Sorry for skipping a day—I’d started this post, hadn’t gotten a chance to finish it, and didn’t feel like starting and/or finishing anything else. So I hereby declare that it was always going to be a 28-confessions-in-30-odd-days thing.
Oh, was it more like two days? Like I said.
My confession is that right now I am a total fatty. Got all the real fat girl problems. And it is “girl,” not woman, because fat makes you immature and lame.
I’m won’t reveal the number of pounds I’m packing but mostly because I think you’d feel a distinct pang or two of pity, and I don’t want to give you pangs. It’s more pounds than I ever thought it’d be. I’m heavier than I ever imagined.
Well, no…I’ve got a pretty good imagination.
Real fat girl. Surely you’ve noticed. Several times in the last few months someone’s pointed out how fat someone else has gotten, how it’s aged or avenged or conquered someone else, and then there’s a half-second of awkwardness when everyone realizes I’m actually probably bigger than that poor soul.
I am the elephant in the room.
The double chin is constant—no angle or jutting can hide it--and if I’m not careful (Christ, I’m usually not careful), it squishes into a triple.
I can’t buy jeans in most departments or most stores. I have to order them online. Zappos sells “Levis” in all sizes and washes but someone can’t seem to accept that Fat Girls might want the same friendly, straight-forward, cotton denim others enjoy. All jeans in my size come in this sickly, stretchy, poly-fabric which seems to delight in soaking up sweat and then smelling weird. When I walk to work, my knees sweat now, and then my jean-knees smell. I mean, obviously, I should just stop ordering fake Levis from Zappos. Mostly I wear yoga pants now, whenever I can get away with it—and often when I can’t. Yoga pants are black and forgiving and not quite pajamas. You can tell they’re not quite pajamas because you can put an iPhone in the pocket and it won’t sag them.
Becoming a Fat Girl has been scary. No, worse: horrifying. I think about my fatness at least a hundred times a day. I think about it more than I think about anything else. Imagine if the thing you thought about most was horrifying, and humiliating. (Well, maybe it is, and I'm sorry. We should hang out more! Feel free to bring snacks.)
My ass still fits into theatre and plane seats. See, even my relief is humiliating. Sex is still fun and satisfying and my relief about that is humiliating, too. I usually like my hands a lot but even they've gotten that Fat Girl look now. You know what I mean.
Right now, I realize this confession is overwrought and probably not a lot of fun to read. I'm pushing on, though, because I don't want to waste all this honesty. Honesty is hard work!
Don’t write me kindly and discretely and offer advice or encouragement. Please. I know how to lose weight. I’ve done it before, with so many different methods. I know about paleo and weight-lifting and WW and small plates and zones and intuitive eating and counseling and diet buddies and planning and beans and daily practice and hydration and recording and reflection. I know how to do it. I just don’t know how to make (or let) myself do it right now.
Right now I’m a Fat Girl. A Fat Girl can handle anything--pretty well, actually--except getting un-fat.
I have this feeling: that this time, if I’m going to get to my healthy weight and stay there, I have to do it the hard way. By loving my body when it’s still horrifying. Stop loathing myself first and then heal, return, shrink. Make it stick that way. 32-going-on-33 feels like my last chance, too, but maybe not. Probably not. After all: the longest, most fucked-up, most mean, most important relationship I’ve ever had has been with my body. I'm almost ready to accept that we can’t ever break up.
My only suggestion is to throw away your scale. Seriously.
I understand being uncomfortable in your own skin, the impulse to say "fuck it" when presented with either no dessert or a pan of brownies, bumping into things when I walk because my body is bigger in reality than it is in my head (like cats who get fatter than their whiskers, and still think they can fit in that space behind the couch, but get stuck instead.)
I've been chubby my whole life. I was a ballerina, but always the fat one. When my joints revolted agains the stress and I ended up in full leg braces for a year, I doubled in size. Only twice in my adult life have I gotten down to a size 10/12, and that was 1. when I was bulimic in college, and 2. the summer I had Lyme Disease. I hated myself and my body for more than a decade, and it was miserable. (It didn't help that my significant other at the time did more to point out my flaws than to love them.)
The why/how of finally learning to love myself is long, and not exactly the kind of thing I want to put on the internet, but I will gladly share my experiences if you're interested. (And not at all in a "this is what I did, you can too!" but more of a "wow, I never knew that about you!" sharing kind of way.) All of this is to say that I get it. I understand your frustration. Know that you are an amazing person, and if you gained 50lb I would still feel that way, and if you lost 50lb I would still feel that way. I'm so proud to call you my friend.
Posted by: Meg | January 21, 2012 at 01:40 PM
Rory...it takes alot of courage to put in writing exactly how you feel about "you"! I would print this very honest post and keep it where you could see it and read it whenever you're tempted to over indulge...You know I lost weight a year or so ago..well, I'm not to thrilled that I've put 15lbs of it back on...always blaming it on something...holidays..etc....anyway...reading this comment from Meg helped me remember how really important our friends are...they really are...willing to listen, be there for us and best of all, love us for being "us"...when you do realize Rory, just how really good you are and how much you do for everyone else...how much you love...try giving yourself some of that love..certainly YOU deserve it too! Be good to Rory...treat her like you treat your best friends and others you love...take the time for Rory...and NEVER give up on yourself, dear granddaughter! So many count on you for so many things...just know we all love you very much!
(I'm still dancing around the kitchen..listening to my music...and thankfully ALL the sugar cookies are gone!)
A big ole hug to you!
Grandma Ann
Posted by: GRANDMA ANN | January 23, 2012 at 12:00 AM