Fat Before It was Trending
"It was almost like, when I looked in the mirror, I couldn't even see how I actually looked. I only saw how others viewed me."
The other evening, I had a deep phone conversation with someone I'm dating. Just for background purposes, this person is a beautiful, black, self identified fat femme, who's body positivity is one of the reason I am very attracted to her. The people I date are usually plus size, because in addition to finding full-figured folks sexy as hell, I like that we have that in common. (Ever since I started dating my ex, five years ago, I have learned to embrace my body type, and use the word fat differently; no longer as an insult, as most of us are conditioned to use it, but simply a way of describing one's body type.) Artists like Lizzo have also helped me feel a confidence about my body that I never EVER had before. I feel like there is an entire community of fat people, particularly fat femmes, who shout self love and body positivity from the rooftops, and for the past few years, I had considered myself part of that community.
During this conversation I had with the person I'm currently seeing, I referred to myself as a fat person, matter-of-factly, since that is how I've always seen myself. Her response, however, really caught me off guard. She said that she doesn't consider me fat at all. She would actually say my body type was average. Now, thinking back to elementary and middle school, I would have beamed if someone said that to me. Maybe I would even hug and thank them. However, the other night, when she said that, I did not feel that way at all. I actually felt a little disappointed, like maybe my fatness wasn't as valid as others'. Maybe I had embraced being part of a community that I was not actually a part of; the community that I had taken years to feel proud of. She wasn't the first person to tell me I wasn't fat. One of my best friends, also a full-figured person, would tell me that all the time. Though when she said it. I just wrote it off as being a way to make me feel better after someone used the word fat towards me in a negative way. I stood in front of the mirror after the phone conversation, and tried to see myself with a new pair of eyes. Had I been seeing something for my entire life that wasn't actually there?
For most of my life, I was bullied for being the fat girl. Of course, the bulk of the bullying happened in school, or by my peers, but there were times when even adults made me feel like shit for being a big girl. My stepfather (who I never got along with) would make comments about my weight and would even laugh while doing so. I can also recall the last time I went back to visit my old church on Christmas Eve some years ago. One of the church gossips approached me and puffed out her cheeks before asking, "Kalima! What happened??" Indicating that I had gained a lot of weight since she last saw me. Even going to the doctor and having them tell me I was obese by their measurements made me feel less than others. Those wounds ran deep, and It took me a long time to like myself and to feel attractive.
Growing up, I hated how I looked. It was almost like, when I looked in the mirror, I couldn't even see how I actually looked. I only saw how others viewed me. From 3rd through 6th grade, when I was in elementary school in Mount Vernon, the kids were just plain mean, especially if you didn't look a certain way. Girls would laugh right in my face when someone called me fat. A boy in my class had a crush on me once, but his friends shamed him so badly when they found out, that he didn't even look in my direction after that. I felt so other because of my body type. In 7th grade, in a totally different school, one of my peers pointed at the new stretch marks that had started to form on my arms. Confused, she asked "what are those??" I was too ashamed to tell her the truth the way my mother had explained to me, so I lied and said my brother had scratched me during a fight we had. Thankfully, in high school, my classmates were kinder, and I didn't experience much bullying, even though I was definitely bigger [taller and rounder] than all the other girls in my school. No one pointed it out, but I still saw myself as the fat girl.
There was one other girl in my high school who lived in Mount Vernon, so we rode the bus together everyday. Alexa was what some folks would call a "snack." She was petite in height, with a flat stomach, curvy hips and full lips. She would get approached by guys all the time when we were together. Sometimes she was approached by grown women too. They showered her with compliments on her figure, and asked for her number almost regularly, while I stood next to her, clearly invisible. Not being acknowledged the way she was, affected my self esteem indefinitely, even though now, I look back and realize she didn't even want that kind of attention from strangers. Most of the time, it was just gross, unwanted cat-calling. High school Me was unable to see it that way, though. I felt inferior to her because of how different our bodies were. Ironically, the way I coped with the way I felt about my weight, was eating. I snacked all the time. In high school, when I wasn't the fat girl, I was the girl who was always eating. It was almost an addiction. I didn't have control over my impulses to stuff my face. I would go out to the store in the middle of the night and fill my pockets with Twinkies, candies and chips. I would sneak into the apartment so that my mother wouldn't see, go into my room, and just binge. I even hid the wrappers in a secret bag so no one would get suspicious when it was time to take the garbage out. (Mommy, if you're reading this, please don't be mad!)
I remember one summer, during high school, I lost almost 20 pounds unintentionally. It was extremely HOT that year, and I did a lot of walking from summer school to my job, to avoid waiting forever for the unreliable Westchester buses. The pounds practically melted off of me, even though I still had an unhealthy relationship with food. One day, during one of my walks, I passed by a friend from church who I had not seen in a few months. He saw me and his eyes widened. "Wow Kalima! You look so much better!" I remember grinning, thanking him, and finally feeling seen. Now, however when I look back, I think "what an asshole thing to say! Better than what?"
My brain is stocked with memories when I felt like the fat girl. Times when I went to amusement parks and people stared and chuckled when the seatbelt wouldn't close and I had to get off a ride. Or when I was in dance class during recital season and my costume never fit when we tried them on. My dance teacher would go from store to store looking for an outfit for me that looked the same as the one the other girls were wearing, but It rarely did.
There was one night, I was at a house party with my friends. We had just come back from smoking on the rooftop deck of the building, and I had a severe case of the munchies. I went into the kitchen and snooped for some snacks. I was practically drooling over all of the options. That's when one of my closest friends, who was also under the influence, made a comment that brought back all of the painful memories that I had buried. I sat in the corner during the party, holding back tears, and wrote a poem in my phone.
She Calls You Fat.
You are at a party and have just come down from the roof,
thick clouds of blunt smoke trailing behind you.
The kitchen is an oasis of junk food that you barely noticed an hour ago.
The red, blue, and gold labels are gleaming prizes.
Both your eyes widen and your gaze excitedly pin-balls from the Cheerios to the Doritos to the Lays.
Your friend, the one with no working filter, watches as your eyes devour the mere idea of food.
She cracks her face into a humored smirk and says “Wow, Kalima. Why are you so f…”
She stops. Drops the shovel before she digs her own grave.
“Fat?” you say. Dry as cotton. “That’s what you were gonna say right?”
She looks at you with minimal guilt.
The lack of sorry curling at the edges of her lips.
An invisible fist clenches inside your chest,
and you remember sixth grade; the last time a girl spit the word at your face.
You remember the whispers and the laughs at your expense.
You remember how your dance costume took a little longer to find.
You remember the way a hollow stomach burns after a week, how the emptiness spreads to the rest of your body and kept you in bed for days before the binging started up again.
You say nothing, looking at the person who you lended the title friend to, and you just walk away.
Thick, salty bulbs, barreling down your face.
The other evening, I had a deep phone conversation with someone I'm dating. Just for background purposes, this person is a beautiful, black, self identified fat femme, who's body positivity is one of the reason I am very attracted to her. The people I date are usually plus size, because in addition to finding full-figured folks sexy as hell, I like that we have that in common. (Ever since I started dating my ex, five years ago, I have learned to embrace my body type, and use the word fat differently; no longer as an insult, as most of us are conditioned to use it, but simply a way of describing one's body type.) Artists like Lizzo have also helped me feel a confidence about my body that I never EVER had before. I feel like there is an entire community of fat people, particularly fat femmes, who shout self love and body positivity from the rooftops, and for the past few years, I had considered myself part of that community.
During this conversation I had with the person I'm currently seeing, I referred to myself as a fat person, matter-of-factly, since that is how I've always seen myself. Her response, however, really caught me off guard. She said that she doesn't consider me fat at all. She would actually say my body type was average. Now, thinking back to elementary and middle school, I would have beamed if someone said that to me. Maybe I would even hug and thank them. However, the other night, when she said that, I did not feel that way at all. I actually felt a little disappointed, like maybe my fatness wasn't as valid as others'. Maybe I had embraced being part of a community that I was not actually a part of; the community that I had taken years to feel proud of. She wasn't the first person to tell me I wasn't fat. One of my best friends, also a full-figured person, would tell me that all the time. Though when she said it. I just wrote it off as being a way to make me feel better after someone used the word fat towards me in a negative way. I stood in front of the mirror after the phone conversation, and tried to see myself with a new pair of eyes. Had I been seeing something for my entire life that wasn't actually there?
Blinded by Shame
For most of my life, I was bullied for being the fat girl. Of course, the bulk of the bullying happened in school, or by my peers, but there were times when even adults made me feel like shit for being a big girl. My stepfather (who I never got along with) would make comments about my weight and would even laugh while doing so. I can also recall the last time I went back to visit my old church on Christmas Eve some years ago. One of the church gossips approached me and puffed out her cheeks before asking, "Kalima! What happened??" Indicating that I had gained a lot of weight since she last saw me. Even going to the doctor and having them tell me I was obese by their measurements made me feel less than others. Those wounds ran deep, and It took me a long time to like myself and to feel attractive.
Growing up, I hated how I looked. It was almost like, when I looked in the mirror, I couldn't even see how I actually looked. I only saw how others viewed me. From 3rd through 6th grade, when I was in elementary school in Mount Vernon, the kids were just plain mean, especially if you didn't look a certain way. Girls would laugh right in my face when someone called me fat. A boy in my class had a crush on me once, but his friends shamed him so badly when they found out, that he didn't even look in my direction after that. I felt so other because of my body type. In 7th grade, in a totally different school, one of my peers pointed at the new stretch marks that had started to form on my arms. Confused, she asked "what are those??" I was too ashamed to tell her the truth the way my mother had explained to me, so I lied and said my brother had scratched me during a fight we had. Thankfully, in high school, my classmates were kinder, and I didn't experience much bullying, even though I was definitely bigger [taller and rounder] than all the other girls in my school. No one pointed it out, but I still saw myself as the fat girl.
Invisible in Plain Sight
There was one other girl in my high school who lived in Mount Vernon, so we rode the bus together everyday. Alexa was what some folks would call a "snack." She was petite in height, with a flat stomach, curvy hips and full lips. She would get approached by guys all the time when we were together. Sometimes she was approached by grown women too. They showered her with compliments on her figure, and asked for her number almost regularly, while I stood next to her, clearly invisible. Not being acknowledged the way she was, affected my self esteem indefinitely, even though now, I look back and realize she didn't even want that kind of attention from strangers. Most of the time, it was just gross, unwanted cat-calling. High school Me was unable to see it that way, though. I felt inferior to her because of how different our bodies were. Ironically, the way I coped with the way I felt about my weight, was eating. I snacked all the time. In high school, when I wasn't the fat girl, I was the girl who was always eating. It was almost an addiction. I didn't have control over my impulses to stuff my face. I would go out to the store in the middle of the night and fill my pockets with Twinkies, candies and chips. I would sneak into the apartment so that my mother wouldn't see, go into my room, and just binge. I even hid the wrappers in a secret bag so no one would get suspicious when it was time to take the garbage out. (Mommy, if you're reading this, please don't be mad!)
I remember one summer, during high school, I lost almost 20 pounds unintentionally. It was extremely HOT that year, and I did a lot of walking from summer school to my job, to avoid waiting forever for the unreliable Westchester buses. The pounds practically melted off of me, even though I still had an unhealthy relationship with food. One day, during one of my walks, I passed by a friend from church who I had not seen in a few months. He saw me and his eyes widened. "Wow Kalima! You look so much better!" I remember grinning, thanking him, and finally feeling seen. Now, however when I look back, I think "what an asshole thing to say! Better than what?"
My brain is stocked with memories when I felt like the fat girl. Times when I went to amusement parks and people stared and chuckled when the seatbelt wouldn't close and I had to get off a ride. Or when I was in dance class during recital season and my costume never fit when we tried them on. My dance teacher would go from store to store looking for an outfit for me that looked the same as the one the other girls were wearing, but It rarely did.
College is for Reinvention...right?
Even while at Lehman College for undergrad, I was insecure about my round stomach, chubby face, and stretch marks. I started dressing differently. I explored a different style that would do a better job of hiding my body. For two years I only wore mens clothing, and convinced myself and others that I hated dressing femme. I actually gave all my feminine clothes to my best friend, determined to never go back. Secretly though, dresses and skirts, florals and form fitting clothes were always my preference, but I felt so unbelievably insecure showing my big belly, breasts, thighs, and arms.There was one night, I was at a house party with my friends. We had just come back from smoking on the rooftop deck of the building, and I had a severe case of the munchies. I went into the kitchen and snooped for some snacks. I was practically drooling over all of the options. That's when one of my closest friends, who was also under the influence, made a comment that brought back all of the painful memories that I had buried. I sat in the corner during the party, holding back tears, and wrote a poem in my phone.
She Calls You Fat.
You are at a party and have just come down from the roof,
thick clouds of blunt smoke trailing behind you.
The kitchen is an oasis of junk food that you barely noticed an hour ago.
The red, blue, and gold labels are gleaming prizes.
Both your eyes widen and your gaze excitedly pin-balls from the Cheerios to the Doritos to the Lays.
Your friend, the one with no working filter, watches as your eyes devour the mere idea of food.
She cracks her face into a humored smirk and says “Wow, Kalima. Why are you so f…”
She stops. Drops the shovel before she digs her own grave.
“Fat?” you say. Dry as cotton. “That’s what you were gonna say right?”
She looks at you with minimal guilt.
The lack of sorry curling at the edges of her lips.
An invisible fist clenches inside your chest,
and you remember sixth grade; the last time a girl spit the word at your face.
You remember the whispers and the laughs at your expense.
You remember how your dance costume took a little longer to find.
You remember the way a hollow stomach burns after a week, how the emptiness spreads to the rest of your body and kept you in bed for days before the binging started up again.
You say nothing, looking at the person who you lended the title friend to, and you just walk away.
Thick, salty bulbs, barreling down your face.
Very, very relatable. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteI love that you are sharing so much of yourself with the world. People need to feel like they’re not alone, and I’m sure you’re a beacon of light for many. Thank you for sharing your beautiful spirit with us.
ReplyDelete