Monday, April 20, 2009

Person of size

"Person of size" is a tough phrase for me. Sometimes I like it; I hear in it echoes of the phrase "person of color," which to me conveys self-respect in the face of rampant prejudice. Sometimes I do not like it; this is when it feels euphemistic. Let's stop dancing around the issue and call fat fat.

I am fat. I'm a person of size. Perhaps the reason I feel ambivalent about calling myself a "person of size" is because I feel like a fraud in claiming a title of self-respect.

I'm fat. I'm learning to believe that I'm also attractive. Fat doesn't have to mean ugly; it's just villainized in our culture. We are surrounded by the message that fat is the most singly repulsive characteristic a person can have, and sometimes I like calling myself fat because I want to challenge that incredibly damaging belief. Fat and attractive: they can coexist in the same phrase, the same person.

Some days I believe I'm attractive, more days than I used to. Hey, I'm hella soft, that's pleasant to touch isn't it?

I met this amazing person the other weekend. She was so brilliant, so perceptive, so sharp; she was gorgeous; she had true depth of soul. I was blown away.

I friended her on facebook and was looking at some of her pictures. I was like, cool, that's the super-amazing person I just met; I feel so inspired! And then I saw some older pictures of her when she used to be bigger. I knew it was the same person; I could see that it was the same person; but my orientation toward the woman in the photos changed. Suddenly, I couldn't believe that this bigger person could also be brilliant, perceptive, refreshing. I tried to convince myself that she was--"remember that fascinating thing she said," "of course she was just as smart a couple of years ago"--but to no avail. My brain could not truly believe that someone who looked like that could be as amazing as the person I'd just met.

Is that how I see myself? Can I only recognize myself as a brilliant, capable person if I'm far from a mirror? I think I really struggle with that. Sometimes I see myself, I catch my reflection, the light hits just right, my cheeks are rosy, and I think, you're really pretty Kate. But I can't look at the reflection too long, otherwise I'll start to notice the double chin, the enormous stomach, the pudgy arms. How could someone who looks like that be smart?

I am trying to improve my body-image. I say to myself, Kate, you are pretty, many people find you attractive, your curves are sexy, look at those shapely lips, those high cheekbones, that light in your eyes. I'm trying really hard, and it helps, as does being around people who are not size-phobic and who offer compliments freely. More and more, I believe that a fat girl like me can be attractive.

Not beautiful though, not yet. Too often I catch my reflection at a "bad" angle and am met with that feeling of dull disgust. Even a good angle contains the threat of the slightest shift of position or light; while that threat remains, it is hard for me to accept myself as a beautiful person.

I want to work on this. I'm going to start saying, Kate, you're beautiful. Maybe when I learn to see myself as beautiful I'll feel more at ease claiming myself as a "person of size."

In fact, I am beautiful. I have beauty in my soul. I like saying, Kate, you're beautiful. It feels like I'm acknowledging that my outside is a reflection of the beauty that lives within me, that I'm acknowledging the deep and complex nature of my beauty. Kate, you are beautiful.

For a moment those words are real, and I feel good about myself. Then the doubts set in--how could someone so imperfect be beautiful? The meaning seeps out of the words; I am back to my drab, grey self-perception. But I'm going to practice recognizing and naming my beauty. Perhaps, just as I've started learning how to feel that I'm attractive, I'll start to grow a more confident sense of my beauty.

I believe I will.

2 comments:

  1. Kate, I don't know you extremely well. I've only met you a few times. But, I felt the need to comment. I am surprised by your posts. The few times I've met you, you seemed so confident and "above" things like beauty. You seemed like the kind of person who only focused on intellect and not physical appearance. I appreciate these blogs because it shows the true feelings of a person.
    I want to share my story with you because I hope it will help you. Since I hit puberty, I became slightly overweight by about 20 lbs. All through my teen years my dad would make fun of me every time I ate. Call me "ugly" and "fat-ass" to my face. My mom offered to go on "diets" with me. My sisters were skinny as could be, and I felt so horrible about myself.
    Senior year of high school after I started dating Erik, I wanted to fit into a prom dress I really wanted that only went up to a size 14 and I was a 16. I went on a crash diet and was able to fit into the dress. But then I couldn't stop. I was enjoying all of the compliments on my recent weight loss and wanted them to continue. I ate very very little and dropped 45 lbs in 4 months. I became obsessive. I weighed myself 3-4 times a day and would have an emotional breakdown if the scale went up by even 1lb. I was terrified of the weight coming back. Needless to say, I had become an anorexic. Then, Erik became worried and forced me to eat. Watching me at every meal. So, I started to eat and gained about 20lbs back (which was a very healthy weight for me). But the gain was too much to handle. I felt horrible about myself and started to make myself throw up when no one was around instead.
    Eventually Erik found out and begged me to go to therapy. I went and it was a process of a couple of years. I had individual as well as group therapy. It was really hard at first, but it was the best thing I ever did.
    Telling yourself you're beautiful is exactly the right thing to do.
    That was the first step for me. I had to make a conscious effort to change my compulsive thoughts and behaviors. First I had to take the scale away. Then, I had to remove all mirrors from the neck down. Then I had to stop myself from constantly grabbing/pinching my fat after I ate (to measure any possible weight gain).
    Then, I had to go through a period where I let myself eat whatever I wanted. During this time, I knew I was gaining weight, but I had to convince myself that I would still be happy and love myself even if I was "fat". I forced myself not to participate in any conversation with anyone about size, weight loss, calories, diets etc... I had to say to myself "I'm better than these people, I care about more important things". And after a while of saying those things, I actually started to believe them, and now I don't have to "say" them to myself, I just FEEL that way.
    So, during that time, I gained the remained 25lbs I had lost back and I'm right back to good ol' 165lbs and I've learned to love it. That is where my body wants to be. I cook very healthy balanced meals and swim laps at the gym several days a week. But, I don't focus on weight loss, I focus on health. I NEVER weigh myself anymore, but I know I maintain my size by the fit of my clothes. I know this is where my body wants to be because I seem to always land there and it's not difficult to maintain. This is my size. It's healthy and it may not be supermodel thin, and I may have a pudgy belly, but there is so much more to me than that.
    Learning to love yourself no matter what is incredibly difficult, but definitely possible. And the depression goes away too. Good luck with everything.
    Tiffany Johnson

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wow, Tiffany, thank you so much for sharing that with me; I'm blown away by how strong you've been in dealing with all of this. And I'm really grateful to hear that Erik was such a good support to you in this struggle. Of course, the credit goes primarily to you; the work was yours to do and you did it, and I am in great awe of what you have done, and how you've learned to see yourself. It makes me hopeful for myself to see how happy you are with yourself now. Truly, thank you for sharing that with me, it means a lot.
    Lots of love,
    Kate

    ReplyDelete