A Fat Girl Lives Here
She wears size 8 clothes and pretends to look like everyone else, but deep down inside me somewhere, a fat girl lives on. I love the fat girl in me because she's saved my life many times. I spent my youth fat instead of drunk or high. OK, maybe it was a carbohydrate high, and maybe afterwards there was self-loathing and disgust, but my liver survived along with most of my brain cells.
Somehow I thought that after surgery the fat girl would disappear along with the pounds. I was so surprised to find her still here. 20, 40, 60 pounds gone and there she was, still looking at me in the mirror. 100 pounds gone and she still glanced back at me as I walked past department store windows. 130 pounds are gone now, but she lingers on, larger than life and ever-present.
I embrace the fat girl. Remembering the fat girl makes me talk about my problems and confront them instead of eating a bag of chips. Thinking about the fat girl makes me get up and walk the dog. Catching a glimpse of the fat girl in a restaurant window reminds me to put down my fork. I hope the fat girl sticks around for a long, long time.
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I felt compelled to write the previous paragraphs to someone here in Arizona who was saying that she wishes she could forget that she was ever fat. I don't regret being fat. It was what it was. Am I alone in that? How do you guys feel about it?
Hugs,
Connie
Connie,
I was 3/4 the way through a very detailed explaination of who I was prior, how I got to weigh 500 pounds, and who I am now. I don't like to see pictures, but I don't want to forget who I was at 500 pounds. Only because those who stayed with me then are the real friends. Not the ones who didn't have time for me but now want to talk with me because I'm "normal".
Keep at it Connie, and thanks for keeping this place going.
Great topic. I am so conflicted about this; on the one hand, I never want to lose the connection with that 360 lb. woman that I was, but the more time that passes, the less I am able to feel what it felt like to live in that body. I want to remember how I smelled; how the very act of heaving myself from a chair or my bed left me breathless and sweating profusely. I know I must have been in terrible pain all of the time - physical pain from heaving that body up and planting it squarely over my knees, ankles, feet, with the unreaslistic expectation that I would stay standing, let alone be able to propel my massive body forward. I know the emotional pain was equally as debilitating but somehow it has all become rather fuzzy. It's a phenomena - our ability to shelve pain of any kind, no matter how devestating, so that we can continue living. I remember that the pain I was in upon waking up from WLS left me sobbing these words to my husband: "Oh God, what have I done?" But I can no longer summon the sensation of that pain. On the other hand, there are times when I feel every bit as large as I ever was, I am absolutely convinced of it. At my daughter's graduation party, for instance, I felt huge, as if I had gained it all back - despite Jillian's friends (whom I have known for years) coming up to me, throwing their arms around me and saying, "You're so tiny!" I recently stopped in a store at the Mall that was hawking the Sleep Number bed - you know, the one that Lindsey Wagner represents on the tv infomercial. I lay down on the bed, and the saleman immediately went into his pitch - starting with an explanation of how the actual "number" is derived -- body weight. I tensed up and froze with dread and what his next words were sure to be -- something like, "You're size means that they haven't developed a "number" that high for the bed yet..." I literally stopped breathing, and heard him say, "Your sleep number is 35. This is because you are quite small and so you don't have much weight on the bed at all. I looked at him thinking he must be talking to some other customer. He was looking right at me. I said, 'You're kidding, right? I bet you say that to every woman that walks in here - what a great way to sell a bed!" He argued his point and demonstrated how the numbers work depending on body size. He lastly said, "Your sleep number is 35; that's Lindsey Wagner's number as well. You are about the same size." I left that store in stunned disbelief - the same way I left the airplane when I flew 3 months ago - stunned at how much room was in the seat; stunned that I didn't need that extension and, in fact, had to pull up lots of slack from the belt; stunned that there was plenty of room between my belly and the snack table when I dropped it in place. Living this way is confusing and I am the kind of person that needs to make sense of it all, which is not coming easily to me these days. The bottom line is we just need to learn to LIVE. Happy, engaged, fulfilled lives - for ourselves first, so that we can give of ourselves to others. Stay vigilent, friends. Love, M.
I do not want to foget the person I was when I was fat....and I hope that it has made me a better person today. I have found I have a lot of family members who no longer talk to me and someone finally pointed out....you are happy now....they are not. They are jealous of your accomplishments that past few years. And I really think they are right. But I remember how hard it was to get here. I remember the times I was the wall flower.....As I go about my daily task and see people who are extremly over weight, I have empathy for them. I want to put my arms around them and tell them to keep fighting...there is hope; but the will has to be there as well.
Hi Connie,
Wow!! Awesome post!! I'm over here lurking around, because my June 2004 board, is always so dead, nothin' happening, ever...Anyway, great post!
I too, never want to forget the fat girl. And I don't think I could, if I wanted to. I see myself as thin, (finally!) but like you say, the fat girl is always still in there. Always in my thoughts....
You have written precisely how I feel about her. My addiction growing up was food, not alcohol like my brother and sister. Yes, she did save my life, as you said. As my brother and sister are both passed away now and I am still here. You have really touched me, with what you have written. It is all so true and really brings on some deep thought about our journey to be thin, live thin and most of all be happy!
It's amazing just how far we all have come!! Have a great evening!
Lyn
Hi Lyn, and WELCOME! This is the greatest Board at OH.com, I am certain of it. We're not just virtual friends, we're family -- and very happy to have you join us. I'm so glad Connie's post inspired you to reply - none better than Connie to do that for any of us! Don't be a stranger - tell us how things are with you in your new normal-sized life. Take care, Maureen
I still am the fat person. I still worry that people are staring and thinking how big I am. I still see spaces that I need to go through in crowds that I think oh no I'll not make it I'll have to bump into those people and they will give me the dirty looks or move away like the fat is contagious. i'm always surprised when I make it through with plenty of space in between.
Then again I'm also the thin person who doesn't even think anymore about going upstairs. Who takes the stairs at Chrystal Mall instead of the escalators. I'm the one who walks past the Lane Bryant windows and thinks gee why didn't they have that style when I was heavy? Anyone else notice that all the cute clothes are for heavy people now? I'm also the one who LOVES that I can now buy tiny sexing things in Victory Secrets!!!!!! I LOVE carrying the cute little pink bags around swinging from my wrist! hehehe
I dont'know if I'll ever totally lose the thought I have of being fat. Maybe its a good thing to keep that thought and to keep the fear of becoming fat again. I dont know. But I know right now I'm healthier than I've ever been and I do believe I have added good quality years to my life.
I dont' want to forget who I was becasue thats what has made me what I've become.
Pammie, I was shopping with Jillian this past weekend and we ended up in a store where the normal sizes were on one side, and the plus sizes on the other. We walked through the plus sizes to get to the shoes, and I said, "They never had clothes that looked like this when I was fat!" -- they were goregous! At least I know that if I ever gain the weight back, I'll be a better dresser! Hugs, M.
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