The relationship I've had with this body, as in noticing it was a different kind of body, happened when I was about six or seven years old. I was attending the now defunct St. Killian School in Chicago, IL. The little boy I had a crush on simply said to all his friends "she was too fat for me. I was just playin' her, anyway". Ouch.
I can't tell you the sordid reindeer games we were playing in the coatroom, but when we all got caught, he let it be known that I wasn't worth it at all. And that's when I noticed--the slimmer girls got the play, the thicker girls had their fun, and the rest of us were just straight up targets. I got used to this, by the way. Tired of it though. To combat it, I sort of got into my zone with comics, toys, music, anime, and computers. Later, that branched off into writing. However, I will spare you the long and annoying sob story of a fat little girl who grew up to be a fat woman.
Let me get to the point. In the big bad city known as Chicago, people have told me to my face and behind my back that I am fat. Have made jokes, have extended relentless cruelty, and have pretty much enabled me to put up the wall that's always a line of defense. At the same time, I try very hard not to let that stop me from living, from educating myself, and from liking who I am. The wall isn't always up, and I treasure the people who've made the climb over.
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| Back when I had a supper crappy webcam, and was on the Adult Swim Message Boards. |
Dealing with all of this isn't exactly perfect. Some days are awesome, some days aren't. When I try to explain all of complicated twists and turns of it, sometimes it's difficult to get understanding about what it's like. Folks have hearts in the right places, but the scars can sometimes still be there after all the cleanses and fat burners to a healthier body. I'm not afraid of that, by the way; of course I want to lose weight and feel my personal best. Still, I'm in this body on that journey. Why should I hate myself? Why should I act like self-love is easy? It isn't.
Let's be real--I don't walk around thinking to myself: "nope, nope not fat. Not today! Deny, deny, deny!" I see the fat. I squish the fat. When I see nice things I wanna wear, I dress the dang fat, lol. I see it, baby. And so does the whole world.
My adventures on Tumblr pretty much gave me the courage to love myself more, and to accept the flaws, the struggles, and the idiots--online and off--who just can't help themselves. It's amazing how people act, sometimes. Mad dogs willing to attack perfect strangers, "concern trolls" who want to tell you how to live, and a host of fools who're just bored. I decided I was tired. Tired of hating myself, tired of hiding myself--which at my size is IMPOSSIBLE. I was also tired of feeling like I needed to frickin' explain myself, too. So I decided to do two things--dress how I want, and DEFEND. MYSELF. Why hide in fear?
Nichiren Buddhism also mellowed me out a lot about this whole body image and self-love thing. I can be a real butt-head sometimes, but I'm here on a mission to spread some kosen-rufu, dang it. I'm here to work on myself. I want to be positive and polish my mirror. I don't want to ever give up. There's hope in this hopeless world, and I want to be a part of it. I also want to spread that to other people, unapologetically. Like Janelle says.....
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| If that's all you got, then you might as well keep it to yourself, idiot. |
Beloved, spew your vitrol. Think that you're hurting me, if it makes you feel better. How does it bring me down? I was fat last Thursday when I was in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. I was fat when my pal in GA took me to the movies to see Rogue One. I was fat (and fabulous) on his birthday, in my black dress.
My thing is this--unless you're about to help and pay for me to "fix the fat", your commentary means nothing. Especially coming from a child with his tiny, ashy chest exposed, trying to come for me just because I wasn't here for Chrisette Michelle's mess. I'll be fat tomorrow, too. I'll be fat in the Spring, the Summer, Fall, and Winter. I'll be fat when I get my BA from UT Martin. Fat when I get a piece of fruit later tonight. I'll be fat, even when I lose 60 pounds. I'm built like my dad, with legs like my mother. I was not born into a thin frame.
Why do folks think that calling fat people what they are is hurtful? It doesn't hurt me. It assures me that your eyes work. It means your jokes, with emojis, are probably all you have. It also means you're a hypocrite, because you've probably told folks you're a "good/nice/mellow" person. It doesn't hurt me like it used to, because I know who I am. If people want to judge me based on my weight, that's their problem. And if you're disgusted by me, that's fine. Be disgusted. Here's the thing about levels of relevancy in the world of Veronica:
- If I know you, love you, care for you--then yes the power to hurt me may be greater.
- If you're a nobody, a stranger, some idiot with a big mouth--your words roll off the same fat body you called out.
You're also from Chicago. Your clapback game is weak, dude! F-minus for you! Put on a shirt and worry about yourself! All that, over me not liking Chrisette Michelle's mess? Did you really think that was gonna put me in my place? Riiight.So...
Er...
Thanks for playing?
(This probably would have worked out much better if I weren't 31 freaking years old, and really, really not in the same young and jittery headspace I was in when I was 19. Roni don't currrrrr.)
Lulz, Interwebz mess.