Nothing to bring you back down just as you're clawing your way out of a hole like a good old-fashioned realisation that you still have a ways to go to deconstruct oppressive systems that were planted in your brain at the ripe age of "no thoughts yet".
(Very long post on internalised fatphobia below)
I've been working hard to deconstruct internalised fatphobia (among other things). I've been trying every which way to love and find the beauty in my own shape ('average' weight, curvy build). I've been gently inserting and steering conversation to the best of my abilities towards body positivity. I've been reprimanding friends and family for repeating tropes and notions. And strike me with lightning right now if I don't love bigger bodies. On other people.
And I've been fighting that last tidbit so hard for so long. I like to think that if I were, truly, fat, I'd embrace it, but that I'm so insecure right now bc I'm this weird in-between where, if I show off my body, people will think I think I'm thin enough to fit the beauty standard (I am not). Me wearing a crop top does not feel like a statement so much as it feels like I'm petulantly trying to make people see that "I AM thin!!!!!" My belly isn't flat. My belly isn't toned. I'm so used to sucking it in that I've developed this weird issue where I frequently fully forget to breathe.
I am a binge eater. I've been fighting that for a very long time as well. I also have (now hopefully permanently dormant) hyperthyroidism and currently no-money-itis. I default to around 80kg give or take at a whopping 1,78m height. I'm the average's average, it seems like. And I honestly can't tell anymore if my issues with my body fat are because society and bullying have destroyed my perception of myself so much that I'm seeing things in the mirror, or if I just genuinely hate myself and the social consequences of fatness so much that I have to obsessively criticise every lump and bump on my bones. Or maybe I'm just that obsessed with clinging to every bit of control I think I have left in my life? I am not fat; I know that. I do not experience the daily struggles of fat people; I know that. Trust me, my mum is fat and has been my entire life. I know.
But when a work colleague asked me today if I'd lost weight, I was instantly sent into a shutdown, at work (luckily my shift today is working solo, but I still have to interact with people), because I had too many reactions all at once. None of them was pride.
You see, I've been battling with myself for weeks now if I can wear a crop top to my local pride event this year. I've worn a crop top for the first time in probably a decade only a few weeks ago and I felt great, sexy, comfortable, until I sat down with my very thin friend at an ice cream parlour. It had been my idea and my treat bc I hadn't "spoiled" myself to ice cream in a looong time when it is one of my favourite foods. The ice cream was good, the weather was warm, and there were people who were barely paying us attention but simultaneously seemed to be staring me into becoming a black hole. And I know paranoia is another one of my issues, but you can't deny the fact that people love to stare especially at those they consider in any way "unsightly". I felt like they must have considered me unsightly. Particularly when my friend is all thin and flat and narrow, even when sitting down, she's conventionally attractive and gets hit on. I get hit on, too, but I don't see that in those moments. I remarked proudly that day "I am wearing a crop top!" and she answered "I am wearing a crop top, too." It made me angry because, I thought, "Yes, but your thinness is not policed like my potentially perceived thickness." Neither her nor I have any actual say in our weights. She can't gain, I can neither gain nor lose. That's okay. It really really is. For other people.
I've seen so many beautiful fat queers at pride events over the years. I am not them. I cannot be them because I am not fat. So I still don't know if I can wear a crop top to my local pride event this year because it won't look like a statement. It will look like a desperate plea to be considered thin.
Another big thing my mind cycled through so very instinctual was "if my colleague noticed me losing weight and I have such issues with how 'big' I look now, then how big must I have been the last time she saw me? And I didn't even realise? How big am I now without realising it?!" Mind you, I've lost this incredibly huge amount of 4kg in however-many months /s. Yes, I can do my belt tighter by one, but scrunches up the waist of my trousers and it's uncomfortable/overstimulating, making me suck in my belly even more than I'm already trying not to do. But there's no change for my colleague to see, really. There shouldn't be.
The last big thing that went through my mind at the question was a mix of anger and frustration. Anger because why? Why would you comment on my weight? Why is that a thing you do? Just why? And frustration because it was 7am, I was already entering the shutdown and so had 0 energy to get into my spiel about why she shouldn't be asking that, why she shouldn't comment on that and why she is playing into the whole systematic- I just said "I don't know, maybe, I don't care."
"I don't care."
For two hours now and for the rest of the day at least, I have felt and will continue to feel shame. Not because I lied. I'm a high-ranking autistic who desperately wants to be an actor. I lie all the time. Being me is the biggest, most intricately detailed role I will play in my entire life. No, I am ashamed because
clearly
I do care. So much.
I've done all this work for years and I still fall short of my own damn self.
But, without wanting to turn this into a bs forced-positivity ✨keep going and everything will be alright✨ kind of inspo-post, I won't back down because of this. I feel deflated, disappointed, deterred. But not defeated.
Setbacks are normal.
Society is a sneaky snake and the roots of those seeds it plants run deep. You probably don't need a white person to tell you this (or maybe you do, but that's another, very frustrating topic), but you won't dismantle all this shit you want to fight within yourself in a year. Not when it's been growing inside you your whole life. And you will hit walls. In others. In society. In yourself. If nothing else can motivate you to stick with it, let pettiness do that job for you. Society right now is still fucked. It will stay fucked for both our lifetimes. Show it the middle finger. Be part of the change for generations to come.
Just because we have to suffer now, doesn't mean everyone has to suffer in generations to come.
If you're not ADHD, chances are you won't get this experience:
I just spent 3 minutes (from entering the bathroom to washing my hands and returning to the living room where I'd left my phone) repeating - out loud - "mayo and oil" so I wouldn't forget to add them to my shopping list. The whole time I was scared I might stop repeating those two items because I might get annoyed with the repetition and 'oh, it's fine, I'm only going to the loo, I can remember two items!'
But I knew. I knew that if I stopped saying "mayo and oil", they would be wiped from my memory the moment I pick up my phone to add them to the list.
On the other hand, echolalia is now never letting me forget my own little "mayo and oil" chant. Fantastic 😀
So, I got a car. My second name's Aziraphale; that A is on my number plate. I dress like Crowley, dyed my hair ginger, too. I had to name the car something fitting, of course.
I now tell people I'm "coming 'round in my Bentley", and then I roll up in my cute little 4th-hand black Mitsubishi Colt from 2006. Hilarious!
