Fat as Protection
May 29, 2010
I’ve been in Italy, with my parents, for a few days now. And immediately memories and experiences I had either forgotten or denied wash over me. The sense of not being safe. The sense of emotional mines that can go off at any moment, with any step.
Of course, my mom as commented frequently daily about my weight gain. And that I knew would be the case. No surprise there. Then, when Richard’s fiance’ (my soon to be sister-in-law) showed up, my mom went out of her way to keep pointing out how thin and beautiful she is. “Why Stefffffy, did you lose MORE weight? You are already so small…. You must be a size 0 by now!” It actually didn’t bother me as much as amuse me. Mom doesn’t realize how much I prefer she give others attention rather than me. Because again, her attention is a minefield of potential explosions and emotional amputations.
And then it hit me. I think I gained all this weight over the past 8 months precisely to protect myself. Even to spite her. It’s my size 16 going on 18 “fuck you” with a smile.
It’s stupid I know. It’s like taking poison and hoping it hurts someone else. But my issues are deep rooted to a two or three year old Char. It’s the best she mustered. I’ve never been as physically fit or happy as when I am totally focused on just me. There is no doubt that in the past year, between my wedding and then Richard’s, my focus has been on time with family. And its inevitable need for defensive shields up maneuvers. And thus, I showed up with over 50 lbs of insulation.
I’m a bit mortified at my own image and at everyone’s reaction to my new bigger broader presence. I’ve had a few moments of self-hatred but for the most part I’ve been apologetic as I’ve agreed with person after person questioning me: “You’ve gained weight haven’t you?!” Awesome.
But here I am. 214 lbs which really is incredible even for me to absorb, even now. I’m feeling insulated but still pissed. I know there are better ways to look out for myself. Being fat is something I’ve learned to do in order to take care of myself, have less expected of me, be given more time to be alone and do my own thing. And my own thing is usually just to read, paint, enjoy life. But being fat robs me of that. It’s not a defense that works. I wonder if now that this trip is here, the threats are in the present… will I be able to return home and lose the weight. Love myself. Stop building up this arsenal. Learn to honor myself and embrace what I deserve while finally accepting that there are healthier ways to keep myself safe.
In the meantime, the part of me that found it necessary to put on this much weight will have to agree, there would’ve been better ways to enjoy myself here in beautiful Europe.
Tomorrow we leave for sunny Sorrento. It’s doubtful I’ll get into a swimsuit. But I will let the beauty of days and nights wash over me. All of me. Best I can. Promised.
