in on 200 lbs by 4th grade fat kid. It took me four long years to lose the weight that I had spent my life gaining. From first grade on, I was the fat kid. Even now, there are days when I forget that I am no longer an obese, acne speckled 8th grader. Here are some of my confessions.
#1: I adopted the “funny fat person” persona
I’ll be the first person to say that I think I’m pretty clever, but when I was growing up, that was just about all I had going for me socially. I built my personality around being the funny fat girl, because that was the only thing that I thought gave me any value. Nobody was going to pay attention to anything I said unless I did two things: told jokes, or lied. I did both, but jokes were the far less harmless of the two. When you’re fat, it becomes your social responsibility to be funny. Melissa McCarthy shows us how far we’ve gotten in that way of thinking. If you’re fat, your greatest asset is self-deprecating, goofy humor.
Now that I’m a healthy weight, I’m still pretty funny. I would’ve been funny no matter what size I wore growing up. The bad thing? I learned that the funniest thing I could possibly do was make fun of myself relentlessly. So even when my body changed, I still poked fun at myself to remain as hilarious as possible.
#2: I tried to be as smart as possible
Similar to the “funny fat person,” I worked very hard academically to prove my value. At a pretty young age, I figured that I wasn’t going to ever be a healthy weight, and therefore, wouldn’t be attractive to society. I wasn’t pretty, and I knew it. So I decided I had to be smart. Now, I wasn’t stupid by any means, but I took it as a personal failure when I wasn’t naturally amazing at any given subject.
Looking back at elementary school, I was only proud of one thing about myself, and that was the fact that I was an avid reader. I knew I was the best speller, I knew I was the fastest reader, and that was what made me special. My successes academically were the only things that made me stand apart from everyone else. I was never, ever, going to be the prettiest. But I could be the smartest.
Now, I’m definitely not the smartest. This is one thing I’ve been able to come to terms with. I don’t need to be the smartest. I have my talents, other people have theirs. But something about the Dean’s List turns me into the same fat kid who had to prove how special she was. For the most part, I’ve outgrown it, but every now and then I still feel like that same kid in fourth grade.
#3: I got shy
I was a shy kid naturally, but the older I got, the more self-conscious I became. I would get randomly loud to try to make a point, and think about it for weeks after. I was embarrassed of myself. Being tall and big wasn’t really helpful, because people expected me to be a lot more mature socially than I actually was. I felt like a big fat failure, but I was just shy, and that eventually turned to introversion.
Today, I’m still pretty shy, but thanks to college, I learned to fake it till I made it. The only remainder of the “fat person” shyness? I hate eating in front of people for the first time. When I was obese, I rarely ate at anyone’s house or with anyone. Because I ate so much, I was embarrassed. I knew everyone assumed I shoved a trashcan of food in my face daily, so I didn’t want them to actually see me eat. I got over this freshman year when I figured out I couldn’t get around eating, but I still have trouble eating with people for the first time.
#4: People made assumptions
I had perfect teeth for the longest time. Perfect. Teeth. Maybe two cavities, until I was around 13. I went to the dentist for my regular check-up and cleaning, and they found four cavities. The dental hygienist proceeded to loudly tell my mom while in the waiting room filled with people that I needed to have a better diet, and I couldn’t drink so much pop or eat as much candy as I was eating. I didn’t drink pop. But I was a fat kid, so obviously my diet was made up of nothing but sugar and fried food. The truth? The typical “bad” foods weren’t that common in my household growing up. It was simply a matter of my eating big portions or sneaking food. Regular, non-soda or candy foods. Shocking. As it turns out, I had weak enamel, nothing to do with my diet. Thanks to my new dentist for seeing past my fat.
People assumed throughout my life that I was a fat, unhealthy, fry eating fatty. That wasn’t the case. I wasn’t as healthy as I could’ve been, but it was a far cry from neglectful parents feeding me frozen food or me eating thirty reeses in a single sitting.
#5: Losing weight takes time
After a wonderful peer decided to tell me how “fat” my butt was—and the rest of me—I had a nice long cry before deciding it was time to take charge of my weight. I signed up for Weight Watchers, and it worked. I cut back my portions, and after the first 50 pounds, I started working out. By my senior year, I was working out twice a day, and running up to six miles. It took me four years to get to that point, and it’s still a battle.
Losing weight is not a year long thing that ends once you hit that goal weight. I was pretty good at exercising daily until my sophomore year of college, and I haven’t worked out regularly since then. I need to work out regularly, but not for weight loss. I work out for my mental health, and to build strength. Anyone losing weight should keep in mind that exercise is not just so you can see a number on the scale, it’s for your overall health. The reason I started working out and love working out has nothing to do with my weight.
I’ve gained weight back, that’s just how it goes. You don’t stay at a magical weight for your entire life. In fact, I’ve fluctuated between about 15 pounds. It all has to do with your body changing, your diet changing, your stagnancy, and even water. I will always be working to keep my weight healthy, and working to keep my body healthy. That’s a lifetime, not a day. The best thing about being obese at a young age? Learning how to treat my body, motivate myself, and eat healthily at a young age independently. I worked and still work extremely hard to maintain a healthy body, and I’m proud of that.
#6: It’s fun showing people old pictures
--or showing up around old classmates. One of my least favorite high school memories was a guy asking me out as a joke, because, hahaha, I was fat and who would actually ask me out? It’s a real hoot, everyone.
I’m still an introvert. I’m still funny. I’m the same person—besides my health and drive—that I was when I was fat. But the sad truth? None of that mattered. Nobody cared that I existed, because I wasn’t attractive. This isn’t a pity party, this is just what I experienced. If I hadn’t lost the weight, I’d still be me. I’d still have the same style. I’d still have the same personality, but for a lot of people, I wouldn’t be the same person. People are image driven, and in a lot of ways, people decide your value on your weight.
So, I like to pull up old pictures. Why? Because every time someone compliments me on my looks—not saying this is common or I expect it—I remember that fat kid that cried because she never thought anyone would like her. Or the kid throwing water on the kid that asked her out in front of a group of people as a joke. Or the kid that didn’t get to play with two girls because her wrists were too fat, and they had thin wrists. Sure, I love to hear people say “you’ve changed!” because I’ve worked really, really, hard to get where I am. But I also want to hear what people say when they see fat me. Do they even see the me from now in that girl? Usually, no. So I might be thin now, I might be healthy, but inside, a part of me is still the fat kid.
