I find that I relate, sympathize and agree with everything in the realm of fat acceptance. Dieting is ridiculous. WLS surgery is dangerous and unnecessary. Some people are just designed to be large, just like some folks are short, or have blue eyes.

However, I’m a small fattie. And I’m a little scared that I’ll be booted out on my derriere because I don’t know the real stigmatism that big girls and boys face.

But I do. I’ve been anorexic. I’m still fighting bulimia [though I haven’t had an episode in a month- knock on wood] and I’ve never seen myself as anything but obese. My grandmother, my aunt, my fiances parents… The fat people in my life don’t realize that I’ve been the same size as them all along. I’m working to see me- but even if I can one day look in the mirror and see myself looking back, and not some snaggle-toothed pig monster, that doesn’t erase how I’ve felt in the past. I haven’t had people call me names in public- but I’ve been sure they’re thinking bad things about me. I haven’t had a doctor order weight loss as a remedy for what ails me- but I’ve been certain that he’s going to suggest it the next visit.

 I am extremely big-boned. My legs are disproportionately huge compared to my upper torso. They are almost cartoonish- like big tree stalks with thick ankles, giant knees and calves nearly the width of my thighs. They still give me grief- I haven’t worn shorts in many years. I don’t go to the beach. I don’t wear short skirts. Pants that fit me in the legs, don’t fit me anywhere else. I don’t have a butt- and no, it’s not a weird blessing. It’s kinda silly. I’m one of those people who’s always inadvertantly showing everyone what kind of underwear she’s wearing, because the pants that will fit my legs won’t fit my ass. I’ve never found a pair of knee high boots that fit me. Even boots made for larger women don’t want to accomodate a big calf, and a big ankle. It’s not as bad as facing a clothing line that defines “plus sizes” as 12-14. But I’m feeling ya. Fashion is often my enemy.

 I’m at a transitional point in my life. Since high school I’ve been forcibly taking my weight by the shoulders and marching it in whatever direction I wish. I’ve dieted to hair-falling out weakness, and I’ve binged so hard that I’ve put on over 15 lbs in one week. I don’t know what to expect, now that I’m eating to live, and eating for enjoyment. Now that I have a full, satisfying meal and don’t find myself crouched over the toilet bowl ten minutes later. I could become very large. I could stay right where I am, give or take. I’m impatient to be there. To be consistent and familiar with myself.

Whatever transpires, I can handle it. Because I’ve been there. It’s an odd cycle. I’ve spent most of my short life “obese”- and now that I’m starting over again, I’m eager to see where it brings me. Even if I end up as fat as I used to imagine myself.

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