Your Fat Shaming Only Stokes My Fire

When you walk through life in a body that society deems untenable, constant moments of imposed shame become commonplace. It’s not that you get used to them exactly; more that when they happen there is a complete lack of surprise.

Shame is a pervasive emotion; it’s primal and raw, and often times devastating. Much like human beings, fat shaming comes in countless shapes and sizes. At its core, it’s an act of bullying, singling out, making fun, joking about, or discriminating against someone because they are fat. Fat shaming is dangerous. It promotes disordered eating and can lead to stress and depression. It’s insidious and it eats away at us from the inside out.

When I sat down to write about fat shaming and how it feels, I looked up definitions and articles and perused the net. I can explain what fat shaming is, but I don’t think that’s the point I want to make. Unsettled, I couldn’t seem to narrow in on what I really wanted to say about it. The mere idea of being shamed for the shape of my body brings up such vitriol in me that my fingers freeze on the keyboard.

I could tell you about all of the times I’ve been shamed for the size and shape of my body.

At the dentist, when the hygienist inexplicably mentions that eating a low carb diet can help with something or other, then follows it up with “oh, but you’re probably already doing that,” I can only assume she means because I must be diabetic? Or trying to lose weight? I don’t ask for clarification, but later I kind of wished I had.

On the cross-state journey to visit my sister, when I have to ask three separate times on three separate planes for a seat belt extender despite the fact that cars and trucks and buses come with belts long enough for bigger bodies.

At any newsstand when I see magazine after magazine with words like success and new life and impressive tacked onto the afters, but where bodies like mine are only in the failure of before.

At the theater to finally see Hamilton, something I’ve been dreaming of for years, when I sit down and feel how the armrests squeeze my hips, when I know I’ll be conscious of my seat for the entire show.

At McDonald's, when we stop for a family lunch after running around at the park, and I don’t fit in the booth my kids pick out in the play area. This seems especially ironic to me when I consider where we are.

At the office, when New Year’s rolls around again and I get to listen to my co-workers talk daily about diets, salads, and gym routines and how much better they’ll be if they lose weight.

I could try to remember other times, dredging up old memories of feeling singled out, discriminated against, or looked down on because my body takes up more space. I could try to explain how it feels to have people put on a mask of concern when they try to convince you that the reason they are shaming you is for your own good, your own health, rather than because they find your existence offensive.

Maybe I could tell you again about all of the times I’ve heard that I’m not fat, sometimes followed by ‘you’re beautiful,’ as if being fat and being beautiful are mutually exclusive and you can’t possibly be one without the other.

Then, there’s the mother of all fat shames, ironically born of someone’s own shame at perceived rejection. This particular type of venom is spat in the moments when someone tries to convince himself that he can’t be rejected by you because you are a fat, ugly beast and he never wanted you to begin with.

why didn’t you tell me AFF is adult fat finder? Cannot believe the women and their photos… what world do you live in?

Thanks for the message, bro. If you really want to know what world I live in…

I live in a world where grown men who feel rejected deal with it by lashing out and trying to hurt people they don’t even know to make themselves feel less insecure. Since the first message he sent me said “Hi” and had a more friendly tone, I can only assume that he was angry that 8 hours later, I hadn’t responded. So he decided that he wasn’t actually interested anyway, because I’m too fat for him?

*record scratch* In what world does that make any kind of sense? This isn’t elementary school, there are no backsies, and your attempt to convince me that you weren’t interested in the first place by insulting me is poorly executed at best. I’m not even going to get into the thinking behind the lack of consideration for the idea that I just hadn’t had time to check my messages yet today.

I live in a world where people think it’s okay to send hateful, negative messages asking me how I could possibly dare to want to date, or experience physical intimacy, or really live in general, given my weight. In this world, I can be objectified, I can be someone’s BBW fetish, but if I don’t respond to it positively I become repulsive, and the first thing they jump to is ALWAYS the size and shape of my body.

I live in a world where people see me as LESS THAN because I am more than. Where it’s so easy for people to pull out the insult fat, they barely even have to try. Where my weight means that I should be alone, that I don’t deserve to have men like me, that I don’t deserve to feel sexy, that I don’t deserve intimacy or pleasure. That I don’t even deserve to be treated with common courtesy.

In this world, it seems like people don’t consider this:

I already KNOW I am fat.

Did this guy think that it would be some big surprise to me that 1) I am fat or 2) some men are not attracted to me? Is he crazy? There’s a reason I am careful to include a full body shot on any dating profile I make. The idea of it is that people like this clever dude, who only prefer one type of woman, will not contact me.

Do you know what else I know? There are plenty of men who find me attractive just the way I am. Do I want to lose weight? I used to answer, “of course.” How could I not, given the culture that I live in and the fact that I’m surrounded by the media and people like this guy every day telling me how disgusting and worthless I am?

But now? I don’t think I do. Of course, there is a lizard brain urge to fit in, to be able to shop at normal stores, to be able to buy cheap yoga pants and snarky t-shirts and $10 bathing suits. It’s human to want to fit in, to want to be desired. I think it’s not me who needs to change, though; I think the world needs to get with the times and recognize that people come in all shapes and sizes.

Sometimes, it seems like I’m being asked to stop existing and I feel like I’m screaming into a void. How many times do I have to recount being told I’m not good enough for people to understand it? Why is the idea that I deserve to be treated just as well as anyone else regardless of my BMI or pants size something that takes this much convincing?

So, what world do I live in? I live in a world of bullies, but I’m not worried because I left that shit behind in grade school.

I am lucky that my mind is in a place where I get to make a choice every day. That I have developed the strength over time to use your intended shame as tinder to stoke the fire in my belly. Some days I don’t feel strong, but most days the muscle memory of the shaming I’ve experienced is just more fuel. I am righteous, and I am worth being treated with respect.

This is how I look. I am done being ashamed.