There seems to be some kind of club, wherein you’ve ever had a weight problem and lost weight, you are then allowed to be a total jackass to fat people. The same club also allows people who have never been fat, but also like to be jackasses to people who are.
Let’s talk about that for a sec, that word, fat. Fat. It’s like the most heart-wrenching thing someone can call you, when your whole life has been a struggle with weight. Call me an asshole? No big deal, water off of a duck’s back. I like my heart, I like my soul, I am a damned good friend. I will love you far after you’ve stopped loving yourself. I will carry you, on my back until you can walk. So, I know I’m not an asshole.
But, fat? Yeah, that one hits close to home.
So, yeah. I’m fat. This has caused me more heartache and more protection and more drama over the years than any of the other history I’ve shared here. It has given me a wall, which as made me all but invisible, and at times a size that has made me anything but invisible. Some truly hideous names and accusations have been leveled at me, because of my pant size. I’m gross, I’m lazy, I’m stupid, I’m worthless.
I’ve been passed over, looked over, talked over. Ignored, berated, made fun of. What’s that thing we are all talking about, lately? Bullying? Yeah, ain’t just for kids, anymore. It has made me cry, left me breathless more times than I can count. But you know? The more I hear, the deeper this little seed grows into something blooming, something grand.
I am pissed.
I own my fat. No one made me fat, but me. I have my reasons, nothing to do with really liking cake or never unassing the couch. Although I do like cake and my couch is comfortable. I padded on my pounds to protect me from a world that was too harsh for me, at too young an age. It was done on purpose, by design. It was all me.
But guess what?
I am fat, but I am not gross. I am fat, but I am beautiful.
I am fat, but I am not stupid. I am fat, but I can write the shit out of anything you put in front of me. I can make you feel at home and I can power through 8 massages a day.
I am fat, but I am fun.
I do not slog around, miserable and bumbling. I do not ride the motorized carts and ask for wheelchairs. I take the stairs. I drink my tea with nothing in it. I don’t keep a spare turkey leg in my purse. I could though, my purse is big enough, but oddly no one calls my purse fat.
I am fat, but I am sexy
I can move. I do move. Bite me if you don’t think I can charm the pants clean off of you. Because, I’m fat, but I can.
I am fat, but I am loved.
I am fat, but I don’t deserve your derision. I am fat, but I don’t deserve your hushed whispers, your rude stares or your judgment. I am fat but I deserve respect. Not because I am fat, but because I am human.
So, next time you feel compelled to comment on the status of my ass, be prepared for me to be my beautiful, funny, talented, sexy nurturing self. Because, I’m fat but I’m not an asshole. That’s you.