So I’ve been thinking a lot about food, eating, fatness, and my parents’ relationship with what I consume. I’ve been fat pretty much my entire life and it has always been a touchy subject for a plethora of reasons.
Being fat, I quickly realized that everyone seemed to have more agency over my body than I did. My curves and rolls and skin and bones didn’t belong to me – everything about me belonged to those who thought they knew better. It didn’t matter that I grew up playing soccer and was a bomb ass defender and later on, a pretty decent goalie. It didn’t matter that despite having asthma, I played soccer with all my strength for 10 years growing up. It didn’t matter that I took to skiing in no time flat and when I was 13, won a skiing race with the fastest time for my age group. It didn’t matter that I ran cross country for my high school team for 3 years in a row and even though I didn’t do that well, I still ran as much and as fast as I could. It didn’t matter that I also rode horses for a few years, which is much more difficult than people realized.
It didn’t matter how active I was because I was always fat. There were times when I was constantly active, sometimes in more than one sport or activity at a time and on top of school and volunteering. People would always make comments about me being fat, claiming to be looking out for me and wanting me to be the best I could be.
I had a health professional tell me I needed to exercise and lose weight when I went to my university’s health center for anxiety. I had my dad just recently tell me that “it looked like I was losing weight and [he] loved me for it“, as if his fatherly love was completely dependent on if I was consistently losing weight. I’ve had ailments and illnesses blamed on my fatness, making going in for health care help nearly impossible without having anxiety.
I’ve realized that I hate eating around my mother and do everything I can to avoid eating around her because she comments on how much exercise I will need to do to work off my meal. I hate eating around people because I worry that they will make comments or judge me for the food or portions I eat. I try to order last when out with friends, to make sure that I’m eating a similar sized meal or something smaller. And if I’m at a party, I usually try to avoid eating if there are not others eating as well.
I’m tired of being the fat girl – well, truthfully I’m tired of being labelled the fat girl and I’m tired of the way in which I’m seen by others. I started working out recently – running, walking my dog, going to the gym. But I’ve done it not to lose weight but to go back to being active again. I love being active – swimming, running, skiing, hiking, almost all of it. And I went into this summer knowing that me getting back to being active has nothing to do with my weight and everything to do with loving myself.
I love my fat ass but I love it more when I’m fat and active.