Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls (4 page)

So essentially, we have the majority of our fourth and fifth graders terrified of a body type that we've told them is wrong, and they're more afraid of becoming this shape than of most anything else. They're also dieting to avoid a vilified body before their body has even had a chance to develop. That doesn't go away, as the
vast
majority of grown-ass
women don't like their bodies and actively try to change them by dieting. But most of this emotional pain and distress is for naught, because only 5 percent of women have a body type that could ever give them the
chance
to look like the model we're all striving to emulate. Which (by the power of very simple math) means we can safely assume that 95 percent of women's bodies will naturally refuse to become that which we see portrayed by the media as desirable, no matter what they do. Which leaves almost all ladies stuck in a cycle of trying and failing and trying and failing to become something they physically
can't
.

Now if that above paragraph isn't fucked up, I don't know what is. And I just might have more fucked-up-ness for you. What do we see happen to people's lives because of those five statistics I shared above?

We develop low self-esteem.
People have really terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days . . . just because of their perception of their bodies.

As a result, we suffer employment losses.
Those who have low self-esteem make considerably less money than their confident counterparts. They also take fewer risks, and I would imagine with that magnitude of insecurity they are far less successful in reaching their goals.

We put our lives on hold.
How many of us have waited to do something until we've lost weight?
I'll buy jeans AFTER I lose ten pounds. I'll do family photos AFTER I . . . I'll start dating AFTER I . . .
We painfully stunt our lives because we have decided that our bodies are simply not good enough to work with now. The progress that's lost because of this? Tragic.

We establish poor relationship skills.
When we dislike our bodies, we tend to feel unlovable and undeserving. Feeling this way can affect our relationships in a lot of ways, from not approaching those we're interested in to staying in abusive relationships much longer than we should.

We can create or trigger mental illness.
Extremely low self-esteem and self-hatred can often trigger larger mental issues, and
perhaps even cause a mental disorder to develop that is significant enough to smother happiness and growth. Although many mental disorders (including but not limited to bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, anxiety, and yes, depression) are the result of biological imbalances, we're capable of escalating such imbalances and impeding our emotional and mental growth. Eating disorders included.

We commit suicide.
And sadly, there is case after case of this: people who would rather die than live in the body the world has told them is inferior.

All this is certainly cataclysmic, but let's take a moment to think about the flip side of each of these issues . . . if people LOVED their bodies, they might have
higher self-esteem.
They could grab life by the horns and
go after their goals right now.
They could feel lovable and have healthy intimate relationships. They might feel more confident at work and take more career leaps. They might be able to temper or even eliminate a self-triggered mental disorder (even though disorders won't ever go away entirely, those triggered by self-loathing would surely be fewer!), and ideally, they would celebrate life instead of ending it, because they would truly believe they are good enough just the way they are now.

Now, that's all great, but imagine if not only one person, but
everyone
started doing these things. Living, loving, taking risks, investing in themselves and others . . . billions of people doing this together would most certainly shift the face of the world we live in. This is what Sonya Renee Taylor was talking about in her comment. Body love really can contribute to the elimination of hate, competition, inequality, oppression, invisibility . . . creating opportunity and space for all.

Believe it.

So, my goal in life as an advocate is not to necessarily make you feel “pretty” (though if you need permission to go ahead and feel pretty, it's yours!) but rather to inform, educate, and empower so you can make decisions about your body that are comfortable and right for you specifically. THIS IS WHAT BODY LOVE IS. When people
feel in complete control of their bodies, minds, and worth, body love has truly come to stay. When we find total body autonomy for every individual, those magical things mentioned above really can happen. And that magic will ripple out until it affects everyone in a positive sense. It's that big of a deal. I'll say it again: Body love has the capacity to change the world.

Hopefully this book can be a game changer for you, but it is by no means the be-all and end-all of body image exploration; far from it. It's not even the ultimate book of empowering things for fat chicks. The body activism world is multifaceted, and there is a lot of information out there that I suggest you find and ponder. This particular book is a collection of
my
realizations, epiphanies, and
aha!
moments interspersed with facts and thoughts that I wish I'd known and had earlier. I want to share these things with you because after embracing body love I have found considerably more fulfillment, purpose, love, and sense of worthiness.

Listen up, because this is important: You deserve to have these things, too. Your size is irrelevant to your ability to find fulfillment, purpose, love, a sense of worthiness, and the ovaries to not give a fuck.

I deserve it and you deserve it . . . so read on, my friend. Read on.

start now, GODDAMNIT: waiting doesn't work
start now, GODDAMNIT: waiting doesn't work

[ CHAPTER TWO ]
[ CHAPTER TWO ]

S
orry I yelled.

It's just REALLY that important.

One of the traps we fall into as humans (flawed creatures that we are) is the one I mentioned in the last chapter, the one where we decide we're going to (fill in the blank with important life activity)
AFTER
we lose
x
number of pounds. Or maybe instead of losing pounds, it's building muscle. Or burning fat.
Whatever it is,
the issue is that we limit our lives because we refuse to do something good, great, or needed
until
we change our bodies.

There are a lot of fucked-up things about this situation, y'all.

I did a phone interview for a confidence website written by teens, and after a chat about the basics of body love, the young interviewer shared her personal story with me. One of the things that resonated with me
real hard
(and will for many others, I'm sure) was when she said, “I kept telling myself I would do this and that after I lose weight,
and I just got so
tired . . . so tired
of making myself promises that I knew I could never keep.”

OMG I KNOW THAT EXHAUSTION. The skyrocketing hope that lasts for sixty seconds because
this time
you're gonna become a better version of you and THEN
everything will be okay.
And then comes the exhaustion after trying so hard yet still feeling inadequate, which only reminds you how much you truly hate yourself.

It's a really sad thing.

Real talk: Your life is not going to become more amazing, happier, or more successful after you lose those 10 pounds. Or 20 pounds. Or 50 pounds.

The saddest part is we do this to ourselves over and over again. Things I hear often: I'll take those family photos once I lose 10 pounds: I'll look better then. I'll start dating again once I lose 10 pounds: More people will reply to my profile. I'll join the gym, but only after I lose 10 pounds on my own first: I don't want to be embarrassed. I'll buy this dress, but only after I lose 10 pounds: I can't bring myself to buy something
that
big.

Real talk: Your life is not going to become happier, more amazing, or more successful after you lose those 10 pounds. Or 20 pounds. Or 50 pounds. Because the pounds aren't
really
the issue. Your state of mind is.

Here. Allow me to illustrate with a super-duper personal story. Because that's what I do best.

While searching for some old college essays a little bit ago, I stumbled upon a forgotten online photo album that held forty-eight pages of memories from my last ten years. I was thrilled to find this photographic treasure chest and eagerly clicked through, reliving every moment I had captured. It's so strange, the things old photos can evoke. I could somehow remember the smell of my dorm room, the dust in the abandoned apartments upstairs, that particular monsoon season, those nights smoking cloves in a hoodie, that visit to a park in Baltimore, those tears shed on top of a parking garage, that drive to nowhere, those feelings of
hopelessness, that moment of ecstatic joy, that trip to the museum for the Renoir exhibit, that afternoon spent listening to Jenny Watson and drinking High Life in the backyard, that week spent on the circus train, and that cup of espresso in Venice. The evolution of me becoming who I am today was laid out in front of me: my many faces and multiple facets. It all came back to me with such force, it nearly knocked the breath out of me. It was unexpectedly powerful.

Then
I noticed how beautiful I was in all these old pictures—and I immediately connected this with how much thinner I used to be. I wasn't skinny, but I wasn't fat, and this shocked my nervous system in a way I can't explain. I became hyperaware of how uncomfortable I felt sitting in my current body, and how I didn't see that body reflected in any of the photos on my screen. I was instantly attacked by those cruel teachings of society that I've internalized my entire life. I wasn't necessarily fat back then—maybe just bigger than some. So why did I remember always feeling like I was twice the size that I was? How was my body dysmorphia (exaggerated or imagined perception of one's physical flaws) so extreme that I felt like I was an embarrassment to those around me? Why did I hate myself so much when I looked that great? How could I not see how
beautiful I was back then
? Maybe I'm even more of a failure now than I was then, and maybe I should lose weight to become like Old Me again. Maybe I would meet more people if I looked like Old Me. Maybe I would succeed more if I looked like Old Me. Maybe I would be happier if I looked like Old Me. Maybe Old Me was better.

And then I caught myself.

I realized that Old Me hated everything about herself. I can see the beauty so clearly now, but she had no idea. She loathed every part of her body and wished she could trade it in for anything else. Anything. Her self-esteem was nonexistent, though she pretended this wasn't the case. Old Me wanted to die instead of live in that body, and I wish I could have hugged her and told her how exquisite she was.

And then I started to sob.

I sobbed for the girl who was so beautiful on both the inside and the outside but couldn't see it. I sobbed for the girl who spent years missing out on magical parts of life because her perspective was poisoned. I sobbed for the girl who repeatedly punished herself for not being good enough. And I sobbed for every other girl out there who believes the same lies that she did. I sobbed because these lies destroy lives.

And then my answer came. Retrieving the body of Old Me wouldn't change a thing. I'm fatter than I have ever been yet somehow happier than I have ever been. I have a career and a mission in life. I have more fulfilling relationships. I am solid in my beliefs. I have more positive attention. I have people who love me, a lover who wants me, and goals that I'm achieving.

I am the happiest I have ever been, and this simply proves that
happiness is not a size
. Happiness is a state of being. Happiness is about finding what you love about yourself and sharing it. Happiness is about taking what you hate about yourself and learning to love it. Happiness is an internal sanctuary where you are enough just as you are, right now.

A webcomic site called Toothpaste for Dinner has one comic that shows a fat man who says, “I hate myself.” The next frame shows him as a skinny man saying, “Nope, that wasn't it.”
¹
Every time I read it I smile at that profound truth. All too often we decide that we'll love ourselves “just the way we are” . . . but only after we change. The reality is our dissatisfaction with our bodies isn't a physical issue; it's a mental barrier, and until we address that root problem we will find ourselves looking in the mirror with a frown on our face no matter our size. Complete and total body acceptance is the key to changing our perspective on life, and it starts on the inside.

We can't treat our minds and bodies well until we learn to love them. Nothing good comes out of finding the flaws and harboring resentment towards ourselves. I was conventionally stunning and hated everything about my body, hurting it repeatedly on purpose. I am unconventionally beautiful now, and I find myself with more good days than bad. I'm loving myself. Just the way I am. Right now. And I am happy.

And isn't that what it's all about?

Well, it is for me.

Transformative moment number 587 (out of a kajillion) on my body love journey happened the day I stopped looking for a model in the mirror. I never realized that up until that point, I was expecting to see “pretty” in my reflection. This delusional expectation only served to reinforce everything that I thought I wasn't. Instead of unique beauty, what I focused on was my double chin, thunder thighs, pronounced belly, imperfect arms . . . all of them shockingly disappointing as I looked for a thinner, photoshopped version of myself. And guess what? I never saw her.

I wish I could tell you the magic moment when my thinking changed, but all I know is eventually I allowed myself to see my body for what it truly was . . . and that was when I started to develop an appreciation for what I have. I now look for
myself
in the mirror, and I'm never disappointed. I see my body in all its atypical glory, and most days it just feels oh so right! Nothing was altered except my expectation; to everyone else I looked exactly the same. But to me, that shift changed everything. Internal power, y'all. We gotz it.

I'm painfully aware of the fact that I have apologized for my body for over two decades. Verbally—excusing myself for taking up so much space. Making jokes about what I was eating. Turning down compliments because I didn't feel deserving. And physically—wearing black, long-sleeved shirts in the Arizona summer. Shying away from anything loud, flashy, or sparkly. Basically doing anything I could to minimize the presence of my body. What a way to live, huh? And sadly, I think we can all relate on some level. I look back on those years of my life now and shake my head. It's as if I thought I was keeping the fact that I was fat a secret by attempting to disguise it. As if those who saw me in black would then see me in bright colors and gasp, “HOLY SHIT! UNTIL NOW, I HAD NO IDEA SHE WAS FAT!” Illogical. Our bodies cannot truly be hidden, no matter how many black outfits we wear. No matter how many pairs of Spanx we own. No matter how much we suck it in. Doesn't it seem like a better use of our time to just accept the fact that our bodies are our bodies and live our lives like there is no tomorrow? I'm pretty sure the answer is yes.