Monday, December 12, 2005

Me-Me #12 -- Fat Girl Thin

Welcome to another installment of, "Come ON -- tell me the WHOLE story!" otherwise known as "I love to talk about myself", and in a pinch can be called Me-Me Monday. The object of the game is to refer to your 101 Things About Me list, pick one of your "things" and tell the whole sordid tale. If you're new and you want to grab this image for your post, see the instructions at the end of my post.

12. I've always been a size "plump."

So last week I confessed what it's like living with a size 3 sister. I hinted at the fact that I was a bit more than a size 3. Truth be told, I've never been a size 3, though I have been a size 5, for about 6 months total, split up as two three month stretches.

So have I really always been a size "plump"? I have to honestly say that I don't know. I can remember being pretty young, sitting at the dinner table with my family, and being taunted by my step-dad for putting a pat or two of butter on my rice or potatoes. "You're fat enough as it is, Kid. Watch it." So I honestly grew up believing that I was a fat kid, a fat teenager, a fat and unloveable girl.

The weirdness that lies herein is that when I look at pictures of myself as a kid, a teenager, a girl -- well, I wasn't fat at all. As a matter of fact, I looked pretty damned good if I do say so myself. One picture in particular (and man, this is where I really wish my scanner was working) is from my yearbook. I think I was a freshman, and I snagged the part as one of the lounge singers (Virtue, ha ha) in our school's production of Anything Goes. I remember balking at the queer wardrobe guy (well, he WAS queer) for putting my "fat ass in all this spandex shit". But when I look back at those pictures now, I looked hot as hell. I had curves, but in good places; my ass, my boobs, and my hips. My waist and stomach were non-existant.

Be that as it may -- and parents, listen damned closely to me right now -- being TOLD all my life that I was "plump" resulted in a plump complex. I remember believing I was fat, and guess what? I acted like a fat kid, a fat teenger, a fat girl. I used food for comfort, used food to stave off boredom, and, well, I got fat.

So from the time I was about sixteen until this very day, I struggle with that fucking food because of that fucking fat complex. I go up (the highests was a size 24) I go down (the lowest was a size 6) and then I bounce back to the mid-range (a size 16 usually settles in quite happily.)
It permeates everything. I don't want to be outgoing in class because I don't want someone saying "That fat girl talks too much."
I don't want to stay too long at the company Christmas party because I don't want the attorneys to think "Who's that fat girl drinking all the Michelob Ultra."
And this:

I can't put it into words, but I can translate what this girl is thinking instead:
"Please don't touch me there. It's just gross. As a matter of fact, can you do this without touching me at all?"

I have this odd notion that one day I will no longer struggle with my weight. I don't mean that to say that I'm going to "be happy with myself no matter my size", but I know that one day "it" will click. I'll figure out that I am NOT a fat girl. Once that happens, it's all down-size from there.

Let me know if you played! Technorati found a few of you that I didn't know about, and if you play I want to know so's I can give you that linky lovin!

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This is Funky, and that is all.