Lessons from a Fat Guy

Today my friend Meghan and I called to order a meeting of the Fat Guys Club. Our agenda; finishing the last of the chocolate peanut butter pie (in my defense it was low fat and low sugar) I made and brought in Tuesday for work. It was glorious. We laughed and enjoyed our mid-morning snack; pie. Meghan and I spend about 85 percent of our time in laughter. A majority of said laughter surrounds our discussion of our inner Fat Guys.




Our inner Fat Guys are like an old friend; completing our two-some into a four-some. They provide us with moments of guilt-free pleasure; almost decompartmentalizing our cravings. It’s as if we have Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), better known as Multiple Personality Disorder. Our inner Fat Guy sneaks out and finishes off the last of the work pie leaving us with no memory of it happening.



It feels easier, at times, to refer to my cravings or laziness being the work of someone else; my inner Fat Guy. Although, I can’t blame him for everything. After all I am that Fat Guy I speak of! It’s my hand that holds the fork shoveling in the piece of pie. It’s my eyes that grow large at the mere mention of chocolate. It’s my fingers pushing the TV remote buttons. It’s my butt resting comfortable on my cushy couch. I am that Fat Guy.



I am that Fat Guy, I speak of! I was thinking very deeply about myself as that Fat Guy after my Yoga workout today. I went for a quick twenty minute power walk to regroup and think more about my inner Fat Guy; me. As the sun warmed my bare shoulders (the joys of toning my body and losing 83lbs is how comfortable I feel in tank tops these days. Bring on the 90 degree weather! I am ready.) I thought about my Fat Guy. What have I learned from my Fat Guy? I do a lot of blaming of my Fat Guy, but does he provide me with insight on who I am? Did my years trapped in his skin teach me anything about the world I dance in?



Rather simply, “Yes.” Being that Fat Guy has made me who I am today; each lesson a different ray of sunshine causing my petals to grow towards the sky. Being Fat helped me be Melissa. Perhaps, the most important lesson I learned was to laugh at myself. Growing up heavy afforded me many an opportunity to learn not to take things so seriously. With the embarrassing moments and countless taunts from narrow-minded tubby-haters one has to learn to laugh. Laughter is the best medicine. Yes, it’s a defense mechanism, but it is also a great coping strategy.



For example, when I was in high school my over 200 pound frame jumped on my bed; it’s frame collapsing from the force of my weight thrusting on it. My friend Jenny from high school was sitting at the opposite end, her 130lb figure rose above me. I single-handedly (oh single-buttedly) turned my bed into a see-saw. The image of Jenny’s mouth dropping to the floor in shock of what just occurred was all I could see. I could have cried. I could have yelled. I could have jumped off my broke down bed, causing Jenny to fall to the floor, as I ran out in embarrassment. Instead I broke out into laughter saying, “Don’t tell anyone!” I owned the embarrassment. I embraced it. I laughed. For days later the memory of my bed breaking beneath my butt caused my lips to curve upwards. Let’s face it, it was funny. It was embarrassing, but funny. If I didn’t find the humor in what life brought me as a Fat Guy I would be a weepy Fat Guy. It wasn’t less tragic that a 16-year-old, weighing over 200lbs, broke her bed, but allowed me to cope with it all. It’s helped me learn to handle tough, unpleasant, or embarrassing situations better. It was like when kids picked on me in high school and called me “Bus with Windows.” It didn’t make it less painful, but if I allowed it to consume me then they won. By not learning to cope through laughter or whatever strategy saw me through, I allowed the negative comments or situations to hold power over me. If I had never learned this lesson and took control of how I dealt with these situations, even when losing the weight I would still be powerless. It would just be different situations and comments that would bring me down.



This was not my only lesson from being fat. I learned how to treat others through how they treated me. Being fat feels like an open invitation for judgment; that waitress that sneers when you order desert, the boy you like tell you if you only lost weight you’d be a great girlfriend, the classmate that picks you last in PE assuming you can’t cut the mustard, your grandmother telling you that you would be prettier if you lost weight…etc. We have countless examples of how others treat you, when you're fat. There treatment of me allowed me to evaluate how I wanted to be treated and how I should treat others. I hated when people told me I had a pretty face, but… I loathed the boys that judge me solely based on my waist-line. I wanted to shove that piece of pie in that waitresses face (if it didn’t taste so good, I may have). It’s the golden rule; treat others how you wish to be treated. I wanted dignity. I wanted people to see me; rather than the plump cheeks and rolling hills of my waist. As a result I try to treat people like that. I try. I am far from perfect and have made a fat joke or two at someone’s expense. It’s hard, when you grow up in a culture that completely condones hating fat. I don’t hate fat. That would mean I would hate myself. Isn’t that rather counterproductive? If being fat has taught me anything it’s to love myself. The love from others always felt conditional on my weight. I could never put those conditions on myself. So, being fat taught me to treat myself the way I wanted to be treated.



Today I convened my meeting of the Fat Guys Club and pay homage to my inner Fat Guy. My inner Fat Guy; myself. Today I remembered that he is me and has helped me grow into a Good Melissa. So, don’t look at being fat as a forgotten chapter in your life. Look for the lessons. Embrace it. Carry it with you, as I do each day with my inner Fat Guy on-board during my life journey.