The Weight of Being Fat

Growing up fat

A seemingly harmless game played by seventh graders left a lifelong scar. Twelve years later, the pain is still fresh. The rules were simple: Come up with new language that would be characteristic to our group. My friend Kim topped the charts that day with "lard tub." No references were made to me personally, but the laughter and repeated use of the new label made me want to climb under the table and cry.

I started Weight Watchers that year. At 13, I stuck out sorely among the 30- and 40-year-old women who met each week. Hours before Weight Watchers meetings, I would frantically exercise, taking breaks only to check and see if I'd jumped, run, melted or simply wished away the fat that covered my body. Meetings were humiliating. My mom attended, but somehow that didn't help. Why couldn't I just be normal?

Weighing 147 lbs and snuggly donning a junior's size13, I wasn't much heavier than other girls my age. But I hated comparing myself with my thin, beautifully developing friends. Swimsuits and pool parties, playing volleyball in PE and being forced to wear plus-sized clothes that defined "out of style" contributed to a poor self-image. Dieting had its own set of annoyances, forcing me to lie about food choices around my peers or cheat by overeating. I precariously balanced wanting my friends to deem me normal and hoping they would feel my need for acceptance.

Weight Watchers was merely the launching point for years of dieting. Failure led me to Jenny Craig, Slimfast, 3-day diets and hospital programs for obese children. Finally desperation drove me to the quick fix fad of diet pills. Through it all one thing remained consistent: I hated my body. More than that, I began hating me.

And I grew up hating myself.

Harsh realizations

The diet pills worked as a temporary fix. Entering college, I was 35 pounds lighter and uncharacteristically happy. Even though I still wore a size 12, I was proud. I didn't remember ever being a 12 before somehow I had skipped from children's clothes straight to plus-sizes.

But the freshman 15 caught me. Only, it multiplied by 4. For me, it was the freshman 60. Late night pizza, Sonic runs for milkshakes and consistent alcohol intake quickly added pounds and generated even more self-loathing. By the end of the year, I weighed well over 200 pounds and began to realize that my eating and weight were out of control. In all the years I'd struggled with my weight, I'd joked about being fat, but I'm not sure I ever believed it and accepted it until now. One day, alone in my dorm, I looked in the mirror and sobbed out, "You ugly fat beast."

I lived in the despair of those words for years.

My dieting behaviors escalated to extreme measures, and some days, I even wished I could be bulimic. I didn't believe eating disorders were glorious, I just wanted a quick fix to my problems. Thankfully, I never found myself at that extreme.

I did, however, have plastic surgery in an attempt to change my body. I thought it would bring me happiness, but afterward, I still searched frantically for something more.

Well into my 20s, I began to realize that people were still enjoying me despite my size. It helped that I had a guy friend who spent lots of time with me, and even though he was never openly attracted to me, he didn't seem repulsed.

So I thought.

Searing words

One night Brian and I had a conversation about marriage. We weren't seriously considering it, just theoretically discussing our options. He said to me, €œI couldn't ever marry you. € When I asked why, he wiggled around, then responded, €œI'm not attracted to you. € A bit shocked, and always the glutton for punishment, I pushed him until he finally admitted, he wasn't attracted to €œlarger girls. €

But thankfully another guy taught me a much more positive lesson about how men see me.

We were riding in the car, not too long after Brian had mutilated my self-esteem. In deep conversation, Curt revealed, €œI'm praying that God gives me new eyes to see people's good qualities and worth, instead of what they look like on the outside. € I rolled my eyes but didn't comment.

Months later, Curt proved his sincerity.

Healing

I was making a fat joke. It was an easy way to deal with the pain, and after all these years, I was good at it. Self-deprecation was a way to deal with my insecurity. In the middle of a mean comment about myself, Curt blurted out, €œI wish you wouldn't say things like that about yourself. You're so much more than that. € He followed, under his breath, with words that have become a treasured memory, €œYou're beautiful. €

That wasn't the only turning point in my battle with the bulges, but I believe God used Curt to teach me a lesson about self-worth.

Curt's words exposed a very tender, hurting person who craved love, not judgment and ridicule. God had been offering me that unconditional love my whole life, but I'd given more weight to my body size than to His view of me. I feared He was either angry at me for making His creation (my body) so ugly, and refused to accept that God could love me regardless of how I looked.

Curt's way of seeing me catapulted me to explore how God sees me. Reading the Bible was foundational in beginning to accept myself.

Luke 12:23-24: Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!

I Samuel 16:7: But the LORD said to Samuel, "Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart."

I'll let you in on a little secret: I still struggle with my weight. I'm still not the world's version of beautiful. But God, and special people like Curt, helped me turn my focus on the good things about who I am. Now when I diet, it's more for health reasons than to lose weight. I don't want to binge out of desperation. I don't lie to myself when I look in the mirror, but I also try not to curse my extra flab every time.

I finally found what I'd been searching for: God's love and the courage to accept myself just as I am.

Background Information

Questions and Answers

Stories

If you've been through a experience related to this topic, we invite you to share your story with others.
Share Your Story

Other Things to Consider

Transitions: Changing Jobs, Moving

Relationships: Communication Gaps

Parenting Teens: Communication Problems