A Cage Left Open

Fat Girl's Lament

Fat. I was eight years old when I first heard the word- really heard it; it was the first time it took on any meaning, the first time I realized that something about me was different. It was the first time I was told something was inherently wrong with me.

Picture this: my squat self, with cherub cheeks blushing the color of cotton candy, and bobbed copper curls pinned back carelessly- I was the image of excitement. It was finally the day of our performance. My third grade class was putting on a production of The Nutcracker, and I felt like a star, with a sparkly wand in my hand and a tutu that sat ever so slightly lop-sided on my waist. I was a sugar-plum fairy.

As we dressed for the show, I watched my tiny classmates slipped on their pink tights and leotards. Of course, I was perfectly content as I tugged on my own outfit- I could barely contain my excitement. The eight of us lined up, giggling with wide open, snaggle-toothed grins on our faces. As our conversations came to a lull, I noticed a couple of the girls exchanging whispers and casting glances in my direction. I didn't mind- I just ran our choreography. I was lost in my own little world, blissfully unaware of what my fellow fairies were saying about me. Until I heard it. That word. Fat.

"Look at Jordan. Her tummy is hanging over her tutu. She's so fat!"

Although I'd heard the word before, it never had been directed towards me. And never before had it made me feel different. But in that moment, I felt so... dirty. Though I couldn't explain why, I felt my face flush a fierce crimson as I stood in my little pink leotard. My heart sunk as the sparkly wand I had been so proud of plummeted to the floor, along with my naive sense of confidence.

Before that day, I was a pretty carefree kid. My biggest worry was if Daddy would take us out for ice cream after school. Snack time gossip centered around who had the crayon box with the sharpener in the back. After that dreaded word made its way into my vocabulary, however, my concerns made a dramatic shift- I didn't want ice cream anymore. Instead, I begged Daddy to buy healthy snacks. Any whispers I heard in class had to be about me; my weight must have been the hot topic of every kids' conversation. Though I had always been reserved, now I was virtually non-existent. I often found myself alone in my bedroom, my head filled with self-deprecating thoughts. I finally realized that society hated who I was.

For years now, I've been haunted by these thoughts. It's been a tumultuous journey of combating stereotypes and trying to find my place in a world that tells me I shouldn't be who I am. My life has been a chorus of I'm sorry and excuse mes; years of hiding in the corner like the wallflower I am. But finally, I realize that I've spent too long apologizing for the wrong reasons... too long trying to hide behind a mask of words meant to belittle me. I refuse to let society continue to define me.

So:

To the boy in gym who was so livid, because couldn't run fast enough to bump that volleyball, I'm sorry that all 200-something pounds of this body didn't move the way you wanted it to, but it has served me pretty well over the years. It's been to Hell and back, gone on for miles, and still, it hasn't failed me yet.

To the people who whisper to their friends as I pass you in the halls, know that even if you don't think I notice, I do. I notice every single one of your stifled giggles, poorly-disguised stares, and hushed conversations. I promise, you aren't very skilled at hiding it. In any case, just know that even if you can't appreciate this body for all that it is, I can. I love every dimple, every freckle, and even every roll. For the first time in my life, I can say that I love myself, and nothing you say will change that.

To the boys who don't give me more than a passing glance, I'm tired of excuses. Hearing "I only like you as a friend," gets pretty old after the thousandth time. But for the love of all things good in the world, if you're going to turn me down because you aren't attracted to me then just say it! Please don't make me think that I'm not smart enough, or funny enough, because I will spend countless hours trying to figure out why I'm not good enough for you, and my weight will be the last thought to pop into my head.

And to society- know that you no longer can control me. Because, finally, this fat girl is breaking free.