Fat American, shoveling a deep-fried Twinkie at the State Fair into their mouth. Fat American, sitting in her car eating her second double bacon cheese burger after coming through the drive through. Fat American, in a buffet line working on their second, no third, helping. Fat American, eating two microwave dinners in front of the TV. Fat American, Fat American, Fat American!!!
Fat people are stereotyped for loving food.Not just food itself but, food in gross proportions! And that food is usually deep-fried and smothered in either grease or chocolate. These are confessions of Fat Americans. We like to laugh at them, shake our heads and pretend that it doesn’t exist. Fat people like to pretend that the words said behind our back don’t really hurt. Fat people are paranoid that skinny people are all secretly judging us behind our backs.
Okay, maybe it’s just me. I’m not the spokes person for all fat people. I’ve never eaten a deep-fried Twinkie or candy bar of any sorts but I’ve been curious. The only thing stopping me is of course the deep repulsion of the actual deed. I don’t understand American’s sometimes. But despite not understanding them, I do admit to contributing to the stereotype. I have eaten with my mom in the drive through parking lot, I have made my way through more than a single helping at a buffet line and I have eaten two microwave dinners in front of not only the TV, but the computer too. I used to blow through $250 on groceries every two weeks when I lived in Seattle with my ex. That’s not counting the many times we ate out, the many middle of the night runs to 7-11 or the meals at his family’s. So it doesn’t surprise me that I gained so much weight, so quickly.
But, my eating habits could never been called normal. I grew up in a single parent house hold and for fifteen years I lived next door to the best grandparents a kid could ever ask for. But they resulted in weird eating habits. There was a small square diningroom table that we rarely ate meals at. Most of my meals consisted of frozen, instant or fast food. I’m not saying my mother never cooked, she is actually a really good one, but when you work forty to fifty hours a week (as much as seventy hours when I reached thirteen) it was just easier to pick something up or pop something in the microwave. I ate with my hippy grandparents a lot too but my grandma pretty much refused to cook. That left my grandpa with the majority of takeout menu’s we’d order from.
And I gained weight. By the time I was fifteen and a half, stepping off the plane into Portland, OR. I was a very insecure, size sixteen, just under two hundred pound girl. I had this sick distortion of who I thought I was in my head. I knew I wasn’t the fattest person in the world but I didn’t think anyone but the faceless friends I made on the net, anyone would truly love me. But I was wrong. I did make friends. I had a boyfriend who went from just someone I met online to a 3 hour-long distant relationship. And for year I had the closest thing to a sister living with me. But I still wasn’t happy, I still didn’t think I was good enough. So I kept eating. I ate to fill the void that I thought was hunger, but what was really love. In five years I gained sixty pounds. After two more I gained twenty more.
I can’t simply sit here and explain to you what changed. I can’t say there was this one life altering defining moment. I had reached to what felt like my breaking point many times. Change didn’t happen over night. I’ve had to make many mistakes and come to live with the consequences of decisions I’ve made. I’m nowhere near the person I want to become but I’m starting to see her. I can see Lilly waving in the distance and I am ever running towards her. Sometimes I catch up to her but before I can catch my breath, she is teasingly darting out of my grasp. She reminds me not to give up, not to look back. Lilly reminds me that I’m not just a Fat American. She reminds me to keep running towards my dreams.
I’ve come a long way to losing even the weight I have, as of this morning, twenty-two pounds!!! As of this morning I am two-hundred and sixty-four pounds and I could not be more ecstatic. It feels like my dreams are starting to finally starting to happen. From moving into my own place, to losing weight, to going back to school for web design. I tease that I will be a millioniare by the time I’m thirty. I have my outline and if I can keep up the pace, I just might be. Where the only thing fat on me will be my wallet. So watch me run (not literally… yet) ever onwards towards my dreams. Because I’m running. I’m running and not looking back!