Polaroid Transfer on cold press watercolor paper, taken on my living room floor. 2020.
I haven’t been fat my whole life, but it feels like I have. When I began thinking about this project and where to start the story, I kept going back to this moment I remember so vividly. The exact moment I realized I was fat.
Growing up, the scale was in the basement. I’m not sure why, that’s just where we kept it. I was about 14 years old and don’t remember why I wanted to weigh myself, there was nothing that comes to mind. I weighed 172 pounds and I collapsed on the steps crying. I knew that I was bigger than my friends, and now I knew I was about 60 pounds heavier than my friends.
The tears flowed and flowed. Even though now, 172 pounds seems like nothing to worry about. But then, it was everything to me. It meant that I was more different from my friends than I was already. Now I felt like the weird fat girl . I had braces, I was in band, I dressed weird, I liked different music, to add fat to the list felt like the scale might as well have read 500. My mom did her best to comfort me and promised to help me in anyway that she could. I finally knew it though, I finally knew I was fat, and there wasn’t much anyone could do about it.
Of course, peers were cruel and they, whew, were brutal at times. My senior year in my improv class, 3 girls gave me and the other actors the place “Jenny Craig” for a scene. I slowly turned my head their direction, and threatened to set them on fire. They made fun of me all four years of high school. I had finally had enough. Adults were the worst too. I could handle my peers, but my PE/Health teacher mocking me while eating has stuck with me. I think about it every time I eat in public, and it’s why I prefer to eat meals by myself. (Don’t worry, I threw a piece of fruit at her, in response. I also got detention. It felt so worth it.) Being fat has followed me into my adult life. It has cast a shadow on all my decisions, relationships, and internal monologue, even still today. My accomplishments never seem to shine enough. It’s completely absurd when I read these words go across the screen, but it’s my truth. I can’t seem to shake that I’m not enough because I’m fat.
My hope with writing these pieces every week is that, together, we all can discover the roots of why we feel that way and where this shadow comes from. I’d really love to shake before I turn 40, or at least keep it at bay. The last few decades of it have really sucked.