As my weight came off, I saw the world around me change. Men would enthusiastically hold doors for me. Women, with a snap of their gum and a flip of their hair, would compliment my “cute blazerrrrr!” Employees at coffee shops smiled at me, and made eye contact. Some of my well-intentioned but tacky friends would say that I looked “a lot better.” My (always thin) mother told me she was proud of me; she had the same gleam in her eye that she had when I completed graduate school.
As a fat person, I had been used to folks rushing ahead of me on the subway, not making eye contact at the store, or not smiling back when they passed me in the hallway of my apartment building. These behaviors were what I recognized as normal.
After a childhood of being bullied, and a young adulthood of being overlooked, when the world started behaving appropriately toward me (which occurred somewhere around when my weight reached the 130s), I was gobsmacked.
My initial reaction to this sudden onslaught of warmth, sweetness and gratitude from the world was suspicion that the joke was on me. Since I went from a size 16 to a six, there have been times when I have caught myself irrationally questioning people’s motives, just waiting for the paper snakes to jump out of the can.
My second reaction, after I realized that they weren’t making fun of me but were just being cordial, was to be furious. As a fat person, I had recognized that I was a victim of an unfair, unjust society. But I had never realized how many subtle differences there would be in negotiating the world as a member of the club, a “cool kid,” no longer someone to be, at best, ignored, or, as I so clearly remembered from my high school days, endlessly taunted.
When I thought about it a bit more though, I couldn’t really blame the folks who reached out to me with kindness. It was not their fault that society has so deeply indoctrinated them with the notion that thin equals friend, and fat equals nothing.
That doesn’t quite give them a “get out of jail free” card, but unless you’re a full-on misanthrope, you can’t actually hold it against someone for being polite. And the truth is, as much as I was steaming, I also basked in the world’s new opinion of me. There were times, I admit, when I felt like throwing my hat up in the air, Mary Tyler Moore style. Finally, I was something.
Except—wait—I had been something before, too! I had been a writer, an activist, an actress. I had loved Patti LuPone, kale chips, nail polish colors that were “too young” for me. Why didn’t anyone notice? Why didn’t they care? More importantly, why did they care now?
We live in a society that celebrates and rewards the most ridiculous and arbitrary traits, thinness being way up there on the list. And thinness has its charms, I won’t deny it.
But the thing that has been brought alive to me, so vividly, is how thoroughly our evaluation of a person’s body has become our evaluation of the person. We not only decide that certain body types are less attractive, we marginalize, and sometimes abuse, those who do not conform to our ideal, and we sexualize and consume those who conform too much. We are granted or denied privileges that are frequently lost on us when we have them—privileges that we only recognize when they are lost to us.