So lets address the over all question I have gotten from one reader and then from a friend of mine. Why do I say “fat girl” why do I say that there is a “trapped skinny girl”?
Okay lets not beat around the bush. I am fat. I am not skinny. I am however a skinny girl trapped in a fat girls body. So rather then sugar coat my wording to appease readers, I realized this is MY blog. My journal so to speak, and I can call it what I want. When you write a blog you can call it what you want. Fluffy, thick, large, big boned, plus size… What ever you want.
I am not happy in the skin I am in. So while others are okay with how they are. I don’t wear fat proudly. I view myself as much thinner. When I see photos of myself I am shocked by what I see. I cover myself with hoodies and dark pants. Not that I think I need to be a certain way because society says that is the more attractive image. Rather because this fat makes me sick, literally. Also this fat makes me uncomfortable, emotionally and physically. Everything from smell, rashes, the way I feel in clothes. What I can and can’t wear and so many other things.
HOWEVER, let’s be real here for just a minute. Other then health wise. I have asked myself. Would I care as much about my weight if say, every magazine cover was a fat woman? What if every model was bigger then a size 14. What if bigger really was better? Would I be here now? Or would I be strutting my fat down main street like I am the shit and you can all bask in that? Yea, I would. So what society thinks of me does play a part in why I want to be thinner. I want to wear fashionable clothes. I want to look like my husbands physical equal. I want to wear a bathing suit that says I am hot stuff. I want to wear boots that go up my calves. Or a bra that doesn’t make me look like the pillsbury dough boy with boobs.
So you might be thinking. “Make up your mind, do you care what people think, or not?” Well to be fair, I would be lying if I didn’t say. EVERY SINGLE DAY. My stomach has started to hang now, and unless I go out of my way to layer and wear a tank top under my hoodie to cover my belly, you will see my belly poking out the bottom of my shirt through my jeans. Ugghhh even the visual of that makes me just hate it. I think most of all I hate this stomach. So now that I can no longer hide it, or make it blend with clothes, I get anxiety about what people think when they see me.
When I was younger and I don’t say this proudly at all. I was like many people in the fact that I was ignorant, selfish, and kinda mean. I would see a fat person who looked like I do now and think. Dear God I hope I never look like her. I would even turn to a friend and kid around and say “If I ever get like that just kill me.” Now many years later I am that girl. I wish I would have bitten my tongue, or been wise enough to say, J that could be you someday. Pray for her don’t judge her. It is sad that until you are faced head on with an issue, you can’t see how important it is to have compassion for it. This last year I have been faced with many issues that I never knew would be so important to me until they happened to me. Death, cancer, obesity, and so many more.
So since I can die tomorrow, I admit here and now. I am a fat girl. There is a skinny ( thin, slender, fit, in shape, what ever you want to call it,) girl dying to get out and with the help of a gastric bypass surgery I am going to help set her free.