Chew On This!

Nobody Knows How Fat I Am

I'll tell you something I've never told anybody else: I weigh about 184 pounds right now. I topped out in December at about 223. I've lost about 39 pounds since then. Quite an achievement, wouldn't you say? Something to be proud of, right?

So why am I still embarrassed by my weight? Why, instead of reveling in my accomplishments, do I cringe every time I step on a scale? Because my whole life, my weight and shame have been irrefutably linked. You might as well call my fat "Donny" and my shame "Marie."

From my first driver's license to my most recent one, I've lied about my weight. I can't remember a time when this was not true. My best friends don't know what I weigh. If the subject ever came up, I'd toss off lighthearted answers like "Too much." or "Let's order a pizza!" I've gone to great lengths to avoid those Guess Your Age and Weight Booths at fairs and carnivals. I mean, what's worse? Having them guess right or having them guess wrong?

Imagine:

Clyde The Carnival Guy: Step right up! I'll guess your weight or you'll win a prize! You there!

Me: Who, me?

Clyde: Let's see. . . . I'll guess you weigh 195 pounds.

Me: Uhm, no.

Clyde: Really? Step on the scale here so everyone can see if I'm right or if you are a big fat liar!

Me: Uhmm. . . No!

Clyde: Come on, ya Cow, get on the scale!

And that's just one of my fat nightmares. I'm sure you have your own. Because odds are whether you are fat, feel fat or just fear fat, as a woman, you probably have issues.

Fearing Fat
I have a friend who weighs maybe 106 pounds when wet and yet occasionally I hear her say, "I'm getting so fat." She's a little bitty person who wears a size one but she's totally serious. She's not the only one, though. Every woman I know feels insecure about her weight - no matter what she weighs. The fear of fat is running rampant through our society and nowhere is it more evident than in our teenage girls.

On Feb 14th, Valentine's Day, a 13 year old girl hung herself in her room. Here's what the Associated Press had to say:

"A 13-year-old girl hanged herself after she was ordered to return to a school where other students were taunting her. April Michelle Himes was ordered to return or appear before a truancy board and possibly end up in jail, her stepfather, Steven Clinton said."
Associated Press, (2/17/00)

The AP article doesn't say what the kids were taunting April with - only that she was taunted.

According to her mother, who was interviewed for a local news segment, April was most bothered by the cry of "Fat". Never mind that the child was not fat. The stigma of being called fat traumatized April enough that she feared going to school. She feared going to school enough that when she was told she had to return, she took matters into her own hands and killed herself. I'm not saying April hung herself because her friends called her fat - that would be oversimplifying to the point of grievous inaccuracy. But there can be no denying that April was scarred.

It's possible April was living her own personal fat nightmare. When you are thirteen years old, it's difficult to have the wisdom and perspective to know that the nightmare isn't real. When you are thirteen, it seems impossible that the nightmare will ever even come to an end.

The Fat Nightmare
As a child, I endured never-ending taunts from my brother that primarily focused on "Fatty, fatty, two-by-four. Can't get through the kitchen door." It didn't bother me too much. . . well it did - it made me angry and resentful towards him. I didn't go running to my room to have a good cry and wonder why I was fat. Instead, I would scream brilliant rejoinders like, "Well, you're stupid and you stink like feet!"

The thing is, my mother never told him to stop saying that. As a matter of fact, no one ever said, "Don't call your sister fat - she's not fat. She a perfectly healthy girl." The implicit message that I got from this was "You are fat." And so I grew up to believe that I was fat and disgusting (and that my brother was a moron).

Maybe if I'd heard Mom or Dad or anyone say - even occasionally - "Your sister is not fat," I would have had a different attitude about my body. Maybe. Maybe not.

But it goes without saying that we should try and protect our children and ourselves from these kinds of negative messages. It doesn't take much. Tell your children that they are beautiful. Tell your friends they are beautiful. Tell yourself that you are beautiful. Wake up from your fat nightmare. Don't be afraid - beauty has nothing to do with numbers on a scale or a dress size. You know that, you just may not believe it yet. As for me, there are days I'm proud of my progress, days that I feel beautiful without doubt.

By Diz Andover.
I'd love to hear from you. E-mail me at diz_andover@altavista.com