In the last couple of weeks, I’ve had some “compliments”
about my body. People I don’t know well
are the people providing me with these morsels.
Please do not compliment me if you think I’ve lost weight.
I understand that it is socially acceptable (more like
encouraged) to be cheerleaders for those of us who carry a bit extra. I understand that you’ve never even
considered the possibility that I liked
and that I miss that ten pounds that
I lost.
This is my PSA. This
is me, making you aware.
My body is safe. As a
fat woman, I am less often the target for unwanted sexual advances than my thin
friends. As a fat woman, I am less often
sexualized by society and by those close to me.
As a fat woman, I am often overlooked in certain discussions and in
certain groups of people. Sure, being
fat has its own dangers. I am constantly
aware of the space my body occupies and how much is left for those around
me. I am constantly aware of how my
clothes are falling on my body. I am
constantly aware of my public food intake.
But these are discomforts that are comfortable to me. I have grown accustomed to these thoughts and
worries; this is auto-pilot for my brain.
Weight loss is dangerous.
It makes me visible to people I have never been noticed by before. It throws off my measurements on occupied
space. It makes me unsure of how my
clothes are fitting. It makes me
hyper-aware of what I am eating, taking me back to a dark place I never want to
see again. It makes me a stranger to my
body.
After a year of maintaining approximately the same weight,
it is frightening to hear someone ask if I’ve lost weight. It reminds me of that old ache I would feel
when I weighed myself every morning, the ache that tugged at my health and my
sanity, the ache that reminded me it was never good enough. You know, that ache that I can’t resist, even
now. There’s a reason I avoid the
scales, and it isn’t because I’m ashamed of my body. It is because I know my mind is fragile, even
though I tell myself almost every day that it isn’t. It is because I am barely holding onto the
reigns of that ache which dominated my life.
I’ve managed to harness the control I once abused on my body and
redirect it in more productive and less harmful activities. I don’t want to let that control take its old
position back.
I will almost always say “no” if you ask if I’ve lost weight
because it is easier and it ends the conversation very quickly, which is
ideal. If I’m feeling sassy, I might
respond with a simple, “That’s a personal question.” You will never again hear me say, “Thanks”
when you follow up with something like “well, you look great!” or “keep doing
whatever you’re doing because it is obviously working!” because why should
I? I know I look good to me and I know
that what I’m doing is working for me, and that my looks are not contingent on
shrinking. I would also prefer a comment
on something not about my appearance, like maybe my attitude. But if it has to be my appearance, at least
compliment my t-shirt or shoes, which reflect my taste and not my personal
struggles with my body.
Please be more mindful of this in the future. Please do not automatically assume that
people you don’t know well who appear to have lost weight have done so
intentionally. There are many reasons
for a person to lose weight outside of aesthetics. Perhaps this person needed to lose weight in
order to get an important surgery.
Perhaps this person lost weight as a result of medication or an
unhealthy eating habit, or even disorder.
Perhaps this person lost weight due to illness. Perhaps this person is me, who is comfortable
in her own skin and is frightened of losing that comfort.
Regardless of the reason for the change, it is not any of
your business if someone else has lost weight.
We do not have the authority to make judgments or criticisms about
another person’s body. We are not and
should not ever be body police for each other.
It won’t hurt anyone if you don’t say anything, but there is
always a possibility of doing some damage if you do.
-WW
No comments:
Post a Comment