The skinny on being fat

I don't have a lot to say about being skinny, since I haven't lived that life ever. But, I can say with the authority of dealing with naked people for the last 15 years that every body size has their hang ups. People apologize for all sorts of things that I would never even think of, no matter what their size. It really illuminated how self critical we are of normal healthy happy bodies.

I have all kinds of authority on being fat. Been there, bought the 5xl t-shirt. It's a bizarre shame I live with , and fight every day. It was my achilles heel. Still is. I've battled with my weight since I was eight. I had terrible anxiety and depression, and I still find it too easy to slip toward that mindset. But I fight. It's who I am. I refuse to accept an uninteresting, unexamined life. I want to live, and being 360lbs pounds I was starting to die.

I lost my weight, I exercised literally half my ass off, I've changed my eating habits (mostly). I just finished a 12 mile 21 obstacle race a month before and Saturday night, one off comment smacked me down. Someone told me she liked my outfit. I said thank you then she qualified her compliment with "You look great for your body type..."

SAY WHAT? My body type. Really. I thought "Oh, wow! You're done." I kept nodding and smiling, but I tuned her further explanations and qualifications of not being bound by "normal society's hang ups with beauty, and size, blah, blah, blah.

It took everything in me not to give her double handed playground push onto floor, kick her in her big Giada bobble head, and stuff her corpse in the nearest potted plant. My eyes darted to the mirrored wall behind us, staring at my reflection. My 80s LA punk tribute look that had been so hot earlier Scott insisted I wear my wedding ring, now was too short, too tight, too whorish, and above all too much. Too much boobs, belly and hips. Just too bloody much.

I was so pissed. I marched over to a table of my friends and replayed the moment. Imagine my joy the first thing heard was:

"What the fuck? Who says that to anyone, especially at a party?"

I love my friends. We trashed her shitty attitude for a few minutes, and went on partying. I felt justified for my distaste of her comment, and rallied to party on. But it ate at me. I had an appointment with a plastic surgeon on Monday to discuss skin operation options. I already was feeling insecure, and that one comment rattled me.

It didn't matter what I did, how hard I worked, what I achieved I would always look good...for my body type. People would still see me as less worthy because I didn't have that little hard body. I was okay, not great, but pretty good for everyday use. Man, fuck that.

The discussion with surgeon taught me that I do not want great swathes of skin cut off me, and reams of stitches at every limb. No anchor scars for this rack. I came home, showed Scott the paperwork, and we both agreed that Spanx was cheaper and wouldn't take 4 bloody years of recovery.

I'm proud of me. That woman's comment did rattle my pride, but I had the correct reaction. It was her problem. She was the asshole not me. I looked good for any body type. I just looked good period. And I should have said exactly what I was thinking, but at least I got angry instead of internalizing the comment, and hating myself.

Lesson from this: Haters gonna hate, and I'm going to start speaking my mind about it. You bitches better invest in kevlar! Oh, and newsflash girlie, big round peach butts are always in!