Body Fascists

‘m getting fed up of being told that my body size, whatever it is, is, depending on who’s speaking to me, too large or too small.

It’s difficult enough being bombarded everyday with news programmes portraying overweight people as freaks and something to be pitied or ridiculed or pointed-at-and-laughed-at with having large people telling me that I’m ‘letting the side down’ by losing weight.

Yeah, you heard that right.

Two larger people that I’m good friends had a go at me yesterday for losing weight as I was ‘succumbing to the norm’ by getting on the ‘dieting treadmill’. Somehow I was opting into some sort of ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ pod people sort of affair and working my way towards some sort of superior being status . . .

Now I do believe that weight is a personal issue. Body image, body size and how you perceive yourself is prime to weight loss or weight gain, yes?

And you know what? I’ve hated my body for the last 15 years. *I* have. I have suffered appalling bouts of self-loathing purely because I feel fat; because I *am* fat.

I’ve convinced myself it’s okay for me to be overweight, and it is.

But.

I am not happy with my body. I’ve been in a downward spiral of self-loathing and comfort eating for 15 years and I’ve had enough.

I haven’t buckled because of thin-ist propaganda, nor have I had enough of the camaraderie of the plump. I’m just not happy being this weight; I”m fed up of huffing and puffing up the hill to work; I’m fed up of the weight that I am causing painful knees, back and hips.

Now my friends are happy being large. Good for them. I’m not. 
That should be “good for me” from them.
Funny that it isn’t.
I;m not doing this to make them feel bad; I”m not doing it to make myself feel superior to them. I’m doing it because I don’t want to be like this anymore.

Then of course, this afternoon, after going to see a movie with my partner (Wrath of the Titans. Okay but not earth shattering) I’m harangued by a dick head in tee-shirt and shorts who loudly proclaims “Oi Fatty, you look like you could lose some weight, why not join our gym?” and gives me a leaflet. I give it back to him and he just abuses me with taunts along the lines of “You’ll never look good if you don’t do some exercise”. I respond by shouting ‘at least I can still lose weight, but as far as I’m aware personality transplants are a long way off”. At which point, he launches towards me with what looks to be utter hate. as he reaches out to grab me, my lovely partner, who is a kung fu instructor, grabs his are and throws him to the floor.

The Security Guards have watched all of this, move me and Andy to one side, grab the idiot and remove him from the shopping centre.

The security people contact the gym, which is built in to the centre, and a representative comes to talk to us in the security suite. After watching the cctv and listening to the security people, the representative use shakes her head and says “he’s gone”.

She offers me a free year’s gym membership. Unfortunately, we weren’t in our own town and so getting to the gym would be a total pain in the bum. 

So, this weekend I’ve been harangued for losing weight and harangued and attacked for being fat.

Walking between two worlds, both idiotic, has been tiring.

But the good thing is, despite all the weirdness, *MY* opinion hasn’t changed at all.
*I’m* still not happy with the way I look, so *I* am doing something about it in the way *I* see fit. I’m not bowing to peer pressure, I’m being me and my god for the first time in 15 years, I’m *ENJOYING* being me!

And I’m looking forward to seeing much less of me in future 😉

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s