Fat Girl Syndrome -or- And All This Time I Thought “Chub Rub” Was Another Name For Foreplay
I stood behind her in the line at the Krispy Kreme. She was big, and dressed like it, wearing an outfit that contained a large percentage of manmade fibers, and the pieces clung to her body in a way that was less than flattering. She stood hunched over, in an apparent attempt to be smaller. Or just disappear altogether. She spoke nervously.
“These aren’t all for me. I’m taking them to some friends who moved to the country. They don’t have Krispy Kreme out there.”
The woman behind the counter ignored her words and waited; box open, tongs at the ready, for her to order.
“I just didn’t want you to think I was eating all these myself. They’re for friends.”
The doughnut wrangler nodded, less out of interest in what the woman was saying, and more in the interest of getting her to mosey along. The woman finally began pointing to the glazed beauties quickly and succinctly, until she had filled four boxes. She explained herself again, half to the tong-wielder, half to the line that had formed behind her, of which I was the head. She looked at me.
“I sure hope these are the kind my friends like.”
I smiled, politely, my facial expression betraying the rage that was building inside of me. She got her four dozen doughnuts and paid for them as I gave my order. As I turned to leave, clutching my box of warm, chewy mouthgasms, I noticed that she had taken a seat at a table in the dining area and opened one of the boxes.
It was clear to me that this woman was suffering from Fat Girl Syndrome: The condition overweight women sometimes develop which includes an obsessive need to apologize for ourselves in even the most normal of situations. No one in that line cared if she was getting four boxes of doughnuts or forty. If she was getting them for friends, for enemies, or to fashion into a dress to wear to the Grammys. No one cared about her country-ass pals or their vitamin KK deficiency. In her attempt to not be noticed, she achieved the exact opposite. In her effort to avoid being The Fat Lady, she became the whole damn sideshow.
I hate that she felt like she had to atone for some imagined sin, setting the expectation that others of us will do the same. Hell no. I was right behind her in line. I’m a fatty, and I wanted some fucking doughnuts. Sometimes, I want a chicken. Sometimes I want to go to the mall and feel free to enter a store without the word “plus” somewhere on the sign. Sometimes I want to wear a tube top. This woman was saying “sorry I exist” with her remorseful tone, her regretful body language, her sorry eyes. And I was left feeling like I had to counteract that, screaming “I EXIST!” with my strong, sarcastic tone; my confident posture; my defiant eyes.
Fat acceptance is a hot topic on the internet these days, and has been swirling around in my peripheral vision for a while. I’ve read strong opinions from both sides and seen facts and insults lobbed into enemy foxholes like grenades, but I don’t get exactly what the movement is about. Trying to convince people to accept our being overweight feels like ANOTHER WAY of admitting we are wrong. Of apologizing. Why ask for approval? He didn’t ask me to accept the fact that he secretly thinks Ed Hardy clothing is bomb. She didn’t ask me to accept the fact that she’ll sometimes polish off a whole bottle of red wine by herself while watching a Law & Order marathon. You didn’t ask me to accept the fact that you are a die hard Fanilow and fantasize about Barry while making love to your husband but in that fantasy Barry Manilow also has female breasts so you’re scared you might be a tiny bit gay, too. You know why? Because whether or not I deem them acceptable, those things are part of you. And her. And him. And my fat is a part of me. You don’t accept? TURN THE FUCK AROUND. I’m big, but a 180 degree turn ought to take care of whatever kind of problem you have with how I look.
Women, please stop apologizing. Stop begging for acceptance, because that takes power away from us and puts the ball in the world’s court. And if they don’t accept? What then? Does it change you in some way? Or do the things they are saying just echo the voices in your head?
The only way to stop needing approval is to approve of ourselves. Know that there is perfection in all of us. Don’t you just love the fact that you have pretty, dainty feet? Isn’t the way your right eyebrow arches so Marlene Dietrich? What about your face that is unlined because chub fills wrinkles or breasts that are a size that people in L.A. pay a lot of money for? Can’t you find enough awesome things about yourself to acknowledge that there might be a tiny bit of absolute flawlessness in you that in no way needs someone else’s approval to exist?
My thin friends are often reminded of what they’ve been blessed with. Told they are “lucky” for how they’re built. Well, you know what? They are. And so am I. I’m lucky I’m built like a fucking goddess and have been blessed with a fully-functioning, highly sexual, temple of a body that I wouldn’t trade for the world. Oh, and I’ll be in the sideshow, too. I’ll be the one eating fire and juggling knives while tap dancing. In a revealing costume. I’ll be damned if Fat Girl Syndrome is going to get me. Whether they accept it or not.
HeatherVonsj@gmail.com
Woman, you fucking rock.
Twitter: damenamedredd
/ Jul 4 2010
I often try and tell myself that being fat is awesome. Like, it’s 3am, I woke up in the middle of the night and really want a fucking cookie (or 3). Know what? I can eat them and not worry about it being “too late at night”. Fuck it, I want cookies!
And I thought I couldn’t like this blog more than I already did. Awesome post, THANKS!
{ STANDING OVATION! }
Twitter: jennytalia2009
/ Jul 4 2010
I am going to dig out my bikini
Right. Fucking. Now.
Where shall I send the photos?
x
Beautifully written!
Fuck YEAH!
Twitter: onSanity
/ Jul 4 2010
my favourite bit “I’m big, but a 180 degree turn ought to take care of whatever kind of problem you have with how I look.”
and don’t mess with my late night crappy tv orgies
*standing and cheering* I found your blog b/c of a retweet from @guiltysquid. You rock! Thanks for making me appreciate myself more!
Twitter: Mizsassypants
/ Jul 4 2010
Yeah, I lost 100+ lbs but still heavier. Need knee surgery but doc refused saying I’m “WAY too heavy” even though it’s clearly visible how bad the knee problem is and that surgery is indicated. He said if I was 50 lbs or more lighter he’d do surgery “in a heartbeat”. When I asked what should I do abt horrible pain, his reply (repeated 10x) was “Try and stop eating”.
I hate being fat but I hate the world’s thinking that this is the last “safe” thing to be openly “against”.
Twitter: pagalina
/ Jul 4 2010
I wish people would use that 180° turn-around for any and everything that offends them. Don’t like the color of my skin? fuck off. My being of the chick variety pissing you off? Bite me. Think I drink too much? Well, have a goddamn drink on me and relax! Everybody, mind your own beeswax and embrace your own brand of different and move along!
Twitter: LauraQofU
/ Jul 4 2010
I love this. You fucking rock!
You are so awesome! Thank-you, I so needed that today. xoxo
Remember the time you were awesome? Like, every damn day of your life?
I…LOVE…YOU in like you might be George Clooney in my dreams one night
Twitter: stopbouncing
/ Jul 6 2010
announcing her order only brought more attention to her.. I do not understand why people do that… as if anyone else cares…
As a former, occasional and probably future Chubby Dude, I long ago decided to apologize for my size and/or the seemingly meteoric changes therein only after the rest of the world starts apologizing for being assholes.
Oddly, I haven’t had to hire a press secretary just yet.
In college, I was the girl that would explain to the cashier that no, those 3 bags of chips weren’t ALL for me, I was having a party. Until I realized that if I want to eat 3 bags of chips then Frito-Lay should send me a thank you card and everyone else should STFU.
My best friend and I lived together after college and every morning when we woke up, we would tell each other how fabulous we looked and how generally awesome we were while we were getting dressed. Starting the morning with that kind of pep talk really helps.
It’s been 7 years since then, and I’m happier now as a size 16 than I was in college as a size 8!
Twitter: uvaleg
/ Jul 6 2010
Seriously. You are so awesome.
lydia -
Thanks, new mama. I really appreciate your support.
Melissa -
I love the morning peptalk. I think I’ll implement it with the teens.
Being tiny included a lot of worry. Being big just feels like me. So glad you are happy.
Hugh Jarse -
I’ll start campaigning for acceptance when Republicans and litterbugs do the same.
stephanie -
Exactly. And, if they do, fuck ‘em.
LibraryGirl62 -
I’d be happy to play your George Clooney. Also, I give good cuddle and would brush your hair.
Liz -
Even now? In a tattered tank top covered in chihuahua fur and ill-fitting panties? Do you love me still?
Colleen -
I think we all need a little bit of it, every day. Thank you.
Laura -
Thank you. I am queen of the pep talks. Come over anytime.
pagalina -
The 180 might be the key to world peace. Beeswax. Word.
Sassy Pants -
I’m so sorry about your knee. Not eating is NOT the answer. I have a crazy, forever fucked up body to prove it.
I am openly against being openly against things.
Katie -
I’ll be right here telling you that you have hot elbows or shiny hair or whatever you need. It’s what I do.
angelica -
It’s 2am and I’m watching Dragon Tales on PBS Sprout. I’d be pissed at me, too.
jen -
The Fuck Yeah Revolution has begun.
Jennifer -
Thank you so much.
Jenny Talia -
Mom emailed and said that she was getting into a bathing suit for the first time in years after reading this. I’ll tell you both the same thing, bush is good but not everyone wants to experience yours. Be polite.
J’adore.
Diane -
I’ll gladly take your standing o. But I’ll do it sitting. Because it’s hot.
ShannonCC -
Thank you. It likes you back, but it’s shy.
Redd -
I’ve been thin, I’ve been fat. Thin was a lot more work and I am lazy.
Archaeogoddess -
It’s funny because you said “rock” and you work with oh well nevermind. I see what you did there. Thanks.
While I whole-heartedly agree with your sentiment, literally not milliseconds before my friend posted a link to this and I clicked, I had just finished complaining about my lack of motivation. A lack of motivation to lose weight. Why a lack of motivation? Because I’m content with myself. I’m pretty (pretty face, beautiful hair, huge boobs and the rare 24-hourglass figure) but I’m 5’9″/285lbs. I’m unhealthy. I struggle with the common foe “stairs”, as well as the lesser known beast called “putting on my socks without using my pant leg to lift my foot within range of my hands”. I have heart palpitations all the time…not just when physically or emotionally stressed. And why? Because I look in the mirror and see none of it. No triple chin, no chipmunk cheeks. I have the opposite problem of every other fat girl on the planet. I should be happy, right? I’m being myself and making no apologies to other people about how I look. I’m the morbidly obese girl everyone forgets is fat. It’s a bacon lover’s dream come true.
And while I make no apologies to others, I owe myself plenty of apologies. “I’m sorry this struggling happened because I was too lazy to keep the weight off when I lost it the first time” is one of them. (No, I didn’t used to have motivation, I used to use drugs and I lost 75lbs doing it then when I stopped I gained 120 back.) My dad always told me I was beautiful no matter what my weight was. And I believed him. While this has given me a confidence and personality I can be proud of, it’s also crushed my desire to better myself. I feel my heart, as I speak, beating out of sync as I eat my lunch. You would think that would motivate me…but it doesn’t. “Be happy with what you have” they always said. And I listen to this day whether I like it or not.
So while apologizing to society should never happen (I’ll use my foot to help their 180 if they really can’t do it alone!), you should apologize to yourself enough, but not too much. Find that in-between land where you scold yourself for buying those 4 boxes of donuts (or preferably enough to never buy them to begin with), but not so much that you hurt yourself with constant criticism. Recognize whether your weight is truly a mere “overweight” but healthy (society’s idea of “overweight” is often well within a healthy range) or if you truly have cause for concern. Sometimes the former turns to the latter before you know it. It happened to me and every breath I take is harder because I let it happen.
thank you for this post!
Twitter: mommakiss
/ Jul 9 2010
I have chub rub and it’s the most uncomfy thing in the world. Especially when sweaty. I recently worked at a golf tournament and the caddies and I had a long discussion about Gold Bond. They use it for their sweaty balls. Not related to being fat, of course, just thought of it and figured I’d share.
Great post
ninjac -
I’m like a fat crusader. Thank you for reading it.
I understand you wanting to be okay with yourself, and I think you should be. But, the facts don’t lie. Your being overweight is a responsibility that we all will share. You are more likely to develop heart disease, type-2 diabetes, need knee replacement, vein treatment, suffer from congestive heart failure and a few more.
I know this because of my own mother. Aside from her now (having lost the weight) hanging in there, she is suffering all the complications of too much too often. My dad is responsible for all her needs (oxygen, diet, etc.) and we are responsible for paying her health care bills through taxes for all the meds, nursing care and hospital treatments she has needed over the years.
I wasn’t “blessed” with a thin body. I don’t believe those are God’s gifts, they are simply logical cause and effect reactions to our own choices. (If you have a genetically-based situation, this really doesn’t apply to you.) I am thin, (now) because I decided after witnessing the decline of my mother’s health to not follow in her footsteps. I was sexy heavy and I am sexy thin, but if I was gay, that would be my birth destiny, not a conscious decision). If I eat junk food and don’t get my butt doing some type of exercise, it is a choice.
I have been there, and it takes a lot of bravery to do a 180 of a different type. So I am truly glad you are at peace, but hope you consider being beautiful and healthy for all.
Zimarme – you’ve got to be kidding me. Of course being healthy is a lifestyle choice but not everybody who chooses to bravely eat fruits, veggies, and exercises becomes thin. Just because your gracious hostess is a strong enough woman to love herself in her own skin doesn’t mean you need to come on here and pelt her with broccoli florets for it. Sheesh.
Hi Michelle, didn’t mean to pelt anyone, just have walked the walk and feel terrible (and somewhat angry) for my mom. I wanted to give a push, not a shove.
Constructive criticism isn’t always mean-spirited or wrong.
Peace!
you so rock for writing this!
I do have to add that I’ve noticed that its women of all shapes and sizes … that if we don’t look like the airbrushed skinny twigs on the magazine covers, we have to apologize.
getcha -
the key is to NOT be sorry. thank you.
Twitter: x_rook_x
/ Sep 9 2010
You know the weird thing is that everyone notices if you eat a little (or a lot) more than an average person, but no one seems to notice the skinny girls who survive off of ice water and vodka.
I digress – I hate people who apologize for who they are. I don’t care if you’re 40lbs or 400lbs. I don’t care if you’re black or Asian or white.
Here’s the only thing I want people to apologize for:
-Stepping on my feet or knocking me over because they don’t notice me (I’m short.)
-Putting their ass on my face in the movie theater (though if they ever put their crotch near my head, I will probably kill them)
If they apologize or make excuses for being fat or skinny or too loud or too quiet I just want to strangle them.
I’m chubby, I talk too much and I laugh too loud, and I love myself. Fuck everyone else who isn’t into that.