Each time I say something I regret...

When I was just shy of 19, I got my first job in a call center that outside of food service seemed to be the only acceptable job a fat person could have. Perhaps it was the same idea that I have a face for radio? Society decided, lets hide them in cubicles or sweatshop like spaces and handle phone call after phone call. They (fat people) can be productive but out of sight. But, I digress. 

When I think back on my slow process from chubby over weight kid to “morbidly obese” teen I can say that it happened slowly. One day I was maintaining a size and 3-5 years later, I was moving up in size. By the time I was 19,  I was already in what is now considered a large fat bordering the line of crossing over from a size 32. I was already too fat for most plus sized clothing available. I was already part of the “here’s a tent” club. I was in a new place, with no friends yet and feeling the own weight of own feelings of being a troublesome burden to my family. I strongly believe and know now that projection is a hell of a thing. And there is truth behind the saying that “no mentally heathy and happy person goes out of their way to spew hate to a complete stranger.” 

Anytime I think about what I am doing as a fat activist and why its necessary, I think about a woman, whose name I cannot recall because I had already deemed her unworthy of a name. Unworthy of feelings and emotions. But what was her crime? 

She was a short and extremely overweight woman whose stomach hung past her upper thighs and when she sat, her belly would rest against her knees. She wore polyester pants, and a similar fabric shirt with some floral pattern that some how matched the pants. Pants that were not breathable and thus a breeding ground of odors.  I remember she was quiet, with short white hair, stubby fingers and arms but a soft soothing voice. I would steal glances with disgust as I smugly believed I was superior to her.  I’m fat, but I’m not that fat I would think. 

The truth is, I wasn't that far off from her and maybe that was the real anger and disgust I had for her? I wish I had been a better person then. I wish I had actually had the foresight and idea to know that we don't all just “do this to ourselves.” And even if we have, we still don't deserve the same kind of hatred that I would steal glances at her with.   The same hatred and vitriol that people throw at me.  

“If I EVER get that fat, I want you to kill me.” I would say to each of my friends as I laughed on the phone after multiple work days. 

Well, here I am. I’m THAT fat. The only difference between her and I at this point, is I avoid polyester at all costs, I’m tall and my hair is long.   

I have thought about this time in my life over and over. Swirling the words around in my mind. You are a fraud of a human, I tell myself.  I wish that the body positivity and body neutrality space had been something I had found then. I wish that I had not had deeply rooted hatred for fat bodies. 

How can I spout the ideas that all bodies deserve dignity and respect when I couldn't afford it to this woman. And you know she is not the only one who was a target of my own fat phobia, how can I demand it of others?  I’m fat, but at least I’m not THAT fat. These words sting just to write them. 

Am I writing all of this simply to say, its not fair, I’m not her! Me. Me. Me. No, I’m writing this to acknowledge the pain that I could have caused because even when they are just whispers of hatred, they still can be heard, felt and seen by the targets of them. 

I want to be a better person than I was 17 years ago, 5 years ago, 2 months or even yesterday. I see the darkness, I see the mistakes I have made and I want to acknowledge them, sit with the uncomfortable information and then be and do better.  That’s all anyone can do. That’s what all should strive for. I also want to apologize openly and publicly. 

I am deeply sorry and you deserved more than that.