Memoirs of a Fat Girl

I took this picture from last week’s selection on www.postsecret.com. The rules state that when you borrow from the site you’re supposed to link directly back to it, alas, I’m not good at those things whatsoever. I’m hoping the mention and address will suffice.

This postcard struck me right away. I caught myself reading it over and over, because I know exactly what she means. I thought being thin was THE answer.

At the time, I very much thought it was. It’s an easy notion to get wrapped up in, when you’re fat, that being a skinny, gorgeous goddess will solve absolutely every problem you ever had.

Why is this the case? Because being fat in a fat person’s eyes is, hands down, the biggest problem they have. It was the biggest problem I had and thus, every other problem stemmed from it. I was fat. I was ugly because I was fat. I didn’t like myself because I was ugly because I was fat. I was depressed all the time because I didn’t like myself because I was ugly because I was fat. I didn’t have a great job because I was depressed all the time because I didn’t like myself because I was ugly because I was fat. I didn’t have a boyfriend because I didn’t have a great job because i was depressed all the time because I didn’t like myself because I was ugly because I was fat.

Fat fat fat. It’s a vicious cycle.

So I was fat, so I dropped all this weight, so I became thin and for awhile it was a dream come true. But then, other things started happening.

I don’t know how a thin person thinks, in regards to a thin person who has always been thin. I don’t know how a fat person thinks, in regards to a fat person who’s always been fat. But being fat then becoming thin, I know exactly what’s going through that person’s head, the head that starts to play tricks with you once the euphoria has worn off and reality sets in.

I’m walking down the street; a good looking guy winks at me. Instead of being happy and oh, smiling back or tossing my hair, I’m thinking, Why didn’t you look at me before? I was still the same person. Is this the only reason why I get a second glance?

Dinner. I’m with my friends at a trendy little café, chatting the afternoon away. As we look through our menus and they all compare suggestions, my stomach is tying itself into a knot. I can’t eat this, or this, or this. I can’t eat anything here. I’ll get fat again.

Speaking of friends, this was also the time when I started to lose them. Some acquaintances here and there, I wasn’t terribly injured over those, but two very good friends, girls I loved and trusted, flew the coop. The first very suddenly started making fun of my appearance telling me over and over that I had a big ass. I found that more than somewhat strange, considering this was the smallest my ass had ever been.

The second, at the drop of a hat, decided I was letting my new appearance get to my head. Wearing tighter pants, fitted t-shirts, wearing my hair down, traveling Europe with my boyfriend, none of this was me. In fact, I’d become an insufferable snob.

But I worked so hard for this. You’re my friends, shouldn’t you be happy for me? Were you only my friends in the beginning because I was bigger than you, because I made you look good? Am I that bad a judge of character?

Then, I fell in love. Or at least I thought I did, with Jess, and I was skinny at the time. I was thin, I was fine, I was dressed to the nines and he didn’t stand a chance. Neither did I, for the affair that ensued. And every single day into it I remember thinking, Would this have happened to me if I was still fat? Do I deserve it more now because I lost weight?

The deeper I fell for that boy, the more I felt for him, the more I worried. I remember asking him once what would happen if I ever got fat again, if his feelings for me would change. Jess assured me that he loved me no matter what, and would always love me no matter what. As long as I was happy, he was happy too.

Well, look what happened with that.

I’m not saying I wasn’t happy with my newer self, I was. It’s just that I wasn’t happy as I thought I would be, because I know now that it wasn’t the end all, be all solution to absolutely everything.

There is no solution to absolutely everything. That’s why it’s so important for me to not do things so blindly this time around. I have to be doing it for all the right reasons, not just the flirting and couture. In the end, it’ll only be me and myself left to face the music. Fat or thin.

There will always be jerks on this planet for thin and fat girls alike, just because there will always be jerks on this planet, period. There will always be people who will like me better a certain way, or not like me at all either way. We live in a vain world, and no matter how beautiful one person may think I am, there will always be another who thinks I'm far from it. I’ll have to live with that.

As for the voices endlessly nagging me about what if, why not, don’t do this or that… I’ll just have to learn to let things go, one at a time, and definitely not be so paranoid.

So, why do I want to do this again? For dozens of reasons that I’ve mentioned dozens of times, but one in particular stands out.

I want to look at myself in the mirror again. Really look. And watch that face smile back at me.