Being Fat Has Made Me Impossible To Love

fat and deserve to be loved
Love, Self

We all have our armor.

Being a woman means familiarizing yourself with the necessary armor. 

The heels, the clothes, the hair, the lipstick — we all have certain accouterment that we need in order to feel safe as a woman existing in a world that still views us as "less than".

Being a fat woman means that no armor will ever be enough. 

I know what I'm talking about because I'm fat.

This isn't a case of "girl, you aren't fat",  or warped body image, I'm not sad or fishing.

I'm stating a fact: I am fat. 

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I wear the same armor that other women wear, and then I wear a little bit more. 

I wear the cute shoes, I wear the lipstick, but then I dye my hair bright pink and I say something obscene in public.

I do these things because if other people think I'm bold and brave and tough as nails they are less likely to call me names. 

I wear all of the armor I can and more than I'd like because I'm fat and I'm afraid of how you will treat me. 

Being fat has made my life harder. 

It's made me impossible to love

I say this because plenty of people have tried and I've made it damn near impossible for them to do it. 

My friends say "I love you" and it almost hurts because I am sure that any second they are going to realize that they love a fat person and leave me.

My boyfriend tells me that I'm beautiful and I'm sure that any second the spell is going to break and he is going to see the truth: I'm fat. 

I know that being fat doesn't mean I'm not beautiful. 

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But I also know that in America in the year 2016 we as a people view fatness as an obstacle to beauty.

So I've got these two competing ideas in my head: I'm fat and I'm beautiful and worthy or love, and I'm fat and deserve to be scorned and die loveless.

"All of your problems would melt away if you lost fifty pounds," me emotionally abusive ex-boyfriend once said to me. 

The fucked up part is that I knew in a way he was right. 

If I lost fifty pounds, I could buy clothes with greater ease. I could jog without being honked at. I could eat a piece of pizza on the street without someone calling me a "fat cow". 

If I lost fifty pounds I could exist in the world unashamed. 

But the even more fucked up part of that truth is this: 

Me losing fifty pounds wouldn't change anything for any other fat woman.

And me losing fifty pounds wouldn't magically give me back the positive body image that years of being a fat woman who dares to leave her house has chipped away. 

The first time I found out I was fat my entire world changed.

My pediatrician sent my mother from the room and showed me where I fell on the BMI. 

"See this little black dot?" She said, pointing to a pinprick at the top of the sheet of paper. "That's you," she said. 

We have got to change the way we talk to children about food and their bodies and weight, boys and girls alike. 

But we don't.

Instead, many developing girls get the same message that I did: You had better get your body to look like everyone else's or you will never be worthy of any basic rights. 

Every day that I smile and hug a friend, every night that my boyfriend pulls me close it takes me a second to believe my good fortune.

Me, an unlovable fat person, cherished by other living humans.

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It's fucked up that this is how I see the world. I take solace in the fact that I know it's fucked up. 

But that doesn't mean I want it to stay this way. It doesn't mean I have any intention of keeping my fat mouth shut. 

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