January 18, 2005

(I wrote this almost 6 years ago. When FA was just a blip of a thought. When I did not think ANYONE else felt like this but me. That I was the only one this ANGRY. This is from my actual journal so I did not bother to get fancy with grammar, etc)(i was also working at Kinkos part-time which may have more to do with my bitter than anything else.)

ok...i was all set to write this and cry WOE IS ME!! but i'll spare you all. and before we go further...this isn't one of those #i'm a BBW so like me for me or fuck you# rants. i loathe the whole concept of BBW...it's mostly insecurity hidden with bravado. while it works in allowing some women to keep their insecurity hidden....every fucking woman i know, fat, thin, or whateva is insecure. stop pretending ladies. it's all in how we deal with it.

specific days/events have determined my path as a life long fat girl. let's go over them shall we?

pre-kindergarten-i had no idea anything was "wrong" with my body. i was four for fucks sake. why should i? and as my home-life was crazy...my imagination was apparently a huge weapon of deception. besides...i was too busy keeping my parents from killing one another to worry about whether i would be on the cover of cosmo any time soon. once i started kindergarten there were more than enough people to let me know IT WAS NEVER GONNA HAPPEN! besides in my head, having to buy clothes in the "husky" section made me some kinda hybrid powerful girl dog. but the actual bitch part was yet to come. i still don't understand what wunderkind at sears came up with that name for a clothing section.

kindergarten-classmates consisted of very wealthy, white, skinny females and boys who were all about eating paste. the boys i usually had no problem with. mostly b/c i was the same size as them and had a mean streak when it came to kick ball. however those skinny girls liked to remind me constantly, namely erin and emily bone and heather welker, that i was "the only girl too fat to wear a crayola belt". for some reason in my grade school those belts were a huge sign of popularity and according to the three wicked bitches, also a sign of thin-ness. neither of which i was. ok..since you usually stick with the same people throughout most of your school years...that pretty much determined my relationship with my classmates. even when my mom moved us back to NC...dealing with my crazy parents was wonderful compared to those girls at school...who eventually were the girls who turned cheerleader zombie. (oddly-erin and emily bone both developed serious eating disorders of the non-eating variety)

junior high and high school-pretty much left alone during this time. which is odd. i was content to read a book and be left alone. i wasn't going to bitch. guys pretty much looked at me with awed weirdness and the girls..well..they were all busy throwing up after lunch.

college-oh yes. this seemed to be the time that most anyone would fuck anyone as long as beer and drugs were involved. so again...who was i to complain? thus the beginning of my intensified low self-esteem and addiction to various substances...all while maintaining and 3.8 GPA. until the end i am a geek. my junior year in collge i met Person X. X whisked me away into a world a drugs that were a lot better and he wrote me songs. as most girls stupidly go...if a guy "loves" me...i'm ok.

the only insulting incident during this time was during my european history from 1485to 1800 final. during every final in college i wore my beloved notre dame sweatshirt. this assy prof looked at me and said..".well you certainly look like you could be a linebacker". three frat boys sitting beside me actually defended me! and i quote..."man...be a fucking dick why dontcha!!!" i had wrote out study notes for them before the test but so what?

after college/grad school-again the syndrome of a a guy "loving" me which lasted 4 co-dependent years. i still had yet to deal with anything. at this time i was working as a cardiac technician on a critical care unit at st. vincents. which is where i met natalie...but i digress.

i had one patient who was like in his eighties and near death and in the middle of starting an IV on him this shit says "sooooo...what do ya plan on doing about all that weight of yours??" now tell me. if someone is about to stick you in your shriveled up old man veins...would you fucking call them fat? being me..i debated strongly how bad his IV was going to hurt and kept my mouth shut. but this ass wouldn't let up...he kept asking me over and over! then he had the nerve to tell my RN i was rude! next incident.. while helping a patient get dressed, again male and old, he starts telling me about how his grandson plays football at ball state. i'm like yeah, thrill thrill whatever, when he says to me "you know...the football team may be recruiting"...not having any idea where this is going i continue with his shoes when he says..."big girl your size should try out!". needless to say...i put his shoes down and walked out of his room. again i get in trouble for ignoring his repeated call light blitz.

first, what is with suggesting i play fucking football? since when do big ass and big tits equal fabulous football skillz?? second...people are just fucking rude. neither time with those guys would i have said...so you're about to die and then skipped around giggling and pointing. i mean with my ass being so big and all how could i have skipped right?

so fast forward to yesterday. while helping a customer at my job of doom...this guy calls me "big red"...while resisting to scream (while shaking my ass at him) HEY FUCKER! MY HAIR IS FAKE THIS FAT ASS IS SURE NUFF FOR REAL! i immediately reverted back to that 5 year old fat girl on the playground. yes, i wanted to cry. but as i am standing there about to go full-blown jennifer drama queen...i had a thought. crying or indulging my hurt feelings would solve nothing. and while you may think well certainly losing weight would...no. i mean would inga muscio cry? would susan gilman cry? would mae west? no. they'd call their best friend, like i did, and while not really pinpointing any actual solutions...i realized, while shit like this is like a thousand paper cuts...who the fuck cries over a paper cut? i mean i might cry a little...but then i'd find something else to be dramatic about and move on.

so while this is a little about my weight and a lot about my neurosis...my point is that people are fucking people. many shapes, sizes, weights, levels of intelligence, skill, faith, skin color, etc.

this is just a slight reminder about that.

anyway. i think i want to make bumper stickers that say LOVE IS A FAT GIRL