Reflection: "I think I am half the size."

Reflection is a series of raw, spur-of-the-moment journal entries, usually written after an incident has stimulated irrevocable, agonising thought. Trigger warnings for this entry include fat-shaming, body-shaming, dating, hookups, self-hatred, and mention of bullying.

I just deleted all dating apps from my phone. I know it isn't as big a deal as I am making it out to be, but it is to me - at least up to the value of two different premium subscriptions, both of which I paid for because I was curious. (Who knew it kills wallets too?)

I've only just started putting myself out into the dating world. I was compelled by the threat of dying alone, which became very real after realising I have been single and a virgin for literally my entire life. My curiosity went beyond wanting to know what sex felt like. I also wanted to know what it felt like to be held, to have someone be interested in me despite by my struggles and quirks, to have a constant source of comfort, support and love to turn to and rely on when I am not strong enough.

I wanted that TATBILB experience. I wanted to carve initials into a tree. I wanted to send good morning messages. Up until now, I thought I really could. My recent experiences, however, are telling me otherwise.

I found an anonymous hookup app. Let's call it P. Having had no luck with the typical dating apps, I downloaded P because I felt like it was a way to gain experience without disclosing too much and subjecting myself to judgment of my photos. The way the app works is you put up anonymous “ads” for a hook up and connect with other people’s “ads” if they are interested. I put up an “ad” that read: “plus sized and inexperienced, looking to try and learn”. I am allowed to do that. I am allowed to want that.

Someone was interested in my “ad”, and we started chatting. It was decent, then we exchanged photos of ourselves, and he started saying he’s a small sized person, and then he said “sorry to be mean, but I think I am half the size O.O”. At which point, I wished him well and left the chat.

This is not the only size shaming experience I have had on a dating app. I've heard every variation of "I don't fuck fat chicks" (copied and pasted; he literally matched me to say just this) - so many that it doesn't phase me anymore. A friend of mine once told me that I had a cannot-be-bullied vibe about me. I guess, as a plus sized woman, I should be grateful for that. (Pls tell me the sarcasm translates.) Hindsight is always 20/20, and now, I feel like it’s a good thing, at least, that he said that then and not when we meet to hook up. I can already imagine his reaction if that’s what his real attitude is. As much as I hate to say it, this is really setting me back a lot, and I just can’t help but question if I don’t deserve to love and be loved. And this thought has been brewing in the back of my mind, successfully dragging me into complete breakdowns, followed by a wet pillow and an empty tissue box.

What I hate even more is that I am allowing this to set me back, because it didn't before. Until I started putting myself out into the dating world, this did not bother me. I did not feel the need for a partner. I still wanted that happily ever after, but the factor that changed was that I am now actively and consciously in search for one.

I think I always have been on a quest for a constant all my life, and the way that a constant comes through in my mind is a relationship. Even with one of my longtime friends. We really understood each other, we were together a lot, we were close, I think I overcompensated into the friendship with my desire for a constant. My expectations grew because I inadvertently deemed this person to be my constant without his knowledge or consent, and in doing so, I become too possessive of the relationship and slowly manufactured an unhealthy perspective that they mean more to me than i do to them. And because of this tendency, my expectations for a partner with real romantic potential grew even more. I essentially started digging a hole for myself. This, coupled with the size shaming online, I really am beginning to nosedive into a dark pit of self-hatred.

From one shaming experience to another, I started feeling the need to pre-empt potential partners on P of my size and the way I look, like I had a contagious STD or something. I said I had my doubts, but truthfully, I know I am worthy of love. I know I deserve to feel beautiful and to be treated with decency, appreciation and respect. I think I just didn't know that in my journey towards that goal, that I also deserved to be shamed - to expect it and then accept it.

But really, don't. My point of sharing this isn't to say we should concede. My point is to shed light on the subtle fat-shaming that happens, that gets swept under the carpet because we're embarrassed or afraid, that then contributes to larger mental health issues that we are left to afford and fend for.

If you have, like me, put yourself in a position of vulnerability in order to step out of a shell or dip your toes in the water, then that in itself deserves to be applauded. But that does not mean you need to stand in the line of fire with nothing more than the shell on your back and a wounded self-esteem. Exiting a situation or backing out to heal is a sign of courage. When it gets overwhelming, take a step back and take a deep breath. I do this to prioritise my mental health, because breakdowns are not fun, and because I do not need to subject myself to the pain, and neither do you.

Love to everyone who is struggling too.

Reflection: Not Just The Funny Fat Friend - Big, Bold, and In The Lead

In my primary school days, I had a friend who loved to draw. While the rest of us were dozing off in class, she would draw us in her gridded notebook. After class, a group of us would gather around her table, hoping to see little cartoon versions of ourselves.

She drew me once, and when she showed it to us after class, she said, "Everyone else's shoulders took half a grid. Victoria's took one whole box."

I can't remember how I reacted, but I do remember feeling embarrassed and guilty. When I got home that day, I know I cried, but I didn't tell anyone about it. There was just no way to put that experience to words that would communicate anything but my own fault.

I am fat.

I say those words to myself a lot more than they are said to me. I reckon I should be thankful that the people around me are polite. Unfortunately, that appears to be a privilege and, sometimes, too much to ask. Not that the shaming never happens, but anymore and I don't know how far I would spiral.

My mind's dictionary listed 'ugly', 'worthless', and 'not good enough' as equivalent to the word 'fat'. I had an obligation to feel ashamed and I did everything I could to meet it - avoiding mirrors, dressing to hide, laughing off public shaming and unsolicited advice. That was the normal, expected thing to do. If I wanted to be complimented and respected, I had to do was lose weight because, otherwise, I did not deserve it.

That voice in my head was deafening. I tried silencing it by satisfying its demands, and that meant splurging my allowance on results-in-a-week pills, some anonymous brand of slimming plums, and a Chilli burning-sensation slimming gel.

PS: they didn't work.

I am fat, and I am not here to tell you a sob story, only to speak about my experience as both a personal liberation and, hopefully, a source of strength for someone else.

Trigger Warning: Fat-Shaming, Mention of Eating Disorders, Racism, Sexism

The Fatness Spectrum

In October 2020, I launched a podcast dedicated to normalising difficult but important conversations. It went live with an episode on Body Positivity where I interviewed two amazing women on their activism and plus-size label. In that conversation, I was introduced to terms of the fatness spectrum for the first time.

Feel free to check it out here: linktr.ee/thetrulyotherpodcast

Graphic from http://thefatlip.com/ via https://fluffykittenparty.com/2019/10/05/fategories-understanding-smallfat-fragility-the-fat-spectrum/

According to the spectrum, I am somewhere between small-fat and mid-fat.

I am not sure about the purpose of compartmentalising the sizes into specific terms, perhaps it gives context as to the experiences of each size. One thing it does, though, is normalise the use of the word fat. When fat people use the word fat, we could reduce size stigma by reclaiming the term.

When did the word 'fat' become a bad word? People come in all shapes, sizes, skin tones, genders, sexualities, and identities, and each of those identities have their own set of positive and negative experiences. People who are taller than the norm, for example, might get stared at on the streets. Yet, we don't say "she's so tall" with the same perspective and intention as when we say "she's so fat", because tall is not a bad word even though it is a descriptor just like the word 'fat'.

Very evidently, the discrimination that comes with uses of the word 'fat' have been internalised and normalised to the point where it is expected. The more we think that the vocabulary commonly-used to disseminate stereotypes are normal, the more we reinforce ideas that people of a certain size, shape, skin tone, gender, or sexuality are obligated to feel ashamed of who they are, of how they look like, and are generally unworthy of love and joy, which is wrong.

In fact, I'd argue that the fat experience is a spectrum in and of itself. I cannot speak for others, but I have been both fetishised and demonised, offline and online. Society constantly wants fat people to want to lose weight, then make fun of them in the gym. They say they are concerned for your health, but undermine your effort when you make it, and criticise you for not doing enough. It appears that the integrity of those who fall out of convention come at the whim and fancy of society and proponents of the norm. And when the discriminated against don't take things lying down, suddenly they're the angry aggressors and "need to calm down".

I do not need to be eradicated.

The experiences of bigger people have been slighted and undermined, not by a lack of effort from the part of the media. Yes, I am looking at the overdone funny, fat friend whose only deserves a supporting-character status and no real plot development of their own. We also have the plus-sized woman's classic rom-com narrative where her goal and story is only validated when she pines for and gets the conventionally attractive, popular jock. Also, not forgetting the 'DUFF' narrative where a fat person's value is determined by the compassion of her conventionally attractive peers.

sigh.

To be clear: body positivity is not promoting obesity. No one is asking you to produce movies asking people to ignore their health and well-being, as if eating disorders aren't a thing. All we are saying is that just because someone looks different and/or has a bigger body does not mean they need to feel ashamed or must desire change. Similarly, being active with my body does not mean I have to change it. What a person decides to do with their body is their own business, and it should remain their own business.

The weaponisation of fatness has to stop, and it is not just about fatness. The perspective of fatness as a sign of failure spills-over towards heightened racism, sexism, and discrimination.

I do not have to be fixed, eradicated, silenced, or shamed.

I am not just the funny fat friend.

Reflection: “Eh, Your Girlfriend.”

I’ve been wanting to speak about an experience I had. I want to call it out for anyone else who has had to face the same thing before.

I was walking home one night, standing at a traffic light waiting for it to turn green. It was late so I was pretty much alone until a group of boys walked up beside me. It was just me and this group the whole time. It was a traffic light junction so they weren’t standing too far away from me, and I happened to forget to bring my headphones, so what that means is that I can inadvertently hear their conversation, not because I want to but because I have ears. Then, from the side of my eye, I saw one of them nudge the other, seemed to ‘point’ at me using his chin and said “eh your girlfriend”. The other guy then said “fork you” and they all laughed about it.

While I cannot 100% confirm that they were talking about me, given the circumstances, in the face of pain, I could only assume as much. I know I’m not the most beautiful person in the world okay, trust me, I look at myself in the mirror with the same contempt as those boys do. I brushed it off because, considering how far I am from conventional notions of beauty, I understood where their ‘joke’ came from. And it isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me, so at a certain point, you get used to it. But I was hurt. I really was.

I just want to say that words are powerful, and we must always keep in mind the difference between intention and perception. I’m not sure their words intended to hurt me as much as they were meant to be just an internal joke, but that’s the problem. Whether or not you intended to hurt someone, the hurt was still perceived. Intention does not negate action — if your words or actions hurt someone, then they hurt someone, whether or not you mean it. If you’ve hurt someone, you need to be responsible for it. This is something I have to constantly remind myself of. Please always remember – intention does not negate action.

And for anyone who has experienced this (or any form of social aggression that hurt you) before, please know that other people’s words and actions are never a marker of your value. We always try to be confident but it’s so difficult when these things happen. It’s easy to say “just ignore it” but when someone’s words and actions awaken that voice of self-hatred in your mind, it’s so difficult to silence it. But this is your life. This is your journey. Walk it at your own pace. You are always enough. ♥️ And know that I will be here to talk about anything.

Originally Published: 18 Apr 2019