Why should fat be a dirty word?
Alright, if you know me, you are gonna tell me it is ‘OK’ for me to write this particular post. Because I am slim (and I have been so all my adult life). You think I don’t understand what it means to be fat? Wrong! Not till you hear my story…
Some moons ago, as a teenager, I remember being on constant diets. I recall that era was not a really great for me. I’ll give you a bit of background…My dad’s side of the family are skinny /slim. They don’t get middle age spread or young age spread or any spread.
With the exception of my mum, her family are the complete opposite. My maternal grandma once told me that that her mother (which would be my great grandma) had been quite big. So much so that she would have wade herself in by her side to get through a particular door.
OK the door was slightly narrower than average, however I could not conceive in my childish eyes back then how large anyone could be for that to happen! I think there must have been some massaging of facts somewhere, but hey ho, the emphasis was she was a BIG mamma.
By the time I turned 14, my clothes were beginning to lack wriggle room. It was not because I was eating more or snacking either. The weight just arrived. (I resisted taking photos, so sorry mates, I got not much to prove. But trust me when I said I was chubby). Mum and dad said it was puppy fat and the weight would just slide off.
The slide was taking it’s time. So to hasten the process, I started skipping school lunches, cutting back on this and that, to no avail. My parents did not know I was giving away my school lunch! Sometimes I threw my dinner in the bin. Looking back, I was not even fat per se, just not slim!
I would look at my parents with envy. Why had fat ‘escaped’ my lovely slim mother, and landed unannounced without mercy on me? I could not embrace how I looked. I hated it. Fat was an ugly word.
This was made worse by the teasing I received from my paternal grandmother who would tell me I would be broad as an adult. Look at your hands, she would say. My hands looked broad indeed. Look at your neck. I could see the creases of a double chin beginning to form. Nan reminded me that I was going to end up like my maternal side.
I took one look at one of my uncles from said side, and hoped my weight would dissolve in the resulting tears! My paternal grandma even had a nickname for me. (I checked to see if in any of my previous emails I had in a moment of ‘being too free’, I had volunteered that name. Thankfully not!). But the nickname was centered around being fat! I hated it.
By this time, I was now causing concern to my parents as I slowly started to stop eating that much. My paternal grandma was kindly asked not to mention my weight or size any longer… or nickname. Thankfully, she complied. By the way I was not offended with my paternal grandma cause she used to spoil me in so many other ways. However, her generation said things as they saw it. They did not mince their words back then. Forget child psychology. Forget that kids had feelings. Kids were seen and not heard…nor did they answer back!!
My parents reassured me that the weight would go. My mother however was keen that I did not indulge in things that would make me have an unhealthy weight. I was not allowed cakes. (I will save that tale for another time, if I have not already mentioned it before).
Being fat with a healthy weight is not an issue. But when fat now leads to obesity, of course, there is an issue and I would be wrong to support that. I think my mother was secretly worried indeed because overweight and obesity had caused issues with health with some of her family members.
By the time I had got to 18, the weight had miraculously disappeared. It was not anything special I did in fact. It just came off. The slide had finally happened; in fact, I got quite skinny much to everyone’s including my surprise.
However, by my early 20s, I hated being called skinny. I put myself on a fattening diet. I had gone from one end of the rope to the other. One lady even once stopped me just to ask me if I ate! I was flabbergasted. When I would jump on the scale I would rejoice if I had put on a mere 1 pound. I bought a scale solely to monitor that I was putting on weight. I looked at the ‘rounded’ people around me (those that would have called chubby) with newly discovered envy. How the tables had turned.
My story clearly proves a point that – slim, fat, skinny, chubby,- often it how we embrace ourselves that matter. Inasmuch as fat became a dirty word for me, equally skinny became a dirty word for me too. I hated being called skinny. Really did.
OK, today I am slim…Some still say I am skinny!! And I still tell them I am not. I eat, OK? Anyway, skinny or slim, I have been so for many years.
But the real truth I discovered in all this, is to be happy with ourselves. There are some people who would never look as great being slim. Likewise the same for being ‘rounded’. I did not like the way I looked when I was ‘skinny’. See my point?
When we are confident about how we look whatever our size, others will see and connect with that confidence. The real beauty is not outside a person but inside.
Fat does not have to be a dirty word. It is not shameful. It does not make an individual inferior. We need to stop the brain washing that skinny equates beauty.
Fat does not always mean either that an individual is irresponsible with their health and has bad eating habits. For example, when Chuck was on medication he was one and half times his size today. We do not know the circumstances beyond a person’s weight and size, and therefore must not be quick to judge.
So I have babbled today. My secret is out too, hmm, maybe I said divulged too much, lol, but hopefully I have driven home the fact that fat is not a bad word!
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