Hindsight IV

Hindsight Part IV
June 18, 2011

I handled it like a “pro”, not like the “rookie” I was… and I was a “rookie” when it involved being “normal-sized”. I was so used to being fat that I didn’t pay much attention to the way people reacted to my size. I had never noticed the differences in the way we treat people, according to their size. I knew that there were coping skills that being fat made you adapt, like looking around any room you entered, and assessing the seating in that room to make certain there was at least one chair you could sit in without breaking up the furniture. What I paid little attention to was the way people looked at you while you were making the assessment. As I got thinner, I still did that for a while, but later, as I didn’t have that consideration, I began to watch the way people reacted when people who were fat entered the room. (I could be “politically correct” and assign the terms “overweight” or “obese” or even “morbidly obese” to avoid using the word “fat”, but I’m not trying to be politically correct. I’m just being honest.)
The looks of the people in the room told their real feelings more than the crude comments of people with no manners, who said things aloud about your obvious lack of self-control that allowed you to let yourself get so fat. If the fat person was not so busy trying not to commit a seating faux pas, he/she would notice those looks, too. I truly believe those looks, and the covert complaints they thinly veil, are part of the reason why some airlines have created the necessity for passengers over a certain weight to purchase more than one ticket for seating. I imagine that some of those people, whose noses turn up and lips purse if you look in the direction of the seat next to them, went to the airlines and complained about the fat people who encroached upon their seats when forced to share the space. The “Don’t even THINK of sitting that fat next to me” look is something that most fat people miss. Now, I will even beckon to people, when I see them making their assessment, if there is an available seat next to me. I feel their pain, even if they don’t know that pain exists.
Once the weight started to melt away, the attitudes of people around me began to change. Men began to notice the changes and comment on the way I looked, even more than they did before. Their comments were mostly in appreciation of the changes, and the amount of work it took to make them. I lieu of the cosmetic surgery some people had opted to have to get rid of loose skin; I opted to exercise to tighten up the skin. That took major work. My skin had stretched to accommodate all the poundage, and, because the weight loss was so rapid, my body didn’t have the time to readjust. (Still working on the lower half of my body, but heredity is a very difficult thing to overcome.) I refused to have plastic surgery as a “quick fix”. If I wanted it, I would work for it. I’m still working! Men seemed to understand my struggle and they were quick to encourage me to keep up the good work. Sure, there were more men “hitting on me” than ever before in my life; that was something that was flattering, but I didn’t take it seriously.
The attitudes of women were far less complimentary, and far more astounding than I had ever dreamed they would be. The same women who had told me, for years, that I’d be prettier if I lost the weight, (even some of my friends), began to try to discourage my progress. I wondered at that for a while, and then realized that they viewed me as a threat. I had totally ignored the competitive nature of the female dynamic, and it was only when their attitudes changed that I realized that I had placed myself in competition with those same women, and they didn’t like it. I didn’t have that problem with women who were secure with themselves and their relationships, but I had no idea that so many women were insecure. It was easy for them not to think of my presence as threatening as long as I was fat. The attention they got, especially from their husbands and boyfriends, and even from men on the street and in the places they frequented, was not detracted from as long as I was fat. In their estimation, nobody would look at “the fat girl”, so they were safe. I could have disputed this in many cases, but instead I chose to withdraw from the competition. If I had any inkling that anyone was paying too much attention to me, I quickly discouraged that attention. I didn’t want to be on any woman’s “hit list”. I still don’t. Call me a coward, but if I ever feel as if I have to compete, I’m out! It’s not that I don’t think I’d be good competition, or that I won’t “win”, it’s that I don’t even want to try.
I lost the weight, and I also lost the friendship of some people, men and women, who I really thought were my friends. I say that my attitude, my love for people, my inside spirit did not change, but I think, perhaps, in some things, I did change. One female friend of mine told me that I wasn’t “jolly” like I used to be, but the reality was that I didn’t humor her insecurity anymore. When she complained about how much weight she was gaining and how bad she felt about her weight gain, I told her to stop complaining and come with me to the YMCA, where we could exercise the weight off together. When she started making excuses for not going, she got angry with me because I went anyway. I lost some of my “gal pals” who wanted me to eat and some of my “guy pals” who didn’t want to deal with the insecurities of their wives. It took me a while to figure out what was in my best interest. I had almost as many people trying to discourage me as I had people encouraging me, but I was determined to be successful. I kept some old friends, and I made some new friends. I developed a style all my own (like always), and I kept working on the inside, working to keep my head on straight.
In all the losing that I did, I managed to gain some things, too. One thing that I gained was a healthy attitude toward eating, which I managed to pass on to my children. I didn’t want them to have the same struggles with weight that I had. Heredity would make it necessary for all of us to be cautious of our eating habits. We, my kids and I, learned about exercise and about food addiction, and we use that knowledge to govern our daily lives. There are still challenges, but I meet them head-on, knowing that my food addiction (I’ve never met a food I didn’t like) is something I can manage; but addictions are strange things… they never seem to go away…