A Revelation on July 21, 2008:
so in my monthly search for plus-size clothing on the internet, i came across an article that referenced the pretty pear, which is a blog by a woman who loves clothes, but is definitely not a size 2 (or 6 or even 10), yet still manages to find good stuff on a regular basis. i decided to take a look, because - to be honest - looking at torrid gets a little boring sometimes.
lo and behold, a whole new world had been opened up to me!
there are dozens of women out there who blog about their experiences as fat women...and not once do they remind me to cut back on what i'm eating. because i've been hearing that mantra ever since i turned 12, hit puberty, watched my hair go curly and my stomach extend:
"are you really going to eat all that?"
"do you really need desert?"
"can you really eat all that?"
i've tried dieting, i've listened to my mother and at least 8 different doctors, i've seen therapists. and all it's made me want to do is break down and cry (or end it all, at a couple of points). my chronic depression was spurred on by my weight (and my weight went up whenever i was depressed, only making things worse). i was a size 12 at age 12, a 14 at 14, a 16 at 16, an 18 at 18, and a 20 at 20. so far, i haven't hit a 22 at 22, but there's obviously a pattern, and not really much of a way of stopping it.
and the thing is, other than my rotten caffeine addiction (which i'm trying to kick for other, mostly unrelated reasons), i'm not actually that unhealthy an eater. i love vegetables and i generally don't eat many carbs. granted, my metabolism's shot because i never eat breakfast, but really...
stressing out about food all the time is not entertaining. talking about food when you ENJOY it, that's one thing. but i've been talking about food like it's the devil since i was twelve. and i've seen what it's done to me. i've never been in a serious relationship. and i have difficulty making and maintaining friendships. purely because my self-esteem is way lower than what is necessary to talk to people on a regular basis. and there are reasons for it. yes, i have had people laugh at me and make fun of me because of the way i look. yes, i spent most of my adolescence fighting with my mother because i was fat and she wasn't.
yes, i have lost job opportunities because of the way i look.
in fact, a closeted (now uncloseted) reason for me coming to taiwan was the fact that i knew to get the job, the interview would be over the phone. and they wouldn't see me. when i left the first job, it was difficult to get other employers to take me seriously, not to mention the students.
the high school-aged students in taiwan are the worst for self-esteem.
it took me until i was 20 to accept myself for what i am and to beat the cycle of depression that had been eating me alive since i was 13. i would generally call myself a happy person these days, although i still freeze at fat comments.
but maybe i don't have to. i'm reading these articles, blogs, and online zines, and i'm thinking to myself, maybe i'll be okay. maybe, instead of not getting married because no man wants me, i can not get married because it's a choice. i mean, it didn't help my dating life that immediately after i started accepting myself, i came out to taiwan, where NO white woman can get a date, let alone one who has little experience to begin one (i was about to type "let alone a fat one," and i realized how self-defeating it was to think that way).
and maybe, i can work at a job, and not be constantly judged on my weight instead of my performance.
maybe it's okay to be white, and liberal, and catholic, and fat, and all of those other labels i attach to myself.
it's a rather liberating feeling.
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