My own shame

This week I read a few articles, saw a few memes, and have just been generally thinking about fat shaming lately. I have to admit, I rarely think too much about the general popular culture movements in fatness. I am too close to it, and have to deal with it on a daily basis, so I tend not to think too much about how it is portrayed in the world at large. I went through a phase when it consumed me pretty regularly. I had a tough time watching Friends' episodes where Courtney Cox donned a fat suit for an endless stream of fat jokes, and I could not even deal with Shallow Hal when it came out. This does not even go into Mike Myers Fat Bastard get-up, Ryan Reynolds in a fat suit for that Just Friends movie, or any other thing where "normal" sized people put on a fat suit to make fun of fat people. I have moved on from that sort of anger at the world. The Rock is going to be a in fat suit for bits and pieces of his big summer blockbuster this year, and it does not bother me, or at the very least, I realize getting angry about it does no one any good. Instead I focus on what I can do in my own creations to make fat people not the butt of the jokes, to portray them as complex beings with feelings. That is the best I can do.

But the fact remains, I struggle with the fat acceptance movement, and I almost never think about why. It feels anti-progressive to struggle to accept this movement, and the reality is, I do accept it, just not for myself. I have been battling with this for a few years, and I have maybe documented it slightly in this blog over the last few years, but never fully. I think it would be great if we got to a place where people who were fat were not made fun of for being fat. I think it is awesome that people out there are owning their bodies no matter the shape or size. It is probably super empowering. I just do not feel it. I do not accept my own fatness, because to accept it would be to accept how horribly unhealthy I have been for a majority of my life. It would be to accept the debilitating joint pain and back pain as a result of that fatness. It would be to accept the fact that climbing two flights of stairs leaves me gasping for air. I just cannot accept it. I cannot look at myself as I am now and say, "This is okay."

I understand my real issue is with my health, not my size, but my size has caused my health. The immense pressure I have put on my knees, my ankles, my feet from the sheer weight of my body, is why I have joint pain. When I lose weight, that joint pain is less agonizing. It is simple math, and while I have a strong distaste for math, it is impossible to ignore. How can I accept this? How can I be okay knowing that? Every day I have general panic that my future kids will end up like me, and that terrifies me. There is a part of me that is glad I have not accepted my body. I do not want to feel like it is okay. I want to change. I have been slowly changing for four years, too slowly, but slowly.

2016 has been a significant year for many reasons, but one of them was the dedication to living healthier, and in terms of food, I am probably doing the best job of my life. I am counting calories, eating much healthier, even when not at home, opting for salads at Sac State instead of Panda Express or Togo's. I have cut way back on sweets, cut back on the sweetener in my iced tea, and outside of a rough march, cut way back on alcohol. I should be losing more weight than I am. I should feel better than I do. The problem is, I sacrificed working out for a grad school program. Managing my life has gotten tricky. I am busier than I have ever been in my entire life. I thought teaching 2 classes, putting together PACT and performing in Titanic five years ago was the busiest I could possibly be, but I was wrong. I have placed a value on strengthening my mind, and strengthening my job prospects, over strengthening my body. I was great at it in January, and early February, but abandoned it.

I hate my body. Hate hate hate. Then I hate myself for hating it. I hate feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. I hate that I am always conscious of my arms showing my stretch marks. I hate worrying that any part of my belly flab might become visible while stretching, especially in a classroom of 30 teenagers. At the moment I hate the throbbing pain in my left knee that has been persistently present for six days now, but I never feel like I can talk about it because it my own fat fault that it hurts. There is no reason to see a doctor, because as my last two doctors told me, all of my issues likely stem from my obesity. No shit, homie.

This is how I feel for myself, by the way, not for anyone else. I do not want anyone to get the impression this is what I think anytime I see a fat person, because it is not. I am thrilled to see fat stories existing in the world today. I am excited that there are fat blogs, and fat fashion, and I am hopeful one day, we will see more fat stories in popular culture where being fat is not a punchline. At the same time, I do not ever want to get to a place where I feel too comfortable in my own fat experience, because it has made me horribly unhealthy, and I want that to change that, not accept it.

I also wish other people's empowerment empowered me. I follow sassy fat people on social media who are clearly comfortable in their own skin, and I always hope it will rub off on me, but every time I think, "it's my body, I should be happy with it" my next immediate thought is "but you ruined the one body you get."

Do not misunderstand me, Fat Shaming is disgusting and unhelpful, and of course, anyone doing the fat shaming is not trying to help any way. They can frame that shit however they want, but they are not trying to help, they are trying, and often times succeeding, at being assholes. No one should feel that they can comment on anyone's body just because. There is not a single fat person in the world who does not know they are fat, trust me.

I usually try to come to some resolution on these blogs, but I got nothing today, sorry.