I am fat. Let’s get that out of the way first. At least 60-70 pounds over what would be considered my “ideal weight”. Probably more, but I don’t own a scale.
I don’t love this about myself, but it’s part of my story. It has been, to varying degrees, all of my adult life.
Yes, there are reasons why I am fat. Maybe it’s thyroid related. Maybe it’s trauma related. Maybe it’s far too much self-soothing with food. Maybe it’s the way I always found it easier to value my brain over my body. Maybe it’s the religious shame that told me my body is a sin. Maybe it’s about me trying to protect myself from being raped again. Maybe it’s the pussy grabbing. Maybe it’s a lifelong battle against a patriarchal world that wants to label me, shame me, and force my body to conform. Maybe it’s all of those things.
Whatever it is, it’s my story. It’s the most visible story because I carry it with me every single day, but it’s also the hardest to talk about. It carries the most shame and fear of judgement, not because I think I’m bad or ugly or don’t love myself (I do), but because fat is one of the most unacceptable things to be in this image-obsessed world. It’s one of the hardest to live with, because there is always the assumption that it is “your fault”.
I’ve done enough public story-sharing to know that there will inevitably be those people who will read my story and judge me and/or want to fix me and send me the right diet, the right thyroid cure, the right books, the right self-love teachings, the right exercise plan, etc. They’ll tell themselves they’re doing it with my best interests at heart (don’t I want to live a long life? don’t I want to be a good influence for my children?), but they’re really not. They’re doing it because of their own discomfort with fatness.
And so I keep my fat stories close to my chest.
But this week, thanks to Roxane Gay, I feel differently. I feel like I want to add my voice to hers and say “We’re fat. Get over it.”
“Fat is not an insult. It is a descriptor. And when you interpret it as an insult, you reveal yourself and what you fear most.” – RG
Roxane Gay wrote a book called Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body. I haven’t read it yet, but it’s high on my list of “must read soon”. In it she shares what it’s like to walk around in the world as a fat person.
Coming out with her story should be liberating and empowering for Roxane (and I hope it is, for the most part) but this week, she was fat-shamed by one of the interviewers who talked to her about the book. Mia Freedman introduced the podcast by talking about the detailed preparations that had to be made for Roxanne Gay to visit her recording studio. “Will she fit into the office lift? How many steps will she have to take to get to the interview? Is there a comfortable chair that will accommodate her six-foot-three, ‘super-morbidly obese’ frame?”
The article made my blood boil. An interviewer should be honoured and humbled that someone of Roxane Gay’s stature (and by that I don’t mean size) and wisdom would visit the program. She’s one of the finest writers I know of and the fact that she is willing to share her vulnerable stories with people should be seen as a gift beyond measure. To shame someone who has done that kind of emotional labour on other people’s behalf is unconscionable and downright disgusting.
I was angry, but I was also triggered. I haven’t been the target of such overt and public fat-shaming, but I know what it’s like to have people look at you funny if you dare to eat french fries in public. And I know how it feels to have people on planes glance at you with a look that says they’re hoping they’re not seated next to you. And I know what it’s like to be hesitant to ride your bicycle around the neighbourhood because you’re pretty sure people are judging you.
Here’s a newsflash in case this comes as a surprise… Fat people know they’re fat. And we don’t need pity or advice or judgement. And there is absolutely nothing a stranger could say to us that would suddenly make us able to change the size of our bodies. Every piece of advice on getting thinner is already available to us. Every bit of shame anyone’s tempted to heap on us, we’ve probably already heaped on ourselves.
We’re not fat because we’re not smart enough, don’t try hard enough, or haven’t been shamed enough for it. We’re fat because… well, because we’re fat. That’s about all anyone other then us and perhaps our most intimate circle of friends, family, or medical professionals (if we so choose) needs to know about us.
We might choose, like Roxane Gay, to offer up a story to help people understand why we’re fat, but we do not owe that story to anyone. When we choose to be vulnerable about it, that is our gift, not our obligation.
After reading the story about Mia Freedman, I watched an interview Roxane Gay did with Trevor Noah. In it she talked about how her weight started accumulating after she was gang-raped as a young teenager. And then she said something profound that goes beyond just a story about weight.
“People want a triumphant narrative. They want to know that you have solved the problem of your body. But my body is not a problem and it’s certainly not something I have solved yet.”
Indeed. We want the triumphant narrative. We want to hear stories of success – of how a simple diet or lifestyle change transformed someone’s life – so that we can believe that success is possible and there are neat bows that can be tied around a story to clean up the messy bits in the middle.
But we don’t always get the triumphant narrative. Sometimes we get continued struggle. And sometimes we get to a place of acceptance of what is rather than a triumph over it.
I have been struggling with that triumphant narrative this past year. Though I didn’t know it consciously, I had subconsciously bought into the typical health and wellness coaching narrative that leads us to believe that when we find contentment and healing in our lives and once we get rid of the external baggage that was weighing us down, we’ll start to lose pounds off our bodies as well. “Clear out the bad energy and your body will respond accordingly.”
I’m the happiest and healthiest I’ve been in a long time. A LOT has shifted for me emotionally in the two years since my marriage ended. I got rid of a lot of clutter (both physical and emotional) when I cleaned out and renovated my home. My business has grown and I’m doing work that I love and that I’m fulfilled by. I’ve been for therapy and I’ve done lots of energy and body healing work. I’m learning to pay attention to my body in new ways. I’m in such a good place, I almost feel guilty sometimes about how good my life is.
But… I am also the heaviest I’ve ever been. Heavier than I was when I was pregnant with my daughters. And that doesn’t make sense in a world that wants a triumphant narrative.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t know how to square that away in my mind. Shouldn’t all of that effort to heal my emotional wounds result in a slimmer body? If I gained the weight because of the trauma and wounds, shouldn’t it come off now?
But there’s another part of me – the part that has sat at the bedside and watched my mother die, the part that held my dead son’s body in my arms, and the part that knows that rapists climb through windows – that knows that the triumphant narrative is, more often than not, bull shit.
Sure we get triumph sometimes, but we also get pain and failure.
Perhaps the direct correlation between the healing and the weight loss is just another one of those marketing stories the health coaches want to sell us. Maybe it’s a lot more complicated than that. Otherwise… wouldn’t Oprah, with all of her experts and money, have figured out how to keep it all off permanently by now?
What I keep coming back to is this… Acceptance and resilience are worth a lot more than triumph.
Sure, triumph is flashy and alluring, but acceptance and resilience are a lot more valuable in the long run. Acceptance and resilience bring contentment and teach us how to get through the fire the next time it comes.
That’s the part I’m working on. I am accepting this fat body that still loves to ride a bicycle through the neighbourhood. I am accepting the amazing way this body knows how to birth babies even when they’re dead. I am accepting the pain this body is capable of holding. I am accepting the fact that this body loves pleasure and comfort and good food and good wine. I am accepting the way it feels when my beloveds wrap their arms around this body. And I am accepting the fact that there are still emotional wounds that this body is holding that may take all of my life to heal.
Because this body may be fat, but this body is also powerful and fierce and has climbed mountains, wielded hammers, birthed babies, carried canoes, held crying children, hiked through forests, slept on the bare ground, skinny-dipped in wild lakes, made love, survived rape, and rode horses.
And this body will continue to do all those things for as long as she can no matter how much judgement comes her way.
Thanks for sharing Heather…..Wow….I am speechless, i can relate with alot of what you wrote…Thanks…..
I am also speechless Heather. I have felt slender shamed in my own way as well, but family members that are much larger than I am. Sorry to be comparing myself to you in the opposite way. I was heaviest at my wedding when I weighed 167 lbs. I’m now around 145. I love how you’ve written this. I am so sorry for the fat shaming. My mom is still going through this too…it can make a total mess out of your life! I know since I listen to my own mom about it.
Stunning read. Thank you for sharing Heather. Whenever I see photos of you the one word I’ve never associated with you is fat ❤️
I read every word of everything you write, Heather, and I certainly can’t say that for every post that comes into my in-box. You are such a gift, as you’ve once again proven by this honest and touching and important piece. The entire issue of weight in our contemporary cultures is so complicated. There are no easy explanations, nor are there any easy fixes. And, I think what needs to be fixed is not necessarily someone’s weight as much as it is how we view and judge someone’s weight. You have positively and eloquently contributed to the conversation. Thank you.
“the triumphant narrative is, more often than not, bull shit.”
I am in the middle of treatment for cancer and everyone wants to hear the end of the story, the triumphant narrative. Few can sit in the process of the story, which is changing and will never be the same. Thank you for the words, the insight, the wisdom.
“Everyone wants to hear the end of the story”. So true. People always jump to a “cure”. I have lost track of the number of the people who cannot fathom the words “chronic, progressive, incurable diseases”. The response to those four words is invariably “but You Can get better”, by definition: no. People have literally backed away, out of the conversation, rather than accept that mine is not a triumphant narrative, they would rather physically fade into the bushes than confront that idea.
I bow to you, Heather. Your vulnerability, your honesty and your strength is mind blowing. Thank you for sharing ❣️
Finally letting go of the triumphant narrative regarding my separation has shifted so much for me in terms of peace and hope. Instead of clinging desperately to the fantasy ‘against all odds we made it and now are happier together than ever’ fairy tale ideal, I see much more happiness in surrendering and dumping this bull shit, as you so aptly called it. Thanks Heather, for getting me thinking in this direction and helping me with one more piece of closure and insight. As always 🙂 <3
Oh Heather. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this.
Wow, you are so gifted.
Thank you for this. I am overweight also. I’ve made my peace with it. I eat healthy, low/no sugar, no carbs, I exercise, I do yoga and hike. My body doesn’t change much.
I work with preschoolers, who are brutally honest. One day one asked why I was fat. My co-worker gasped and started the “speak kindly” talk, but I stopped her. I told her I was not ashamed or embarrassed. This is who I am at this point in a beautiful, mostly happy life.
So, thank you.
Thank you Heather. Beautiful expression of a life beautifully lived.
Heather, thank you for this vulnerable (and therefore powerful) honesty. This is exactly how I feel about my chronic illness, which has disabled me. Everyone wants me to get well, not so much for me, but for them. I am so grateful for this phrase “triumphant narrative” – it hits the nail totally on the head. Acceptance (from others and from ourselves) is a huge part of holding space. Thank you.
I love this article. So beautifully written. We all have the right to exist and our bodies are our own business.
Beautifully written. Very brave and frank. It is a journey of growth and people who are sensitive and vulnerable can gather that extra layer of self protection which is so hard to let go of, which has become part of us. Blessings on your journey. Thank you.
Wow Thank you for writing & sharing this. So true. We really are so ingrained with the triumph narritive. Thank you for illuminating that for me. It feels like a huge weight (no pun intended) being lifted off me. I really try & focus myself on quality of life & celebrating where I’m at….but deep down there is the echo of ‘not good enough’ . We see tons of weight loss success stories everyday – their trumph, but truthfully….i don’t want to spend my days centred around improving my body. I don’t want to spend endless hours in the gym or think of the ramifications of everything I eat. I don’t want to sacrafice the enjoyment of being outdoors, spontaneous moments, chillin’, etc to the “Gods” of “a perfect body”……i want to enjoy all aspects of life – including excersise, in they way that brings harmony, balance & peace into my life. If that means I am not the perfect size 7 who really cares. I am a perfectly imperfect – enjoying where I’m at – size 12 or 14 ! Thank you again for brining light to this awareness for me.
‘Get over it’ indeed. For my part I know through hard experience that ‘acceptance and resilience are worth a lot more than triumph’ but we all get sucked into that need to create the triumphant narrative, whatever the circumstances, because it’s such a huge part of our culture. You mentioned that you’ve had a hard time talking about it but I have always been impressed by the way you rise above it in social media, not allowing the vanity of curating your image to stop you from being direct and real.
Bravo for confronting this and coming to acceptance. But for me today, the extra weight i carry is making everyday life harder. the one thing i can’t do right now is play tennis which i love. but since last year it’s been one injury after another because of my weight. physical therapy is the answer right now. just to simply walk up and down stairs. how do you equate acceptance with quality of life.
Maybe accept today knowing that you are creating a better future one small step at a time?
Thank you for sharing today, Heather.
I love how your story gives you space to be you, without submitting to the promptings from others around you. I especially liked how you did not frame others as part of the problem. Despite the sometimes misguided attempts to help fat people, you left space for them without shaming them back. Thank you for the dignity you showed.
Tears and smiles – of resonance, of joy, of ALL the feels! And when I get my fat ass up in a minute there will be a little joyful jig of gratitude – thank you for this, Heather .
So deeply moved by this blog. YES ! Still wounded for all the healing, therapy, clearing that I’ve done. No perfect “success” narrative – yet those wounds and my journey have carved out a depth of understanding and compassion that I share with those I work with. And this highlighted the part of me that witholds forgiveness for not being the success story. I shall sit with this gently. Many blessings to you.
To me, there is no problem with how much we weight. Our bodies come all equipped with a genetic baggage that determines how much we will weight throughout life, and not everybody is into training/sports and plain salads to (often times uselessly) change that. My only concern would be that the extra weight is caused by compulsive overeating/binging, alone, late at night, with the desire to numb oneself. That, in my opinion, is not emotionally healthy and needs addressing with words, not with food, although food will/can be the first (effective) coping/soothing mechanism.
Obviously this is not your case, and I’m happy you are doing well and enjoying life, at the weight genetics/life has determined for you.
Thank you for the great column
Such an amazing post Heather. Thank you.
Thank you. This really struck a chord with me.
THIS! love you. Respect on.
Thank you. This is me. You have voiced me.
There are times, while reading this, that felt as though I was speaking. There were places in your article where I heard my mother’s voice, my father’s voice, my sister saying, “we just don’t understand why you want to be fat.” I heard the boy who told me, “I don’t date girls who outweigh me.” Thank you for speaking your truth.
Deep and so on target, not just the topic — but our entire culture of shame and abuse, with behavioral / mental health issues, and so many other things– TODAY I will take acceptance and resilience and a bit of peace of heart, mind and soul. Thank you as always…
Yes and yes and thank you for writing this and sharing.
This is really beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
Beautiful! I am wonderin one thing though, is it I am carrying a lot of fat or I am fat? The latter sounds like an identity and that is not what you meant. Just a thought
Thank you again for discussing this important topic. I think we have all felt shame for our bodies in one way or another, and have also shamed others. I’ve had larger women make snarly comments at me for being thin. We need to own this and heal it so we can remember who we truly are and what really matters. We are all wounded and it just shows up in different ways. I don’t like being short and tiny and having small breasts, so I struggle with body shame in my own way. I shared this article in a woman’s circle I belong to, and I know it will help others who are struggling to finally get to “perfect” whatever our definition of that might be.
Thank you for this! I’ll carry your words of wisdom with me.