Friday, February 26, 2010
I'm not fat....I'm fluffy.
I have found that there are different levels and types of fat that I have achieved over the last 15 years. When I first started gaining weight, right around the age of 19, it immediately started in my ass and thighs. No biggie, this was still easy enough to hide. Thanks to the “ghetto fab” fad of the early 90’s, I could get away with baggy pants and oversized Nike sweatshirts. It was also very feminine and acceptable back then to wear Paul Bunyan style flannel shirts. Problem solved. Somewhere between baggy pants and post pregnancy bulge there was a period where I was in denial about my fat. I am pretty sure this stemmed from not EVER turning around to check out my backside in a mirror, or owning a mirror that allowed me to see anything below the waist. One day I was strutting through the mall in my chunky rubber soled shoes that could only have made from Dunlop tires and my torn up jeans, when I accidentally caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a store window. I was just about to laugh and point at the fat girl with the ugly clothes, when I realized, HEY! That’s me!! Crap.
After this horrifying revelation that I was in fact fat, I moved onto what I called the “I had kids and don’t give a shit” years. This included closets and drawers full of mom jeans, cotton/poly shirts with horizontal stripes across the boobs and mens button down shirts. This lasted for about 6 years and is NOT a period of my life I would like to relive.
I progressed in the "babydoll top” era because I thought it hid my belly and butt and accentuated my FOOBIES (which means "fat boobies", meaning the kind you only have after you pack on an extra 50 pounds). It was the kind of shirt that flows away from the Goodyear you are currently sporting under your elastic waisted pants. The foobies are a good distraction. However, worn wrong, people will stare wondering if your foobies are that big naturally or because you are pregnant Jon+Kate style.
However, despite my fashion faux pas and my days of self loathing, I have always been made to feel better when in the presence of my all time favorite - the "Jiggly Girls". These are the ones who gave up caring what they look like or what people think, and go out of their way to make sure we all know it. The ones who are a size 26 and sport low-rise jeans (in a size 22) and polyester shirts from Dots that tie in the back. I mean, really, who doesn't want to wear a shirt with a tie reminscent of the prairie dresses we wore when we were five so we can secure them neatly in our back fat which will inevitably stress our fat rolls and body dimples? I know if I were someone of the opposite sex and I saw this Jiggler walk by sporting a purse so tiny that it rests comfortably in her armpit, with rolls hanging out and jiggling precariously as she walks, my first thought would totally be "I'd hit that". Just be careful! Unrestrained fat on a girl that big is like a boomerang. You may "hit it" but chances are it will bounce back and hit you in places that will turn you into a soprano.
My clothes and accessories through the years along with the jokes and smiles have been my "babydoll shirt". They hide all the ugliness and insecurity I feel about myself. People have told me repeatedly in the last few months that I am beautiful the way I am, or that they don't understand why I would think I need this surgery, but realistically, I just hide it well. I am the master of disguise, so to speak. I don’t expect this surgery to fix me or cure me of those things I hide behind. I would settle for it getting me to a place where maybe I can believe in myself the way that other people believe in me. I am looking forward to the next phase just being the “as I am” phase.
I will always be a fat girl at heart, I just won’t be allowed to make the jokes anymore for fear of getting my skinny ass kicked.