July 27, 2011
11. Newblog2011: 07/27/11 Fat People
As I’ve said before, being harassed sometimes brings out the worst in me. It’s certainly not polite or kind for me to say things such as "You're fat!"; however, none of the things that get directed at me are polite or kind, either.
Also, and most importantly; I don’t provoke the people who behave that way to behave that way. Sometimes, they can get me to do or say things that are on their level, that’s all.
I remember what it was like to be overweight. I had never been overweight before in my life, and then, all of a sudden, intermittently from 18 to 20 but constantly from 20 to 23, I was carrying around 30 to 50 pounds of extra weight all the time.
All of that weight gain was caused by psychiatric medications. I couldn’t lose the weight no matter what I did; diet and exercise didn’t work.
It took me a while to figure out that things that you learn how to do as a thin girl are socially verboten for girls who aren’t thin; at least, that’s the way it was when I was 20 and in college. You have to unlearn the things that you said and did that guys thought “were so cute” when you were thin because they don’t think those things are cute when you’re fat.
When I was overweight, I didn’t consciously think about all the little things that I had never known were different for fat people vs. for thin people. What I do remember is the day, after having been an overweight college student for three years, that I walked into the student center and saw three, beautiful, thin college women walking toward me. They looked like what I had always thought I would look like when I got to college, before I’d ever been in the hospital and been given a stigmatized identity that revolved around supposedly having a mental illness, and before I’d ever been pressured into taking medication that made me gain all the weight.
I felt something I’d never felt before, that I didn’t try to feel and wouldn’t have chosen to feel: the only word to describe it is “murderous.”
I only felt that way for a few seconds, and even then, I didn’t think about what was happening in my life that had led to my feeling that way except to be surprised at the feeling.
About a year later, I had stopped taking all the medication and was thin again. I hadn’t been back to being thin for very long when, one day, I was walking toward the door of a public place. A man was in front of me, going toward the same door. He opened the door, looked back at me for a second, and then he got a big smile on his face and went out of his way to hold the door for me.
He surprised me when he did that, and it was only a few days later that it hit me that he had only done it because I was thin and he thought I was pretty. I realized that I had spent somewhere between 3 and 5 years without being given considerations as small as people holding the door for me when they had gotten to the door first. How much effort does it take to hold a door open for someone? None at all, and that's how much consideration you get when you're fat; you get none at all.
That was something I’d never known anything about or would have believed when I was young and had always been thin; I never would have believed a fat person who told me something such as:
“People don’t even bother to say “please” or “thank you.” They treat me like I’m not there, unless they’re making jokes about how fat I am. It’s not even a question of people asking me out or not; I get treated as if I’m not a person, or am a bad person, or am disgusting, or as if I need constant advice about how to lose weight that I never asked for. You have no idea what my life is like.”
When I lose my temper and say “so and so mistreated me because he or she is fat,” it’s because I’ve lost my temper because somebody mistreated me because he or she was being a jerk. Fat people can be jerks; anyone can be a jerk. The point is, in those moments, when I am too tired or overwhelmed or have already been harassed too much by then to handle the situation the way that I would prefer to, what I want to do is get to the person, because that’s what the person wanted to do to me.
I can’t begin to count how many people to whom I have never been anything but nice have mistreated me as a result of what’s happened. That's not even including all the strangers who mistreat me; those are people whom I've never met at all, who sit across from me at computer terminals and rub their noses for hours or who cough at me from across the street and 100 yards away.
I don't understand how anyone can get enjoyment out of trying to bully a total stranger, let alone someone who has consistently tried to be nice to him or her.
11. Newblog2011: 07/27/11 Fat People
Copyright L. Kochman July 27, 2011 @ 6:33 p.m.
11. Newblog2011: 07/27/11 Fat People
As I’ve said before, being harassed sometimes brings out the worst in me. It’s certainly not polite or kind for me to say things such as "You're fat!"; however, none of the things that get directed at me are polite or kind, either.
Also, and most importantly; I don’t provoke the people who behave that way to behave that way. Sometimes, they can get me to do or say things that are on their level, that’s all.
I remember what it was like to be overweight. I had never been overweight before in my life, and then, all of a sudden, intermittently from 18 to 20 but constantly from 20 to 23, I was carrying around 30 to 50 pounds of extra weight all the time.
All of that weight gain was caused by psychiatric medications. I couldn’t lose the weight no matter what I did; diet and exercise didn’t work.
It took me a while to figure out that things that you learn how to do as a thin girl are socially verboten for girls who aren’t thin; at least, that’s the way it was when I was 20 and in college. You have to unlearn the things that you said and did that guys thought “were so cute” when you were thin because they don’t think those things are cute when you’re fat.
When I was overweight, I didn’t consciously think about all the little things that I had never known were different for fat people vs. for thin people. What I do remember is the day, after having been an overweight college student for three years, that I walked into the student center and saw three, beautiful, thin college women walking toward me. They looked like what I had always thought I would look like when I got to college, before I’d ever been in the hospital and been given a stigmatized identity that revolved around supposedly having a mental illness, and before I’d ever been pressured into taking medication that made me gain all the weight.
I felt something I’d never felt before, that I didn’t try to feel and wouldn’t have chosen to feel: the only word to describe it is “murderous.”
I only felt that way for a few seconds, and even then, I didn’t think about what was happening in my life that had led to my feeling that way except to be surprised at the feeling.
About a year later, I had stopped taking all the medication and was thin again. I hadn’t been back to being thin for very long when, one day, I was walking toward the door of a public place. A man was in front of me, going toward the same door. He opened the door, looked back at me for a second, and then he got a big smile on his face and went out of his way to hold the door for me.
He surprised me when he did that, and it was only a few days later that it hit me that he had only done it because I was thin and he thought I was pretty. I realized that I had spent somewhere between 3 and 5 years without being given considerations as small as people holding the door for me when they had gotten to the door first. How much effort does it take to hold a door open for someone? None at all, and that's how much consideration you get when you're fat; you get none at all.
That was something I’d never known anything about or would have believed when I was young and had always been thin; I never would have believed a fat person who told me something such as:
“People don’t even bother to say “please” or “thank you.” They treat me like I’m not there, unless they’re making jokes about how fat I am. It’s not even a question of people asking me out or not; I get treated as if I’m not a person, or am a bad person, or am disgusting, or as if I need constant advice about how to lose weight that I never asked for. You have no idea what my life is like.”
When I lose my temper and say “so and so mistreated me because he or she is fat,” it’s because I’ve lost my temper because somebody mistreated me because he or she was being a jerk. Fat people can be jerks; anyone can be a jerk. The point is, in those moments, when I am too tired or overwhelmed or have already been harassed too much by then to handle the situation the way that I would prefer to, what I want to do is get to the person, because that’s what the person wanted to do to me.
I can’t begin to count how many people to whom I have never been anything but nice have mistreated me as a result of what’s happened. That's not even including all the strangers who mistreat me; those are people whom I've never met at all, who sit across from me at computer terminals and rub their noses for hours or who cough at me from across the street and 100 yards away.
I don't understand how anyone can get enjoyment out of trying to bully a total stranger, let alone someone who has consistently tried to be nice to him or her.
11. Newblog2011: 07/27/11 Fat People
Copyright L. Kochman July 27, 2011 @ 6:33 p.m.