I've been mulling over this post for some time now. Wondering if I could get my thoughts across clearly enough so as not to really offend anyone, wondering if I can truly get across what's in my head, clear and defined enough so as to not be too subject to the interpretation of the reader. The mere use of the word "fat" has connotations -- unless we're referring to someone as being "phat" we're pretty much implying that we think they either eat too much or don't take care of themselves or what have you. I can't think of one real positive way we use the word. It's no wonder fat people feel so unwelcome, so unwanted...everywhere we talk about "trimming the fat", "cutting fat out of your diet", "fat-free", etc.

Now try out the word "Obese." How about "Morbidly Obese?" Are you overweight? How do you view yourself? Have you ever had a doctor just look at you and say "I can't even address that problem yet, you've got too many other problems to work on. Let's talk about your weight."

How many diets have you been on? Why were you on them? Did you enjoy them? Who were you dieting for? Are you dieting now? Has any diet ever really worked? How long did it take you to gain back all the weight you lost? How much more do you weigh now than you did before you started the diet (and went off of it)?

According to my BMI (Body Mass Index) I was morbidly obese. Obese is extremely fat, or grossly overweight. Morbidly indicates that it is psychologically unhealthy, diseased, or unwholesome, so being morbidly obese would tell me that not only am I unhealthy physically, but most likely mentally, and if one were to stretch the point...I'd appear unwholesome to most people. Thus I have my own image problems.

I think health has a lot to do with how we feel about ourselves and the environment around us. While I don't believe what I am going to say is always true, I do think there is some truth to it. If you feel good about yourself, if you are happy about the world around you, there is a better chance you are healthy. Now, I think there are other factors. I think the food we eat, the stresses in our lives, and the way we deal with it also affect our health..so making a conscious choice to eat the right foods, to work through to eliminate or minimize daily stressors, these choices should have an impact on our general well-being.

Then there's genetics. Unfortunately we're all dealing with whatever good or bad genes we've been handed...and some have it worse than others. My Dad and I are (were) very different people, and yet we both were prone to depression and suffer(ed) certain social anxieties. How we dealt with it is probably one of the things that set us apart. Which brings me back to being obese, and how I felt about myself.

I was not comfortable in my skin when I weighed 291 pounds. My stomach stuck out in the front and on the sides and it weighed me down so much that my lower back was always in pain. But it wasn't just the physical discomfort. It's being a big man in a shirt and tie. A tight collar, clothes that are always coming untucked.... being hot all the time, and thus also sweating profusely all the time. I grew up with this, watching my Dad sweat in his suits, knowing he felt uncomfortable. Now here I was, feeling much the same as he must have, hating every minute of it. And yet I still hadn't grown to the proportions my father had. I was big, definitely in the top 98% in the weight category...but imagine adding yet another hundred or so pounds to my frame and you'd have my father. I am still obese, now 239 pounds, but categorically obese. But I am starting to feel more comfortable in my own body, I am starting to like it.

So why is it that some people are able to be comfortable in themselves regardless of what they weigh, why is it not an issue for them, and more importantly, why is it that because they are comfortable, because they are who they are, they become (or are) simply beautiful. I once had a teacher who told me that we see natural beauty, or what is aesthetically pleasing, as more appealing than artificial beauty. He used stereotypical models as an example. Let's refer to them as Ginger and Bertha, and let the connotations of the name alone describe them. His claim was that I would find Bertha to be the most appealing...more pleasant to behold than Ginger, because her beauty was natural, whereas Ginger's was an artificial construct created solely for drawing the attention of the male eye. I did not see, at the time, what he meant, being only 16 and too well aware of the attention of my classmates, but I have often long pondered his words and kept them to mind as I grew into myself.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Cliche, no doubt, but something I have come to understand. Beauty is in the laugh lines on a woman's face. Beauty is in her bold laughter, her intelligence, her shy smile. Beauty is in how she carries herself, be it hard earned confidence, or shy awkwardness. Beauty is in her bold nature, her willingness to show fear, her ability to be both strong and weak, and not be ashamed of being either. Beauty is a woman with child, or a woman who has carried several children, who has known laughter and love.

There is little true beauty to be found in silicone lips, anorexic hips, and skin browned, and dried to the texture of rough leather. In a nation where very few actually fit this image...this is what we call beautiful.

And yet there are beautiful people out there, people of all types, skinny, fat, average (whatever that is), obese -- all those who truly live, and through them, through their eyes, in knowing them, it helps me feel beautiful too.

But back to The Fat Girl.

I've known her now for a several years, but have only recently have I started taking my lunch in the same break room she does. Every day after my lunch I take a few minutes to enjoy whatever book I've managed to get my hands on. It is my nature to delve so deeply into the story that I can tune out almost anything. Once, in fourth grade, I looked up from my desk to see the entire class standing in a semi-circle in front of my desk. The bell had rung over five minutes previously and the teacher had requested the entire class stick around until I became aware of them. It was rather embarrassing but it accurately describes the ease in which I can lose myself in a good book.

Lately though, I find this sound creeping over the spine of the book and spilling down onto the pages until the words themselves become blurred and all I can hear is the constant chewing of very crisp carrots. This goes on for at least five to ten minutes before it finally subsides, and has been so constant that I have taken to watching her.

Here is a woman who is not comfortable in her skin. She wears the same clothes daily, big strech pants, a short sleeve shirt with no collar, usually striped. She is morbidly obese. I can say this, after all, because I know what it is to be morbidly obese. There is no happiness here. There is simply this woman, sitting alone (always alone) and eating carrots. And I wonder. I wonder if she actually is getting any pleasure from eating those carrots. I mean, I enjoy a carrot now and then (I even have some in the fridge which I fully intend to eat sometime soon.) But day in, day out, munch munch munch. And I wonder, does she skip breakfast? Does she sit there, eating those carrots as if to tell the world she's dieting, that at least she's trying. Munch munch munch. And then inevitably, every day, something else appears besides the carrots. Yesterday (metaphorically) it was the box of "good & plenty", the day before it was a bag of fritos. It's almost as if she were saying, "Well, I'm eating these carrots, that's healthy, so now it's okay to eat this junk" Munch munch munch. And I wonder again, did she skip breakfast, does she try to walk as much as possible, does she do more than this simple act, this ritual sacrifice of eating carrots for lunch. And then I wonder... what did it take for her to get where she is? What unhappiness is buried there that makes her so different from other people I know, or other people I work with, or myself for that matter. And I am angry, angry because I have fallen for the same trap she has...I have done the same thing. If I diet, if I take these pills, if only if only I do this...I will get skinny. And she is miserable, you can see it in how she carries herself, you can hear it in her voice, you can almost taste her unhappiness.

And I think then about Frances, another lady I work with, who's not quite as heavy as The Fat Girl, but who is no slender willow, and I look at the smile on her face, and the ease in which she carries herself, and I think sometimes I understand what my teacher meant about aesthetic beauty.

Okay... it's been harder getting back into gear.  I am still worn out from the UPS season.  I'm tired and working out doesn't have much appeal.  I can tell I've backslid a bit...so someone please kick me to help me get going again.  I'm less than 4 months from my 40th birthday and instead of only needing to lose 40 by then, now I'm back up to 50 lbs.  Why do I keep backsliding when the goal gets within sight?