I Earned My Thin Privilege

And now I am not.

I am so pleased to be able to say so.

Growing up, I was “the fat kid.” I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t fat, although from looking at my childhood photos, I can see that I didn’t start to be chunky until I was about 5. By age 8, I was fat. Of course I was bullied. I had no friends. The only thing that was “wrong” with me was that I was fat - but that was enough. By age 9, I was well over 100 pounds, and by age 10, I was unable to shop in the children’s department.

Middle school comprised the three most miserable years of my life. The bullying escalated to the point of being unbearable. My self-esteem was so destroyed that I didn’t tell my parents for fear that they would think, “You know what? They’re right. Our daughter is gross.” I couldn’t wear the color pink to school for fear of being oinked at. I couldn’t talk about where I was going over summer vacation because the inevitable joke would be, “Don’t you have to take a plane to get there? OMG! Pigs really can fly!” Nobody would sit with me on the bus for fear of “fat germs.” Boys would pretend to like me and then laugh in my face - “You didn’t really think anyone could like YOU, did you? Fat ass.” I won’t list the other “comments” I remember, but I do remember them. All of them. And it’s been years.

The summer between eighth grade and high school, I was at my breaking point. I had had enough. I decided that the only way to survive high school was to enter high school as someone who was not fat. I did not “diet.” Dieting is dangerous (especially for kids), impossible to keep up, and will almost always result in regaining all weight lost and then some. My mother yo-yo dieted for years and always had dismal results (more on my mom later). I went online, learned as much as I could about nutrition, and figured out how many calories I would need to eat in a day in order to lose one pound every week. I took my dog (who was also fat - even our DOG was fat) on long walks every day, which she loved and I tolerated. I stopped drinking soda, eating chips, and snacking at night. The first week, I lost four pounds. I was beside myself. It did eventually level off (some weeks I lost 2 or 2.5 pounds - some weeks I lost nothing at all, or 0.2 pounds), but by the end of the summer I had lost 30 pounds. I went from 190 to 160. I prayed it would be enough…

And it was.

The first comment I heard (from a girl who had said to me once, after a group of us had won a pizza party for our class and excitedly run outside to tell everyone, “Why are YOU here?” as opposed to how she happily thanked everyone else) was, “OMG! You look awesome!” I wasn’t thin - not by any means - but I was no longer “the fat kid.” I continued to eat healthy foods (except twice a month, I would go out to a restaurant and order absolutely anything I wanted to have). I joined the tennis team and the drama club. I participated on the yearbook staff, the student council, and the homecoming committee. I don’t think anyone escapes high school unscathed, but the bullying was over and the nasty words were few and far between.

Shortly after high school, my parents divorced and my grandparents passed away in rapid succession. My mom and I had to move and I ate to console myself. I ballooned up to 220 pounds.

I was responsible for my own weight gain. I was fat because I chose to eat junk food. I was fat because I chose not to exercise. My being fat was neither the fault nor the responsibility of my family, my friends, diseases/conditions I diagnosed myself with on the internet, the economy, the fast food industry, marketers, space aliens, or anyone other than myself.

I was unable to shop for clothes where I wanted to shop for clothes. My entire wardrobe was from Delia’s fat section and mail-order catalogs. I could see people looking at me in disgust when I was in public. I don’t need to tell you what it’s like to be fat. You’ve been there and you get it, or you haven’t and you never will. I had lost everything I had worked so hard for…

So I did it again.

I returned to my healthy eating plan - again, NOT A DIET. I walked around my neighborhood - just for thirty minutes a day this time, since my schedule was now so busy with school and work that finding even an extra half hour was difficult. I read as much as I could about coping skills and taught myself ways to control anger and sadness that were not self-destructive, as eating was…

And I lost 70 pounds.

I have not put one ounce of it back on, and I never will, because I never want to go back to that terrible place.

What’s the point of me telling you this? I had no intention of ever telling anyone this story, ever. I rolled my eyes at the “fat acceptance” movement quietly until I saw someone on an FA blog tell another person that she shouldn’t bother dieting because she was going to put all the weight back on in 5 - or 10 - or 20 years, and that she should “try not to hate herself when that happens.”

Are you for real? Who the hell are you to make such a statement?

Let me tell you what I think - know, mostly - as someone who was fat and takes full responsibility for it.

Fat should not be accepted. Obesity is unacceptable. This HAES movement is as bad as the delusional chain smokers who tell people that the studies about the dangers of second-hand smoke are “flawed.” There is copious medical evidence to prove that obesity is a major risk factor for diabetes, heart disease, stroke, arthritis, menstrual disorders in women, erectile dysfunction in men, liver disease, gallbladder disease, cancer, and more. I don’t care if you, personally, do not have high cholesterol at age 25. Most people do, or will, and you are lying to yourself if you truly believe that you are not putting yourself in danger.

My mom weighed over 300 pounds. When she saw the success I was having, she decided to do the same. I did not “concern troll” my mom, as I’m sure I’ll be accused of. She made the decision on her own and did nothing more than calculate calories, eat appropriately, and walk a bit each day - at first, for only ten minutes, because that was all she was able to do.

My mom lost 90 pounds.

Because of her weight loss:

• She is no longer pre-diabetic.
• Her blood pressure, which had been high, is normal.
• Her cholesterol, which had been high, is normal.
• She no longer needs to take antidepressants.
• The chronic pain in her knees is gone.
• She no longer feels like a pariah when she goes out to eat.
• She is at peace with herself for the first time in her life.

And because she chose to lose that weight, she will be with us much longer and enjoy a much more comfortable life.

I hold to the following points:

• You are fat because you choose to be fat. If that’s your choice, that’s fine, but do not expect - or demand - that other people respect you for it. “Fat” is not a protected class. “Fat” is not a disability.
• A doctor is practicing bad medicine if they ignore the fact that a patient is obese. It is medically irresponsible to ignore the potential (and probable) consequences of obesity. There is no such thing as a “fat friendly” doctor. If you are looking for a doctor that will not comment about your size, you are looking for a quack.
• Insurance companies have every right to charge obese people a higher rate. Insurance companies do a lot of awful and unethical things, but this is not one of them. Insurance is an odds game. Rates are based on your likelihood to develop conditions that require prolonged/expensive care. Smokers are charged more - why shouldn’t obese people be charged more?
• Your experience is not universal. Neither is mine. Do not act as though you know the feelings, experiences, thoughts, and concerns of every person in your position.
• Do not feel threatened when other people lose weight. Losing weight is a good thing and is the most difficult battle that some people will ever fight. Regarding the comment from the FAer I mentioned above - the only reason for that comment that I can possibly think of is that she saw it as a threat; it was most likely shame that she doesn’t have the willpower to lose weight as the other person did, jealousy that the other person has left the dismal world of fat behind, projection of her own frustration with failed dieting attempts, and fear that too many people will follow the same example and she’ll no longer have an audience. This endears you to no one.

As I feel that my message of personal accountability is as valuable as the “everyone else’s fault” FA message, I will do my utmost to ensure that it is heard as often and as loudly as possible.