I’ve been debating on whether or not I was going to write about this, as I have far more pressing matters at hand, and many more important things I should be thinking about. That being said, I can’t get past this.
The other day I was called fat. Granted, it isn’t the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. (I’m very, very well aware of the fact that I am overweight.) What bothered me the most was that the conversation I was having had absolutely NOTHING to do with weight or health, that it was completely unrelated to what was being discussed (think apples and zebras), and it was made by a person that I respect.
Now, as an adult, I know people say shit they shouldn’t without thinking (I do it all the time) and everything and I should just move on. Yet, I’m left thinking that if this person perceives me as fat (in the part of my world where I generally don’t think about running or lifting or weight) then I am fairly sure that is how the rest of the world (mostly in real life) sees me. As a fat woman. Not as an aunt or a sister or a Ph.D student or a teacher or a friend. A fat person.
And I’m filled with shame and self-loathing (well more than usual).
As if I didn’t feel uncomfortable enough going out to eat or grabbing a coffee, or just existing in the world, I now feel shame and regret and fear. Just when I was starting to feel a little bit better about myself. Just as I was starting to think I could take pride in my accomplishments, I now feel that I can’t. That I’m not good enough or smart enough because I quite obviously haven’t bothered to care enough about myself to end up looking like I do.
I know it was just one comment and that there are plenty of people out there who are kind and nice and treat me like a human being, but as I analyse everything like I live in a fishbowl, I’m sure this will stick with me for a while.