This one is from a very good friend of mine who wishes to remain anonymous.
Very personal and very powerful. It is a must read.
Hi. My name's [redacted]. I'm 29. And I'm fat. And I don't mean model fat. I don't mean feeling a bit bloated today fat. I mean fat fat. I'm 5'4, I currently weigh 19st 4.5lbs (or I did on Monday) and I wear a size 24. I'm fat fat. And I refuse to apologise for the fact. Because you know what, I'm happy. Or I was until I read this article in the Daily Mail.
Admittedly, that was my first mistake. Reading the Daily Fail. But it passes time in work, and it often posts articles about cute animals that make me happy, like the one about Budi, the baby Orangutan. It started sad but it's getting good. And look at the concentration on his little face while he eats that orange. Adorable! But yeah, I read the Mail, whatever. But today I read the article about that atrocious little man and his 'constructive fat shaming'.
It enraged me. It made me furious. Allow me to explain.
Fat shaming is a subject that has pissed me off for my entire life. I could write volumes on it. On how it has personally affected me, and how I know it affects friends and family. I won't. But I could.
And yes, I'm fat. It's not a new thing. I've always been fat. And I've always been fat shamed. So have my parents, on my behalf. When I was little, the dentist couldn't figure out how I could weight as much as I do and have perfect teeth, not a single cavity. I mean, my parents were obviously filling me full of sugar right? I had to get that size somehow (FYI it was cheese, not sweets. Cheese is AWESOME!). The doctors accused my parents on more than one occasion of over feeding me, abusing me. They told them to make me exercise, eat less, everything. They didn't need to. When I was little I did ballet, tap, swimming, cycling, went to Brownies and was always doing something with my friends in the outside world, involving moving around. I was a kid for fucks sake. I was doing kid stuff.
But I remained fat. I got bullied in school. I don't mean some kid called me names and I got upset. I mean begging not to go to school, making myself ill bullied. I'm talking parents going into school to discuss the situation with teachers. It was serious. And it started when I was 5 and it finished when I was 18. And it only finished then because I left school. It was the worst kind of fat shaming. From the kids stating the obvious, to the ones discussing the food on my plate in secondary school. It was awful. But it was bullying and I had an understanding of that. I could manage my way through the little fuckwits I was forced to be around ever single day of my life for 13 years. It was a thing. It isn't now.
Now it's sneaky. It creeps up on you out of nowhere. Because we're adults now and it's not socially acceptable to walk up to someone and call them names (or, it isn't for the most part. I can't account for everyone, unfortunately). When you're an adult, it's for your own good. You need to be told. Whether it's the doctor informing you that the cold you have is due to your weight, or the sales person telling you, with inevitable disdain (imagined or real) that the item of clothing you want doesn't come in your size. It's there and it's meant to make us change our fatty little ways.
Enter 'Life Bitch' Steve Miller. What an odious little creature he is. He believes that calling a spade a spade, or in this case, a fatty fat, will make them change their ways and lose weight. Telling them that their weight will kill them will make them slim down. It'll save their life! Woo, go Steve.
Or not.
If that shit worked, I'd be a size 0, minimum! Because that's all I've heard all my life. He claims it's for health reasons that he does this. And admittedly, I am trying to lose weight for those reasons. I'd love to walk somewhere without my ankles, knees, hips and lower back giving out because they've carried almost 20 stone around for too long. I'd love that. But don't come all saintly when you're bullying and shaming people into conforming to your norms.
Remember, it's the slim and healthy people who pay for your treatment when your health fails. Why should we pay for your lack of self-control?
That SCREAMS helpful, constructive slimming aid doesn't it? I mean, I certainly feel inspired. Not inspired to lose weight mind, more inspired to see if all that time spent watching Sherlock and Dexter would make it possible for me to actually murder someone and get away with it. I think I stand a fair chance.
I actually hate the assumption that fat people have no self control. I have tried every diet known to man. Atkins, Low GI, Rosemary Conley, WeightWatchers, Slimming World, calorie counting, fasting, 5:2, Slim Fast...I could go on and on for DAYS! Following all of that shit takes control. Masses of control. Especially when all you want is something yummy, a sweet maybe, a bag of crisps, pick your poison. You get it in your head and you need it. You obsess about it. You consider fashioning a shiv out of a biro and shanking a co-worker in the kidneys just to get that bar of chocolate they have in their drawer...I mean, you obsess over it. But it falls outside of your current torture of choice and you refuse yourself it. Not giving in to the ensuing obsession takes every last bit of control in your body. Don't tell me I lack self control.
He's even written a book for fatties like me. 'Get off your arse and lose weight'. Well fuck, I never thought of that! Kindly fuck off you horrendous excuse for a human being. Take your pseudo-compassion with you.
Then there's Katie Hopkins. I won't lie, I didn't watch her show about getting fat and losing it. Isn't she wonderful though? Her high metabolic rate makes it really hard for her to gain weight, so she really stuck with the weight gain to prove a point that it's super easy to lose four stone. Yup. Now make that eight stone. Or fifteen. That 'little bit' of weight is suddently Everest and it's impossible to climb. Even with your desire to prove the world wrong fueling you, and that image of a pretty frock dancing about your head. It's Everest. And you struggle to hit base camp. But I won't dwell on her. She isn't constructive. She doesn't even pretend. She's just a twat.
Back to using health against us. Fake concern. My weight concerns me when it comes to my health. I'd like to not be punished by my ankles or other joints for walking about too much. I'd like to not be surprised by how swollen my toes can get after exercise. And by God, I would love to have less natural insulation because fuck me it is WARM up in this bitch! I've had friends tell me how badly they need me to lose weight. How worried they are. And it's sweet of them but it's not their concern. They just hang around with the fat, they don't live inside it. It's not like I love living here. But you know, there are worse places to live and I'll take it. Maybe do a bit of remodelling. Whatever.
But, of course, the horrid little man has a success story to go with his article on the correct way to mentally abuse a friend or loved one. Tracy, 34, 19st, size 24 clothes. Having read her testimonial I prefer to think that it was in spite of Steve and not because of him that she lost weight. After all, if having a nasty little man telling you how fat and awful and lazy you are was enough to make you lose weight, I honestly would never have gotten fat in the first place.
But what I'm trying to say here, in a rather rambling, largely angry way, is that hurting someone's feelings, belittling them and making them feel less of a person is not constructive. Its abuse. It's bullying. And you wouldn't allow your child to behave in that manner. So set a good example. Don't be a twat. Be helpful. Be supportive. Be nice, it takes absolutely no effort on your part.
So go forth, lovely people, and don't give side eye to that fat bird or bloke you walked past, wearing something you feel is inappropriate for them. If it makes them feel good, feel happy for them. Don't be that guy. Don't be a dick. Don't be Steve Miller.
