Diary Of A Fat Chick
I’m back to hiding out in the employee lounge and sneaking my lunch. I can no longer take the subliminal messages of do-gooders telling me things they think can help me. I refuse to suffer through an hour of stares, glares and snide remarks, such as “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” or, “Do you want a diet coke with that?” No matter how small my portion, or how little I consume, I am always viewed as the fat girl who should be eating a salad every single meal.
Don’t get me wrong. I know I’m bigger than most, but I’m not gargantuan. I’m not flocking to the sporting goods store in the whale section looking for something to fit me. I can still shop in Ashley Stewart and Lane Bryant, or countless other knock-off stores that claim to cater to plus-size women. So, what’s the problem?
If you really think about it, I may be fat, but I’m comfortable in my skin—not always, but most of the time. The times that I’m not, it’s because one of these fabulously skinny females brought attention to the fact that I’m twice their size. Some are even so bold as to come by me pinching less than an inch on their waist and bellyaching over missing the gym two nights in a row. Why do skinny people think it’s okay to complain to a fat person about them not being skinny enough? I never could understand their thinking, and always wondered if that was their way of telling me to lose weight. Either way, I always tell them to get away from me with that nonsense.
When will people realize that fat is not a disease, and we shouldn’t be ostracized just because our clothes size is in the double digits. Truth be told, I find my curves sexy. Of course, I would love to put on a pair of jeans and not have my stomach bubbling over the waistband, but we can’t always get what we want. I would love to run into my closet and shimmy into a sleek, black dress and dainty shoes and make an evening of it. However, my black dress is more like a sheath and my heels are either wedges or cone-shaped to support my physique. But I’m okay with that.
The truth of the matter is that my fat does not define me. Fat is not who I am, it is how YOU choose to categorize me. I am a beautiful, intelligent, kind, humble, supportive, loyal, independent and genuine individual with an immense heart. If you choose to zero in on the fact that I am not a size 2, then that is your hang up—not mine. I can always lose weight, but your brand of ugliness is forever.
Tomorrow, I’m going to eat lunch at a normal time and the first skinny person who approaches me with their drivel, I’m going to hold down and force feed them. I mean, yes, I may need to lose weight, but my opinion is that many of you can afford to gain a pound or two or ten. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Maybe it’s time you get your lenses adjusted and look beyond my physical make up. As it says in the Bible, Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!