“Fat girls need loving too. . . Ya they do but they don’t deserve it.” That was a Facebook status from someone I know not too long ago. I don’t know where the sentiment came from or the background information, but I think its a pretty common idea. What I do have to say about it though is, duh, like most of us haven’t been already informed of how unworthy we are for our whole lives.
When I was very little, before six or so, in pictures I seem to be of an average weight. I was beautiful. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be and I was anything I wanted to be. I was an opera singer, I was a dancer, I was a princess, and I loved it. Once I started school, I found out I was fat. Not by a Doctor mind you, but by classmates. I was also the tallest in my class, so I was big and fat.
That couldn’t be. I was who I wanted to be, I knew I was beautiful. They must be wrong. It became harder for us to find clothes for me in the regular department. Why couldn’t I wear the pretty clothes? Why is everything I have to wear so ugly? Because I was fat. I wasn’t good enough to wear pretty clothes.
I fought it. Then a relative that was too touchy/kissy when I was a very little girl decided to touch and point out all my body parts that were too fat and tell me that no one would ever love me if I was fat. I received my first message that touching the fat was fine, but it was the inside of me that was somehow damaged by the fat that made me unlovable.
It is supposed to be a wonderful time to go stay with your Grandparents. My Grandma and Step-Grandpa lived several hours away in another state. Sometimes I would go by myself and sometimes I would go with a cousin. I was always weighed daily after breakfast. Breakfast consisted of pancakes, sausage, cereal, and milk. If I was by myself, it was better. If my cousin was there (I don’t know if she ever knew), I was always judged by her weight. FYI, this cousin was very thin and went on to be on every homecoming court in her school career. I would never be enough, good enough, lovely enough, pretty enough, smart enough and all because I was tainted. I didn’t need a mark on my forehead, I was a walking billboard for my damaged humanity.
This went on for years. The weighing and touching stopped as I got older, but I was still reminded that I would never be anything and no one would ever want me. It seemed that everywhere I turned this idea was reinforced. My nickname in grade school was “Diesel”. I suppose it was because I was supposed to be as big as a semi-tractor. High school was just hell. It may be for most people, but add all of the stresses of those years, a somewhat turbulent home and add being a walking poster child for fat.
I traveled through my young adult years in a blur. I had good friends, I still do, but there is always a part of me even still that just knows that one day they will see through the layers of fat and find the poisoned insides or they will begin to tell me what I have always been told by people that were supposed to love me.
I went through strings of men that only wanted the outside of me. That just reinforced the lessons of my youth. My soul ached for someone that would want the inside of me, that would somehow see there is beauty in me that just can’t be seen on the outside. It never seemed like it would happen, so I just kept letting myself be damaged again and again. I’m not happy about it, but the first person that told me I was beautiful was a married man. I didn’t know that at the time. Not only was I beautiful, he was interested in my mind. It could happen! Of course, that didn’t happen, but I didn’t want to go back to the way life used to be.
I met my husband through work connections. We went to lunch and stayed there for two hours talking. He took me to dinner and a blues band that weekend. He asked me to go walking with him. We went hiking. He never once during that period made a pass at me, he wanted to know me. I made the first move. He is the most solid, honest, loving man I have ever known and I now have what I knew I could have in life. Someone who loves me, the inside, the part that has been stomped on, beaten up, tainted, but refused to stop screaming out that “I shine with the light that God gave me”. Now, if I can ever get rid of the weight of the world that kept layering itself on me, I can also have the rest of what I never had. But, the point is, I am beautiful.
So, for all you big girls out there, you not only deserve love, you DEMAND it. Not from the durges out there that will take advantage, but hold out for the one that will love your soul first. Never give up.