I am a Fat Chick: Introducing Battle of the Bulge

I am fat. Yes, I am saying that out loud; well, technically in print. It’s something most women; most people, don’t admit to themselves let alone to others. It was something I never thought I would admit to myself. I still remember the day I finally looked in the mirror and said, “I am fat.” It was only eight months ago. Eight months ago I finally faced my real mirror image.


It was a mirror image I had avoided for twenty seven years. Mirrors were not my friends. Scales were not my friends. I avoided the scale like a plague. I only stepped on the scale during medical appointments, when I knew that the nurse and the doctor would shake their head as they lectured me on the need to lose weight. I would listen and smile. I would say, “Yes, you are right. I am trying.” Often I give this whole story of eating more salad and working out. I would leave the medical appointment in a new found desire to lose weight. Two weeks later I would find myself crunching into my favorite BBQ Pringles.

How did I get there? How did I get to weight 280 pounds at the age of twenty seven? I grew up fat. My mother; fat. My grandmother; fat. Some of my female cousins; fat. My aunts; fat. This isn’t a slam on them. It was my life; my family. I grew up in a family that was and is fat; therefore, I didn’t have to look in the mirror. Fat was all around me. It was what I grew up with. I grew up to be fat and fat I was. By the age of thirteen I weighed 200 pounds. At the age of twenty seven I weight 290 pounds. For someone my age and height I should weigh 140 pounds; therefore I weighed two of the ideal Melissa’s. Two!

How did I get to be two Melissa’s? Well, as I said before I grew up in a fat family. Food was everywhere; the good and the bad. A smidge of a piece of cake was twice the size someone would serve you in a coffee shop. A bowl of ice cream every night during the 8 o’clock television watching hour was typical. Spending a Saturday curled up in front of the television watching a Lifetime movie marathon was not rare. Going out as a family met eating, not going for a walk. Food and poor exercise habits were everywhere.

I have many memories of my grandmother, over 200 pounds herself, telling me that if I would only lose 50 pounds. If only. I can remember her sitting there kicked back in the lazy boy watching television, drinking a soda, and eating chips. She felt if I was thinner I would be happy. I would date. I would have more friends. I would be pretty. She used to say all the time, “You’re a pretty girl, but if only you would lose weight…” It’s a common phrase heard by chubby teenaged girls throughout the US.

However, my grandmother’s inspiring speeches did nothing to jump me into“get thin” frenzy. How could it? When everything I had been taught through growing up fat said otherwise. After all this was the same woman who would bring me home a chocolate bar from the grocery store, drive thru a fast food chain, or encourage me to order desert. Her heart was in the right place; however, she was fat. She taught me to be fat.  I sometimes have the fantasy of my grandmother finding a box of donuts under my bed in high school and shouting, "Where did you learn to do this?" (much like that anti-drug commercial from the 90's).  I would point, "I learned it from watching you!"

I think that’s the mirror image that we as Americans need to face. We are fat. We grew up in fat families. We were taught to be fat. Yes, there is scientific evidence that there is a “fat” gene. However, how much is nature and how much is nurture? I would argue, from an unproven standpoint, that nurture has a great deal to do with being fat. Look at your fat friends. Look at yourself. Notice how fat people’s families look. It isn’t just genetics, folks. It’s how families raise their children. There is a fat epidemic. Let’s look in the mirror and see the “real image.” We are fat. I am fat.

What does that mean? What does it mean to be a fat person? What is it like living as a fat person? A person in denial? A fat person that finally sees who they really are. A fat person that is leaving that identity behind? This is what I am going to explore in this blog. I hope you’ll take the journey with me. Mostly, I hope you discover your own journey as a fat person. This blog isn’t meant to be critical. It’s meant to be honest. Let’s start. I am a fat person.