Hello, I am the "F" word...

Hi,
My name is Tammy and I am the "F" word. Not fuck. Fat.

I am fat; morbidly obese to be medically accurate. It doesn't matter that my blood pressure and triglycerides are well within medical limits, or that other than colds and age-related conditions (curse thee oh menopause), I tend to be pretty healthy...my weight overshadows (no pun intended) everything every one sees about me.

I'm hard to miss, even though I prefer not to be noticed. I am conservative in my dress, hairstyle and makeup. I say 'please, thank you and excuse me' like my mom taught me. I tend to have a pleasant disposition, greeting people with a cheery 'hello', not because I am the quintessential jolly fat girl, but because that's just manners. I try to stay out of people's way; I gather everything close to me in crowded elevators or buses. I walk as gracefully as possible and talk in a moderate voice. I don't want to take up anymore space than I phsycially need and I don't want to be a very visible target.

My weight could give me advantages - I could be a bully and intimidate others with my size. I could barge around and push others out of my way and take up even more space than I really need. I could talk loudly and fill up the air with a big voice to match my big body. I could demand to be seen and heard in proportion to all my fatness.

But that isn't me. My fat body isn't who I am. Granted, being overweight all my life has formed part of my personality. I think being made fun of as a child has made me a more empathetic person. Using my brain more than my body has sharpened my wit and my problem solving skills and honed my bullshit meter. Being bombarded by media messages that say I am not attractive, loveable or entitled to a sex life has made me wary of relationships that place a greater emphasis on the physical than the emotional.

I've evolved into the fat woman I am today from the chubby kid I was. I won't apologize for being fat. I don't make a new resolution every year to lose weight. I do make a concerted effort to eat healthier foods, to move more and to know my body and the signs that it isn't acting like itsfatself. I am not any of the stereotypes associated with a fat person. I am not lazy. My job is not physical, but it's work all the same. I am not poor. I am not rich, but I do okay. I do not sweat profusely unless doing strenuous exercise, which I tend to avoid. I do not smell, other than of a perfume I've worn for years. I am not stupid or ignorant or uneducated, even about the risks of being overweight and avoiding exercise. I do not eat the equivalent of a week's worth of food in one sitting. I do eat too many calories for the amount of energy I expend.

Being fat is not acceptable. Systematic discrimination of fat people is acceptable. We've all experienced it in some form or other. We've all heard about the trillion dollar diet industry and the outdated and inaccurate insurance/medical stats. We're all fairly confident that it's about money; fashion money, medical money, diet money, fast food money, chemically enhanced farm money and most recently environmentally friendly money. We're all outraged at the airlines for charging fat people more for flights, but clothing companies have charged us more for years. But, of course, everything is and always has been about money. Being fat was acceptable in different periods of history. Big, fat, roly-poly women and men were an outward sign of wealth. Wealth that allowed them to eat more richly prepared foods and hire or enslave others to do all their physical activities (other than the orgies, of course). Now research shows those on the lower end of the economic ladder are fatter, due to the limited food and activity choices. Thin is equated with wealth.

I don't expect people to feel sorry for me because of my weight. I think I have the right to expect that they will not berate me for my weight or make fun of me or judge me for my weight. But they will - my weight is what they see first. I am appalled at the people who feel free to offer me diet and exercise advice. Or to tell me that I am fat - as if I went to bed last night weighing 120 pounds and woke up this morning weighing twice as much. "What? I'm fat you say? Let me see for myself!" That just isn't good manners. But most damaging to us all are the women and men who complain of being fat to solicit compliments or reassurance that they aren't. Many who binge and starve and exercise to extreme or use drugs to build muscle, burn fat or suppress their appetites and may be more unhealthy than I am because of it. For them, they are their body. For me, my body, in all its unacceptable fatness, is what houses me.