Preface It’s really amazing and frightening at times that I am opening up completely on this blog for everyone to see. Some people are open books and can talk about the most sensitive subjects without a blink (not that there’s anything wrong with that). I’m not saying that I hide stuff, but I am no open book. I think this may have to do with being betrayed so many times. I don’t open up to anyone, and to those I do open up, it takes time to build that trust. And yet, I am now opening up to the whole world on this blog. I think I’m doing this for the greater good and for the greater me or maybe I’m just crazy. I am writing this preface because what I’m about to say—it’s been a long time coming—is hard for me to talk about out in the open. So, here it goes (I warn you--it's long)… I remember so vividly when I reached the centennial mark. Wow, losing 100 pounds—amazing. And yet, I woke up most mornings crying in the beginning. And these weren’t superficial tears, these were tears deep, down inside that have wanted to escape for a lifetime. It was like someone snapped their fingers and bam! I was different. I firmly believe in a thing called weight discrimination, because for all my life I’ve been a victim. And suddenly after losing 100 pounds, it stopped. People said I was paranoid. That no one was treating me differently and laughed it off like it was too absurd for a second thought. Yet, when I hit that magic mark, people did treat me differently and my beliefs—what I’ve felt for all my life, were validated.
During this time, my thoughts were dominated by figuring out how people could treat the same person so differently. A year ago, you would pass me in the aisle and try to get as far away as possible. Now, you come so close that we brush shirts, like I’m just an ordinary person. Why? I’m the same; I just look different on the outside. When I took the bus a year ago, you wouldn’t sit by me—you would rather stand in the aisle. Now, you choose to sit by me even though there are other open spots. A year ago, you would look at me and pass me like I’m nothing. Now, you walk past me, smile and say hello, like I’m human.
A year ago, I was treated subhuman. People defined me by my weight. And people had this deep-seated hatred for me or rather “my kind.” I was riding the bus one day a few years ago and this woman who usually always sits by this one guy, was upset when I took the spot next to him, so she couldn’t directly talk to him. She yelled across the bus, “You’ve got a black hole covering your sunshine, dear.” Laughter…
I had someone chew me out once because he saw I had a McDonald’s bag and asked me why I wanted to be fat. Like he was any better with his McDonald’s bag?
I’ve been spit on, gross stuff thrown in my hair, yelled at, “mooed” at, pushed around and all around made to feel like I wasn’t human. Like I didn’t deserve to live.
And that was one of my original motivations when I started this journey…Just to feel normal, like I was HUMAN.
And so, the conflict ensued in my mind…I enjoyed, for the first time in my life, being treated like I wasn’t a freak of nature. But, then I felt guilty because it just wasn’t right!
After six months, I’m still getting used to the difference. I would say most of the differences are due to people’s subconscious actions. It’s not like they’re trying to treat me differently. Our society teaches us that fat people are lazy, stupid and an overall menace to the world. So, I can’t place all the blame on the individual person. However, the overall snide remarks and actions, I place most the blame on the individual. There are always going to be hateful people in the world…but why is there so much hate for fat people? Is it because we’re any easy target? Is it because most people will ignore and/or even laugh at the havoc the bullies cause them? Maybe it was my nice personality that made people think I was an easy target?
There were times that I stood up against the discrimination. One night in my dorm room, I heard my neighbors and their boyfriends walk by. They stopped at our room and started talking about my roommate and I. They had nice things to say about my roommate, but when they got to me, they were laughing about how fat I was…I don’t remember the exact remarks, but it made me so upset that I got dressed (I was in bed about to sleep) and knocked on their door. I directed my brief statement to all four of them. I said something like this: “Hi. I just want to let you guys know that I heard what you said about me at my door. How dare you say that about me! You guys don’t even know me. You can talk all about how fat I am but my fat doesn’t define me. You have hurt my feelings and I have lost all respect for you! If I ever hear you guys talking about me in this discriminatory manner, I will complain to the floor advisor (we were in an honors floor).” I watched as their jaws dropped to the floor. When I was finished with my brief statement, I left their door open, proudly walking away with tears and a smile. I had done it. Finally, I stood up to my tormentors. Needless to say, my neighbors avoided me and really, I ignored them too. Toward the end of the school year, one of them (the other had moved out) came up to me in the bathroom and apologized and we were OK. This is just one story out of many. But most I didn’t stand up for myself.
So, now after many years, I am officially standing up for myself and anyone who has been in similar situations. I think the only way I will make a difference is doing what I’m doing now—writing this blog so people will learn about my experiences.
Whew…this was exhausting!
