Acceptance: On being FAT: Facing the final taboo!


https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/acceptance/

I am fat! There, I’ve said the ‘F’ word that lurks in closets and writhes with shame. F.A.T. According to many, I dare say I am not simply fat, but grossly, morbidly obese – and should, I am sure, be marched off by the Diet Nazis (those who genuinely believe that a size 12 equals extra large!) and force-fed fresh air until my unsightly curves dwindle to a more acceptable size…

I am fat! And, for the first time in my life, I do not give a shit! I have given up weighing myself, though I know that my current weight lies somewhere between twelve and thirteen stone. I have stopped obsessing over diets created by Sadists and measuring myself tearfully to see if my vital statistics are anywhere near the ideal. I have ceased to see my fat as an automatic deal breaker when it comes to men and sex.

To use a vile glossy magazine-type euphemism for all fatties everywhere, I celebrate my curves – and if, on the beach, I look more like something in need of harpooning than a conventional Beach Babe, who cares?!

Yes, I have extra flesh! Crime of the century, this appears to be in modern parlance. Ye gods! My overhang – a result of giving birth and not been a zealot when it came to busting my balls (as it were) in order to spring back to a size and shape acceptable to the world at large – makes me laugh. Yes, shock horror, I admit in public to an overhang, to plumptiousness in the abdominal area; to a weight so far above the idyllic size zero that slim women are torn between shooting me (though not eating me: The carbs, darling!) and patronising me to death.

According to those lovely little weigh yourself machines in major supermarkets, I have a BMI of an elephant and am well into the obese section of the graph. I am, therefore, according to some, a weak-willed, unattractive, greedy pig of a female, a disgrace to womankind and one who wilfully lets the appearance-related side down.

To compound this catalogue of sack-able offences, I am not the slightest bit interested in designer clothes, handbags, vaginas or anything else which, to my mind, puts a label and loadsamoney way above common sense and comfort. I have one handbag. I do not do shoes for every occasion. Or coats! To me, spending more than I make from teaching in a month on an item of apparel or a pointless accessory is daft.

I am also not in vogue when it comes to bodily hirsuteness – and would rather have root canal treatment without anaesthetic than have some bugger, no matter how well-trained, rooting about with wax and God alone knows what else in my hold! If I wanted to look like a pre-adolescent in the minge department, I would have been a bit more fanatical about dieting myself into perpetual childhood when I was eleven or so.

We say the word ‘fat’ with much the same dread and disgust as we say, for example ‘paedophile’ or ‘axe-murderer’. Spare flesh is regarded as abnormal, revolting, a sign of gorging in lonely bedsits with only a cat for company and the shopping programmes on the telly all day long. It is, in many people’s mind, right up there with moral turpitude and a one-way ticket to Hell.

I am FAT. FAT. And I am not ashamed. Because there is nothing to be ashamed about. I do not have a waist men could encircle with both hands – but why would I want to have one? I am a woman, not an egg-timer!

I have, in the past, been down the whole diet, laxatives, binge road – when I was size 12! Ridiculous! I damaged myself for a size which, in any sensible person’s head, is on the slimmer side of things.

In truth, our size, our fat quotient, has no automatic connection to our levels of happiness, aliveness and well-being. It is society’s rigid expectations, and the comments of others (gleaned from the more cretinous articles in the glossies) which sting and draw blood and make us feel that we are abnormal, revolting and hideous.

I have been fat for most of my adult life. I have also been a nude model – and a locally successful one – at both a pottery class and a life drawing one. Beauty does not lie in a minute waistline or a perfectly flat stomach. You do not have to be eight stone or less to feel good about yourself as a person, as a woman. You do not have to beat yourself up because you wear size eighteen clothes.

I am FAT – and I am proud of who I am!

Acceptance and liberation!

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16 thoughts on “Acceptance: On being FAT: Facing the final taboo!

  1. Great article ! On an acceptance note…if my comment is accepted or not . Here is a small fill up the blank I did in 2011 and students came with following:
    F_T
    Fill in the blank and the choice are:
    1. A
    2. I
    Current State: FAT
    Roadmap: Transform A to I
    A is acceptance
    B is Brave
    C is Confident
    D is Dream
    E is Exercise
    F is Fast
    G is Game
    H is Happy
    I is Integrity

    Out come is FIT

    Liked by 1 person

    1. If you accept something, then you do not need to transform it into something else; that is the whole point of acceptance. I understand all the drive for fitness and health – and agree that they are very important – but I think it possible to be both fit and to carry flesh of a quantity that is deemed unacceptable by some. In other words slim does not equal fit any more that fat equals lazy and unfit! I also think there is a widespread belief that those who are fat, or plump, lounge around on the sofa eating all day and are totally inactive. In my case, this is not so. The whole point of my post was to make the point that there is nothing fundamentally wrong with carrying a bit of extra flesh – and to suggest, or imply., that this fanatical need to exercise all the time can become just as deep an addiction as food, drink or other known addictive materials! I have, in the past, run the Bath Half Marathon and walk the dog twice a day now, up hill much of the time! The opposite of the word ‘fit’ is ‘unfit’, not ‘fat’! Thanks for commenting!

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    1. Thanks, John. I think it is a common misconception that being above average in weight means that one is unfit or wilfully putting one’s health at risk. My father, who died ten years ago this June, was a fifty years’ duration insulin-dependent diabetic, so I know how important sensible eating and exercise both are. x

      Liked by 1 person

  2. David Greenway, Town Crier of Glastonbury and Honorary Bard of Avalon......and daytime wizard!

    Agree with every word!
    from your fat friend! xx

    P.S. We are just short for our weight!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Amen! My girlfriend is on the heavier side, but I hold no standards of “thin = beautiful.” Though several of my platonic female friends might be thinner and/or “more attractive” to the untrained eye, I feel that personal chemistry is much more important than looks.

    Being heavy is not inherently a problem, unless it is comorbid with significant physical or mental health problems. But to tell between the chicken and the egg…

    I like your admission of being a nude model—it shows that they need not be the “Playboy bunny” body-types.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Absolutely spot-on comment in every respect, Noah. Wonderful. I agree with every point. Very true on the nude modelling front; in fact, many people said that they found a model of my tonnage and poundage far more interesting to sculpt or paint. xxx

      Liked by 1 person

  4. FAT is not the person inside the body. I’ve been all grades of fat, never thin, and my excuse apart from loving my food is that I am probably two feet too short in ratio to my heaviest weight. I am still a big girl, even though I have shed almost three stone in less than a year. The official charts are a joke. Height says I should weigh around 9 and a half stone. I haven’t been that light since I was a junior school. They’ve already realised that the BMI caclulation is the same for muscle and fat, so totally useless. If you are happy with the weight you are/or how you look having kicked the scales into touch, good for you. People seem to like me, I like the person I am regardless of my weight and Hubby LOVES the person I am. That’s what matters.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Yes I must say you looked good the last time we met! It’s always nice to be oneself and immune to the dictatorial pressure from social ‘norms’. We should all be ourselves and proud, even when the pressure to conform bids us otherwise…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks, Ted. We should indeed. Apart from anything else, this constant obsession with the so-called perfect weight is having a bloody awful effect upon the younger generation – as I witnessed on all too many occasions when I was a full time teacher and Deputy Head of House. xxx

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  6. So am I, but not proud of it. Not to say I am guilty of self importance or any of the things you mention, but need to be a bit lighter for the good of my health. If I were in perfect health, I wouldn’t care what I looked like, within reason of course. (I do have a very small piece of vanity left, I think!)
    Basically, being happy in your skin is all we should ever want, isn’t it?

    Liked by 1 person

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