HEY FATSO!
I bet just reading the title stung a few of you. I know it did me! The sting of that word stills rips my heart.
I was the fat kid in school.
Now I wouldn’t say I was grossly overweight. I was under 180 until after I graduated from
high school. But I was bigger than the
other girls. I wasn’t tiny and
cute. And I wasn’t happy.
I was called fatso, fatty, tubby, pig, you name it; I was
called it. Those words just shred the
confidence and self-esteem of a child.
They do the same to adults but children have these little hearts and
minds that are still forming. It’s
difficult for them to process it as anything but hurt and hate.
My first diet was at 8.
I’m sure I was on at least one diet a year, and sometimes 2, for the
next 10 years. My mother kept a book in
the top drawer of her chest of drawers.
When I got married at 24 she still had it. What was in that book? My weight and measurements she took on
Saturday. If the numbers went down, I
was worthy. If they stayed the same or,
heaven forbid, they went up, well, there wasn’t much value in me. It seemed to me that the only thing that
mattered about me was my weight. Things
like sewing, crocheting, playing the flute, playing the piano, writing poetry,
refurbishing furniture, and making gifts for others didn’t seem to bring any
value to my life. I was just a number on
the scale. A big fat number. Oh, and I hated that book.
I can remember many times seeing myself as a big fat
egg. Always in my mind there was this
thin person who wanted to break that shell and scream, “This is who I really
am!” But I couldn’t. I was fat.
And all fat people know that if you get into an argument with someone,
you will leave the confrontation.
Why? Because when the other
person says, “Oh yeah? Well, you’re fat!”,
the argument is over. There is no come
back to that.
I wish I could say that only mean boys at school called me
names. Oh they did, right through high
school. I acted like I didn’t care. But girls called me names too. And of course I got called names at
home. It was not a happy existent for
the little girl I was in the picture above at 5.
Overweight children have a very sad, lonely, alone
life. Oh, they may present to others
that it doesn’t matter and they are happy go lucky and funny. But it does matter. It is just a terrible way for a little kid to
have to grow up. I never believed anyone
loved me and I never believed anyone would.
Even after I married, it was 10 years before I truly believed my husband loved me and wouldn’t
leave.
For an overweight child, words said, and even words unsaid
can cut to the core. If I heard my
mother say it once, I heard her say it a hundred times, “You have such a pretty
face but”, and then she would shake her head.
Oh, I knew what came after but, “BUT YOU’RE FAT!” It was like fat was all there was to me. I hated it and I hated myself. And I hated the people who made me feel so
worthless.
I wish I could say that when I became an adult it was
different. It wasn’t for many
years. I would have people come up to me
in a store and say things like, “You don’t need to be eating that” or “We don’t
have anything in our store to fit someone like you.” I tried to remember when I stopped being
verbally abused by strangers. I think it
was when I became a manager at my job. I
gained some confidence and since then I don’t think anyone has ever said
anything to me like that again. If they
had, I would probably have fileted them like a fish and left them twitching on
the ground. Yes, they had taught me
well; you can use words to hurt deeply.
I trudged through my adult life gaining and losing; gaining
and losing. That’s what I had done since
I was 8. I was allowed too few calories,
losing weight quickly. When I would go
back to eating normally, I would gain the weight back and more. I was losing muscle and gaining fat. I became fatter and fatter with each
successive diet.
Finally, I just gave up.
I knew I would die fat and didn’t really care when. I remember in the spring of 2013 I declared
to anyone who listened, “I’m never dieting again or even trying to lose
weight. I’m going to eat whatever I want,
when I want and as much as I want.” And
I did. By now, the only thing I saw in a
mirror was my eyes. I knew they were
pretty and nothing could make them ugly.
Well, except the dead look that stared back at me.
But that all changed when I started using Skinny Fiber. I took responsibility for what I put in my
mouth. I made my own choices and learned
to live with them. I started looking at my body in the mirror
wearing nothing. It was so hard. Even now I have problems with two areas of my
body. However, I have learned to
appreciate and love my body, even as fat as it was and is, for taking good care
of me all these years. Sometimes it was
the only protection I had. I began to
try new things, some I had feared trying.
I started pushing energy outward instead of just inward.
I have always been a loving and caring person but over the
last 20 years, it had waned. I found
that again inside me. Giving is
something that gives me such joy. Even
if it is just sending a card to someone in the mail, it makes my heart warm. It made me feel whole. I began to feel complete. I began to be that loving and caring person
again. I was changing from the inside
out and the outside in.
How I wish my little younger self had been able to find
that. Her world would have been a
completely different place. But I will
tell you: I live with no regrets. I don’t think I would have become the person
I am today if I had not gone through all the years between 8 and 61. I was like the Israelites roaming the
wilderness for 40 years. The Promised
Land was so close to them but they just couldn’t see it. That was me.
I see it now. I’m heading to my
Promise Land and I’m going to try to take as many people who have struggled
with their weight with me as I can.
And to my little 8 year old self, I say this: “You were beautiful inside and out. You were so talented and creative. Even though you will endure much in your
life, you will make it to that Promised Land.
And you will be in my arms when we get there. Thank you for keeping me safe.”
copyrighted 2014
caryn cannatella
