A Cure for the Common Fattie

As we know, the bigger you are, the more universally hated you are.

I mean, even Carrie Fisher said the world is a hostile place for a fat person.  She is not wrong.

Yesterday I visited the endocrinologist for a follow up on my issues.  Got CAT scan results.  The good news - nothing is wrong.  The bad news - nothing is wrong.  Square one again.  Still have the pain and the hyperhidrosis but they dunno what's causing it.

This endocrinologist came highly recommended by several people, including my regular doc and my psychiatrist.  So I was expecting the best possible treatment.  First visit went alright.  He tried to push WLS on me, gastric bypass.  Told him no go.  He backed off.

Yesterday he brought it up again, as if he had forgotten I said absolutely not.  And when I reminded him that I wasn't going to do it, he shamed me by making a condescending remark that he thought it was "interesting" that my hyperhidrosis wasn't affected by my weight and sent me on my way.  He even had the gall to refer me back to the Revolving Door Dermatology Warehouse.

Anyway, I left in a huff.  Feeling like a substandard human because I am not small enough to be treated like everyone else.  Not my proudest moment.  I'm angry at myself for letting someone get to me and for allowing myself to feel that way.

Seems like I am seeing so much fat hate lately. More than usual.  I'm probably still miffed over the couple who openly made fun of me last week.  It's all weighing in my mind.  (Weighing... puns... I'm so clever.  *snort*)

Instead of whining about it, I've decided to just buy in.  If you can't beat them, join them, right?  That's what they always say and they always know what they're talking about.

Hate fat people?  Of course you do.  Everyone does.  So let's eliminate them.  These are the most popular techniques currently in use by the diet industry, Cosmopolitan Magazine and millions of commenters all over the internet.

First of all, insults make fat people thin.  I haven't seen this work with my own eyes.  But I know it has to be effective because it is socially acceptable to belittle and shame big people.  Remember the Bowflex guy who "gave all his FAT clothes to his FAT friends?"  That was a national ad campaign.  So that tells you right there that the entire nation can't think of anything worse than being fat.

Bullying, that's another one that really hits home.  Ohkay, this one didn't work on me unfortunately but it probably is helpful to the ones who actually survive it.  I know, I survived it too.  But I'm a bad example because ...  ...  Mmmm...  Hrmmm.  Well, I guess it must work because of science or something.

Alright, now we have the obvious one, diet ads!  Almost every single commercial break has at least one, sometimes several.  There are pills and gadgets and garments and meal plans and you can even hire someone to remind you on a regular basis what a foul, disgusting pig you are.  I think her name is Jillian Michaels.

Of course, you can't watch anything on E! or read anything in mainstream lifestyle magazines without having attention called to the fact that you're a horrible warty fat toad.  All the fashion trends are focused on looking as small as possible.  Smaller is better.  Always.  Amazing summer beach bodies perpetually belong to the stars who have hired a trainer, nutritionist, plastic surgeon and chef then spent all their extra time in their private home gyms to shed an extra five pounds.  And if THEY can do it with their busy schedules and tight budgets, then we slovenly blobs have no excuse.

The next time you are out and about and someone remarks on your size, you immediately apologize!  Then you thank them for helping you keep feelings of shame and embarrassment right under the surface.

Also, go to the nearest bathroom and barf up everything you've eaten for the past three weeks then sell everything you own and hire that trainer lady to scream about all your physical misgivings in your face while you sob on a treadmill.

Fuck.

All.

That.

Shit.

You know what needs a cure?  We do.  All of us.  I have so many friends who put themselves down constantly.  Stop it.  Please.  You're not accomplishing anything positive when you do that.

You read the magazines and think that's how you /should/ look when you roll out of bed.

Let me tell you something.  For 10 years I worked full-time as a makeup artist.  I've seen professional models at 5 a.m.  They have zits, bags under their eyes, scars, crusty cuticles, weird veins, hair growing in strange places.  EVERYONE DOES.

But after a couple hours of hair and makeup, soft lighting, professional photography and a gifted graphic artist retouching the picture, they look like what you see in the magazines.  IT IS ALL A FACADE.  It isn't meant to be lived day in and day out.  It's art.  It's someone's vision.  Flawlessness does not exist in anyone.

What you see as flaws in yourself aren't flaws at all.  They're part of being human.  Stop being so hard on yourself.  I've got to do the same thing.  I have completely unrealistic expectations of who I'm supposed to be and it causes me nothing but endless disappointment.

Fact: Fat people are big.  They're not dumb, they're not lazy, they don't stink.  (Yes, there ARE people in this world who are ignorant, unmotivated and smelly.  Those people come in all shapes and sizes.  Fat has nothing to do with it.)

Fiction: Hating and humiliating fat people will make the world a better place.

I don't know how to make this any clearer.  But the body shame has GOT TO STOP and I'm starting with me.

Maybe it's just a bad mood?

The idea of never leaving my house again appeals to me more and more every day.

I used to think it was because of how I was treated in high school that made me hate people.  That has something to do with it, but I am starting to realize I hate people because they're awful.

By people, I am talking specifically about mean, stupid people.  And usually mean people are stupid and stupid people are mean.

Does the stupid make them mean?  Not sure.  I've encountered below-average intelligence people who were delightful.  Perhaps the ones who are stupid by choice... those are the mean ones.

Yesterday, with some help from a co-worker, I finally busted a story tipster in a massive lie.  Biggest lie I've ever heard in the newsroom.  And it was a lie told about something tragic that affected thousands of people.  That makes it even worse.  I've had a gut feeling since May that the story wasn't true and to have two sources this week verify that I was right felt quite nice.  Renewed my trust in my own instincts.

Today someone called the magazine all pissed off because we keep addresses on file.  Dead serious.  He didn't think we should do that.  Never thought I would have to explain to someone that we need to keep their address so we can mail the magazine to which they've subscribed.  Is there some magic delivery service I don't know about?  Psychic Unicorn Express will bring your mail to you without having to know your address?

When my in-laws called this afternoon with an invitation to sushi, that temporarily lifted my foul misanthropic fog.  They suggested my favorite place, too.  Bonus!

Tonight they were running 10 minutes late but I parked and went inside anyway.  Not long after I sat down, a couple was seated at the booth across from me.  And they didn't even try to disguise their staring.  There are people in this world, in my town even, who look more unusual than I do.  So why the hell am I always getting the up-down eyes?  The staring was followed by whispering, more staring, more whispering then laughter.  I pretended not to notice, keeping busy with my phone.  Telling myself they're talking about something else, not me.  Stop being paranoid.  I busied myself texting Mr. Buffie and fiddling with chop sticks.

Once my in-laws arrived, the couple then broke out in hand gestures, confirming my suspicion.  The woman was trying to determine how big my chest was in relation to her own frame, looking at me and adjusting the length of her arms held out in front of her.  I continued to pretend I didn't notice.  My father-in-law was telling me about genetically engineered soybean crops... I think.  At that point, I was lost in my own head, angry, frustrated, desperate to escape.

It's funny because earlier today I read an article about restaurants who adopt a no-kids policy.  It reminded me of a few specific situations where I was dining out and was verbally harassed by groups of teens.  It has even happened with older people but it's usually teens.  Why are teenagers so hateful?  Was the teenage Buffie that hateful?  I had opinions about people at that age, but I don't ever recall making unprovoked statements to strangers in public.  Never had the urge to do anything horrible to someone unprovoked, I don't think.

In a way it was cosmic to read that story then relive something I've experienced so many times before.  Those experiences are always the first thoughts that flash through my mind at the mention of going out in public.

I was probably born predisposed to have anxiety or agoraphobia.  My mum tells me I was about 3 years old when she noticed I had an abnormal aversion to strangers.  Bullying and fat-hate exacerbated it and here we are.

People can't be changed.  You can't turn a mean stranger into a nice one anymore than a mean stranger can turn me into a thin person by insulting me.

But what do I do?  Continue to endure it?  That doesn't seem reasonable.  I don't know what to do.

All I know is the more I'm exposed to the general public, the more I only want to be around my family and friends or go only to certain places where I haven't had a scary experience.

Mr. Buffie, bless him, he has spoken up for me before and I truly appreciate it.  It was probably nine years ago that we were having lunch at Braum's when a table full of late-teen/early-twenties boys were having an obvious laugh about my body.  At some point, they were even talking (yelling) directly to me. As per my M.O., I ignored them.  Mr. Buffie walked over to their table and hit it with his fist.  That got their attention.  Then he politely told them to stop.  Know what happened?  They threatened him.  You know, the typical "how DARE you NOT sit there and tolerate my bullshit" bully attitude.  Ultimately they did leave without incident but for a moment, I was sure we were going to be physically assaulted.  So in addition to a couple other failed attempts to speak up, speaking up isn't looking like a practical solution either.

Sometimes I wonder if this rules my life.  I've blogged about it... a lot.  But it's because it affects me... a lot.  Maybe saying it rules me is too extreme.  However I can't deny that it does cause problems for me AND Mr. Buffie on a much-too-regular basis.

I want to be adventurous and spontaneous and experience new things but my anxiety swallows me whole.

Therapy helps.  When I have slacked off on treatment, the anxiety becomes remarkably worse.  So I know continuing to see the psychiatrist is the right thing to do.

I'm just not sure it's enough.  I have this goal, maybe a dream, that in the future I'll be fearless.  The problem with my dream is that I forget to include hate in my vision.

Thankfully, I'm happy in my own skin.  Life is good... better than good.  Life is great!  My family is incredible.  My friends are the best examples of humanity ever in history, no exaggeration.  I have kitty cats.  Even my job would be absolutely perfect if it weren't for dealing with strangers.  Then there are the material things, so many wonderful things.  I'm thankful for all of my possessions although they don't matter one fraction as much as family, friends and kitties.  Basically my needs are not only met but exceeded.  I live a fortunate life and I know it.

Hrmph.  It's a puzzle I can't solve on my own.

Mostly, I just don't want to hate the world anymore.