This is a tale of a “hot girl” gone fat.
I lost 25 lbs. Great. Who cares, because I don’t.
The only real motivation I had to lose weight in the first place was because I am in the US Armed Forces. There are height, weight and BMI requirements for your frame and they must be followed or else, eventually, you will be separated from service.
Other than that, I had no real interest in slimming down or getting back to my smaller size. I was still the exact same person on the inside, so it didn’t matter to me if my outsides got bigger. In fact—I liked being bigger. Funny thing is, I considered myself to be “opporexic”–the opposite of anorexic. Anorexics are very thin, emaciated even, and think they are overweight. I was overweight but still saw and thought of myself as thin. My thin mentality and perspective of myself did not match up with what the reality was and what other people saw. I was fine with my bigger me…
Because, I was thin my entire life, I never gave thought to the meat, or lack of, on my bones. It was a given that I was naturally thin and would always remain that way. I had absolutely no awareness or concern of my body’s size. Weight issues seemed to be something reserved for older women or people that were just born overweight.
Since I was ALWAYS thin, and never, ever had to go on a diet, when I needed to start slimming down, I didn’t even know how to count calories. A calorie. What’s a calorie?
My friends and family would always joke with me and say, “You’re like a bottomless pit, where do you put it?” So, for 36 years, my body was thin and more interestingly, my mind thought I was thin. Once I started to gain weight, I didn’t even notice it. I couldn’t even see my weight-gain in the mirror. I was still the same old, thin gal I had always been. At least my mind thought so. The scale, my jeans and the Navy told me otherwise.
What I did notice was that my weight gain seemed to bother other people, even if it did not affect me. My mother would mention it every time she saw me, and it seemed to now become a “thing.” “You know, you really should lose that weight, you’re big.”
And, my favorite was: “You have gotten fat and your ass looks really big in jeans.”
Then stop looking at my ass.
I felt really comfortable in my bigger frame. I wasn’t being prayed upon constantly by men or cat-called when I walked in public. It was really nice to be invisible and treated with respect. That was something I’ve never felt before and got used to it very quickly. Therefore, I had no intention of becoming thin again.
At this point, I was consciously rebelling against what my thinness triggered in people, men, society. I wanted no part of it. I was completely comfortable and happy in my larger frame—more so than in my thin frame. I was treated like a person and not a fuck doll. I could definitely get used to that.
My meat suit served me in a positive way. My meat gave me the space and time to heal from negative attention and gross misconduct from men with perverted intentions. It was a nice break. My being overweight put me in a position of offense instead of always being on the defense. No one hit on me, no one gave me the up-and-down sex stare—no one showed interest. This was a welcoming break.
I would rather keep people away with my larger size than attract people with my smaller size.
Gaining a significant amount of weight (I would say a total of 67lbs – from my lowest weight of 100lbs when I was at my IBS sickest) made me feel powerful and liberated. I felt like a real woman. I felt like I was in control. And most importantly, I felt beautiful.
On the other hand, growing up thin and shapely, the world also puts a label on you (that’s hard to ignore). Women get jealous, mean and insecure around you and men fawn, fall over themselves and hunt you down like a baby dear in quick sand. All of the attention garnered from the world was on physical looks.
As a result, my societal value as a woman essentially decreased as my weight increased.
What I’m expressing is not revolutionary. “Fat suit” experiments on woman have been down for decades and the same opinions and feelings were noted.
Now, that I have lost this weight, and will once again be cast in the acceptable-weight-for-a-woman-to-be-considered-attractive camp and I want nothing to do with that camp –or those campers. Like wine, my worth as a mature woman has increased, no matter what weight I am.
Recovering from a terrible flare of IBS for two years completely changed my body. My digestion was faulty and my metabolism was shot. I was lucky to be able to eat solid food without being in immense pain and was lucky to not run to the bathroom immediately after eating.
With each pound I had to lose, I felt resentment. No resentment for the fact I was overweight but for the fact that shedding these pounds would once again put me in the visible light of “looking good.” “Wow, you have a great body,” or “Damn, you look good.” Those judgments, whether “positive” or not, were a harmful construct of acceptance and approval from people and society that I never asked for–nor sought.
Mind your own plate, please.
It is a reality and truth that with more unnecessary weight we gain, the more at risk we are of disease, and the probability of other health issues increase. I fully understand that. So that, and that only, was the full reason for my motivation to lose the weight—to be a healthier person, from the inside out.
I do not care what men think of me, whether they find me physically attractive or not. Whether I am considered “fuckable” or “hot.” I really don’t give a shit.
So, after years of trying to lose this weight, I lost 25lbs. And, I went down a few pant sizes. Great. Now I have to spend more money on clothes. And besides the health benefits, I still don’t care.
As spiritual beings having a human experience, it’s hard not to concentrate on the physical aspects of life. Living in a world that is blind to the value of heart and soul but sees a 24-inch waist and a large backside as a solid value, it’s pretty hard to compete when the world deems you invisible.
Funny enough, at the 10lb weight-loss mark, the hits started coming. Men would start making small talk in the street, locking eyes and smiling invitingly. It made me sick to my stomach. Now, sans a dime, I am worthy of your attention and admiration? Keep it and go scratch 😉