Sorry, my pretties. It’s a long one…
I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but during my entire childhood I was The Fat Girl. There are various anecdotes I could tell you about how this affected me. The weeping and total embarrassment in gym class. Social isolation. Briefly hanging with the mean crowd only to be picked on by their jerk boyfriends and rapidly ousted from their clique. Intercepting notes written by a girl I thought was my friend, only to read words like “fat cow” referring to me. Experiencing some intense Schadenfreude when that same girl gained a huge amount of weight in high school. That’s karma, baby.
You don’t really need all the details, do you? I’m sure you’ve heard, or lived through some version of these stories before. Anyway, in high school I went to Weight Watchers and became Thinner Girl (I will never truly be Thin Girl, thanks to my big-boned build, but at this point I’m regretting not enjoying the smallish body I had back then).
Like most people prone to being overweight, I slowly gained it back over a few years. Then I became two things: a vegetarian and a runner. The veg thing wasn’t as big a deal as you might think – it wasn’t a weight-related decision, but a health one. I was frequently ill with reflux so bad I had to go to emergency for Demerol and that still didn’t take away the excruciating pain. Meat appears to fight with my digestive system. I did start occasionally eating fish again, and I continued to eat a fairly healthy diet before my pregnancy with Arlo.
Becoming a runner was bizarre. I assumed runners were masochists, so I was shocked when I actually enjoyed it. It was useful in keeping the love handles at bay, and it made my head feel better. If you run, you know what I mean. I started taking a Learn to Run clinic where you gently work your way up to running 20 minutes straight. When the man who owns the Running Room gave a talk at one of our clinics, I wanted to cry. He began his journey as a runner in the dark because he feared someone seeing his then-overweight- self running. I knew exactly what he meant.
I ran for a few years, mostly for fun, and completed a 10K. I was in decent shape. Then something happened – my body became a baby incubator. With Elliot, I ate healthy and gained only 27 pounds. Two months post-partum, I was walking daily and could fit into my old clothes. I didn’t want to bother with running as I knew I’d soon be pregnant again and couldn’t bear finally getting my ideal body only to see it drowned in future baby-sprouting fat. Still, I was relatively healthy and happy with myself.
During my pregnancy with Arlo, a switch flipped in my head. I didn’t enjoy healthy food anymore and I drank too little water. Thanks to being ill for the first trimester, I gained only 24 pounds. I was so small for the first 6 months people asked me if the baby was okay. All this, while I convinced myself that it was okay to eat junk. Sure, I didn’t stuff my face, but I was not eating nearly as well as I had the first time around.
After Arlo popped out, I kept making excuses. I was too tired to exercise or eat well. I’d just had a baby; my belly would pop back in soon. I continued to eat as though I was pregnant because I was “burning calories” while breastfeeding. I let myself have occasional “treats” thinking I deserved them. Then these treats became a daily thing and before I knew it, Fat was seeping into all the cozy pockets of stretched skin sported by poor Belly.
I was in serious denial, people. I assumed that my body had a memory. The memory of who she was when I was courting her, prior to her commitment to carrying my kids. Surely, she would remember all of the running and healthy eating I’d done years ago? I’d convinced myself that I could eat what I wanted and sit on my ass and she’d return to her fit self. I was genuinely puzzled when I noticed my clothes getting tighter. But it snuck up on me. It’s hard to know that you’re gaining a few pounds here and there when you refuse to step on a scale.
Grasping for a rational explanation, I wondered if I’d shrunk old clothes in the dryer. If the clothing industry had once again screwed me over and changed their sizing standards. For a few torturous weeks, I worried I was several months pregnant and had been drinking the whole time, unwittingly damaging my poor fetus. So when I found out I was without child, I was elated. And then, sad because it meant that I was just getting fatter.
Still, I shunned the scale. I hadn’t seen one since my pregnancy. This weekend, I guessed my weight and decided to check. It’s just a number right? Turns out, it’s a very large number. The number that was staring back at me when I was nine months pregnant. Commence moping and self-loathing.
How have I let it get this far? How did I not notice that my stomach, when I’m not sucking it in, which I ALWAYS am, is back to its 5-or-6-month pregnantly protruding self?
I want to be clear about something - I have nothing against overweight people. I was (am) a fat girl. I know it’s what’s inside that counts, blah, blah, blah. I see people daily who are bigger than me and accept that’s who they are. And some of them pull it off so well and look so gorgeous that I wonder why I can’t be one of those adorable, confident Big Girls. But Fat Girl is no longer really me. I don’t feel good as that girl. I feel sad and disappointed in myself. I feel silly that I’ve made so many poor choices in the past year that have allowed me to get here.
This ends now. I refuse to play the role of lazy mother/victim any longer. Commence Operation: Fat Girl Smack-Down.
Thinner Girl will escape Fat Girl’s body, despite being eaten by said Fat Girl months ago, along with everything else in sight. Thinner Girl will scream at Fat Girl that Vegetable is a better friend than Cheesecake. And Brain will also feel happier with her soulmate Running after she ditches her loser boyfriend Sitting On Ass.
Please don’t pity Fat Girl. Or say things like, “She’s not a fat girl!” Fat Girl appreciates your kindness and it’s true that she could be much larger than she currently is. That is why Thinner Girl must take her down now, before she becomes overwhelmed by Fat Girl’s girth. Fat Girl would also like to remind you that she is solely responsible for her triumphant return and feels empowered knowing that she can choose to change anything she wants – including relinquishing power over Body to her sworn enemy, Thinner Girl.
Once Thinner Girl has been liberated, I’ll have her say hi. Her escape will take awhile as her demise did not happen overnight – Fat Girl is a methodical, persistent cow. I doubt Thinner Girl will pose in a bikini, like these fabulous girls, but you never know how brave and proud she might be.
