Soooooo....I'm taking this creative writing class. The first week of class one for one of the in class writing exercises we were told to write a big, enveloping topic at the top of our paper. Something we could write a lot about. I chose Insecurity. Then she asked us to pass our paper five people to the left. The paper passed to me had Obesity written across the top. I was curious who was interested and counted over five people to the right. She wouldn't make eye contact with me. She STILL won't make eye contact with me. She literally turns her head each time I squeeze into my desk. She smirks and sort of snickers to herself whenever the teacher uses the word "fat."
Last week, I was walking to class and saw her chowing down on a McDonald's hamburger and smoking her cigarette. It sort of sealed her fate. Part of the class is workshopping a piece: includes reading paper out loud, receiving critique and then working with it or not. You bet that every piece I write this semester will have some sort of fat theme.
Yesterday, after reading one of my essays, a friend thought I might need counseling. I'm there. I've been in counseling. This isn't a violent reaction to my surroundings. I'm not an overly negative person. I'm a realist. In that way I can say "I'm fat." This is not a negative thing. It is an honest thing. I'm not afraid to say, "I am fat." I am a lot of things: funny, well spoken, active, fat, overly critical, smart, employed, creative, organized, a redhead, young, a college student, a singer. These are just parts of me. They do not define me. PERSON. I am a person. THAT defines me.
I've spent long enough feeling sub-par because I'm overweight, obese, morbidly obese. I've spent long enough thinking that with each pound I lose I would gradually lose my wit, or my intelligence, or my kindness. I let it define me for the majority of my life. Now I certainly will not let juvenile behavior make me ashamed of the way I look. I've come very far in the last two years (my heaviest and my re-dedication to health). The locker room no longer scares me. Changing backstage does not scare me. Walking around my house naked does not scare me. People looking at me in awe at my size or whispering to one another does not intimidate me. I can look at myself in the mirror and see how beautiful I am and it has NOTHING to do with lumps and bumps and pounds. I bear my weight battle scars proudly.
This is not a mantra. This isn't what I tell myself everyday. There are days when I struggle to feel sexy. But that is not the struggle of just a fat person. That is the struggle of a person. There are days when I feel like I've eaten crap and I feel regret that I treated my body that way. Days when I wear myself ragged trying to reduce my size. Days when I've given the last that I have to give and still not losing that 2lbs a week. That doesn't mean I hate myself. That doesn't mean I've given up on life. That doesn't mean I DON'T HAVE SELF-ESTEEM. It means that life is tough. For me. For you. For everyone.
Feeling negative things (regret, guilt, etc) is motivation for me. It's like algebra...
If I put garbage in my body,
Then I feel {insert negative emotion}.
{Food for Thought}
A process of behavior modification in which the likelihood of a specific behavior is increased or decreased through positive or negative reinforcement each time the behavior is exhibited, so that the subject comes to associate the pleasure or displeasure of the reinforcement with the behavior.
There is no "I'll do better tomorrow." There is "I'll do better next time I decide to put something in my mouth." I don't have to wait until tomorrow to make healthy decisions. I can make them every time I decide to eat, not eat, or move.
So please... realize. I do like myself. These negative things I say aren't to tear myself down. They are just honest. We need to recognize negative in order to make positive change and greater our understand of where our negativity comes from.
Big FAT Love,
Nanette
