TheBanyanTree: Fat Thoughts

[Maria Gibson]

It is quite coincidental that I was having fat thoughts whilst Monique
was having weight loss questions.  Indeed, there comes a time when the
weight loss is no longer funny and perhaps is even unfunny, nay
ANTIfunny to some.  It has come to my attention recently that I am no
longer fat.  Oh, I hung on to it, being fat.  I hung on for dear life
apparently and had to be convinced.  And I feel quite sure that I was
notfat, or at least not *as*....well, I'm rationalizing, again.  Anyhoo,
it was a consensus amongst friends and family that I'm no longer fat for
a way longer time than it has been apparent to me.  Which has been
exactly one day so far.  Please know that the next lines are
inconsequential and the mewlings of a newborn.  I have a whole new
childhood to grow into and it is going to be rife with growing pains.

I was on a weekend beach getaway with a group of gals from my office.
On Saturday I took a jog on the beach.  Not had it, not did it, just
took it.  Took it and ran away with it, as it were.  It was so
incredible.  About 65 degrees, brilliantly sunny, Tarheel blue skies.  I
had my radio and found a good rock station, my favorite relaxing music.
Amazing, really, that hard rock is soothing to me.  I don't know how far
I ran, although I could decribe it but it wouldn't make sense to you.
Suffice to say it was the farthest yet with less effort than usual.  I
finished up at the pier and, in what has become my signature, did not
slow my steps from a running gait until I had actually touched my goal.
I walked on for a time to catch my breath, just enjoying the music when
I saw a young girl who broke my heart.  She couldn't have been more than
12 or 13 and she was incredibly overweight.  My breath caught in my
throat and, try as I might, I could not stop the tears from flowing.  I
knew in an instant, a heartbeat, her every pain.  Her every wish, all
the names she is called behind her back and to her face.  I knew her
questions to herself in the dark of night and the way she felt on the
inside while she kept a painted smile on her face to the world.  I
thought I cried for her but then slowly began to realize I was crying
for me.  I knew every heartbreaking wretched step she took because I was
in her shoes.  She was me.  I just cried and cried.

As I walked along crying I noticed my shadow.  It was surreal in its
smallness, it was almost lithe like.  I was a torrent of emotions from
within and yet able to notice my shadow as a...slimmed down creature.
When I got back to the house I went in the bathroom and looked in the
full-length mirror.  I have some rolls which are mostly hidden by
clothing and I can obviously lose a little weight.  But.  I'm no longer
the fat girl I was.  In fact, with clothes on that fit properly, I look
pretty average.  Not skinny, not fat.

I am very, very confused.  I am embarrased and self-conscious.  I feel
like I've been caught doing something naughty because I was in denial of
looking different and I don't know who to try and explain myself to,
defend myself to.  I have left my home of fat but I am not a natural
citizen of notfat.  I feel that I have betrayed my family and they
sometimes are not happy with me for doing so.  I have a lot of issues
going on but it is hard to talk about them, it feels like what it must
be like to be friends with someone who won the lottery and is having a
hard time dealing with it.  The fat is no longer my friend and I don't
know what to do without it.  It was ok to keep losing weight while I
still had plenty of it left as my passport into the place I knew so well
but it seems I've been deported.  After really looking at myself in the
mirror for a good, long time I understand why my friends who are still
battling with what I've all but conquered are impatient when I try to
claim squatter's rights on the home turf.  I've been evicted.  My lease
ran out.  I passed go, got my two hundred dollars and now I don't know
what to do with it.  I am in a freakin' pickle.

I don't know how to act in my new country.  I was told yesterday that
when I say something to someone's wife, such as her husband wears great
cologne or that he is adorable, some may feel threatened.  I just looked
at her.  She tried to explain.  Threatened that another woman would say
these things about her husband.  I just looked at her.  She tried to
explain.  Threatened that a sexy woman would say these things about her
husband.  Well, finally, that explains it.  For all my flirtations and
bravado, I am not a sexy woman.  I don't see myself that way and so it
is really a far fetch for me to think someone else may see me that way.
But, maybe, my friend explains, some may see it that way.  When I
weighed roughly 300 pounds, no one saw it that way so I could pretty
much have my way with whatever came out of my mouth.  But now, in the
unfunny world of weight loss where you can *still* be judged by your
body...I could be a threat.  Well it is news to me.  So, I was a safe
before, to be flirtatious and brave and brazen.  I was safe because I
was ensconsed in my own suit of flesh armour and no one took any of my
flirtations seriously.  I was safe before but am not now because I
am...not ensconsed.  I am exposed and have sharp edges someone may cut
themselves on.  I have to...sex proof myself to be sure that I am not
misunderstood, apparently.  I am lost, I have not been found and I don't
have a map.  I don't know how to act here and, also apparently,
ignorance is no excuse for not following the law.  I was issued a
warning ticket.

What's not funny is that I often feel very alone.  Not lonely, but truly
alone, like the last person left.  I'm looking and looking, calling and
calling.  No one answers.  I think maybe no one can hear me.  Perhaps
they are there but I can't see them because I don't know how to see
myself.  I can't recognize them because I can't recognize myself.  Maybe
one day I'll begin to become familiar with my surroundings and become
recognizable to the natives.  Maybe I'll be adopted and take a new last
name so that when I meet people who never knew me from my days of solo
and then dual citizenships, they won't know I'm really a foreigner.
I'll learn the language and slowly lose my accent.  But like a blind man
who loses his sight as an adult, no matter how much I adapt, I fear I'll
still dream in only the colors I knew before my sight was lost.  Because
I don't know what the new colors are, I can't imagine them.

It's a mad, mad world, my friends.  I caution you with wholehearted
sincerity before partaking on a long and arduous journey.  Pack
carefully.  Look before you leap, don't accept any wooden nickels and
don't count your eggs before they hatch.  Be careful of your steps, be
mindful of your p's and q's and be careful what you wish for.

Maria