01/11/2012 § Leave a comment
Lately, my self-esteem has been pretty terrible. I am not sure what is going on, but it is largely bound up in my conception of my fatness. As much as I acknowledge my fatness, and refuse to believe that I am not fat, lately I have been feeling more than ever that my fatness is under scrutiny. What’s more, I worry that my fatness calls my competence into question. I worry that my ugliness and fatness are inherent in me, that my worth as a human being is lessened. I know people interact with me differently. I am conscious, always, of the tilt of my head and how that impacts my triple chin, how the size of my ass means I bump into chairs and tables in restaurants. I worry that I take up too much space. Then, I don’t eat for two days until my blood sugar crashes, I cry because I hate myself and eat four bowls of ice cream, sobbing over how disgusting I am. I spiral into intense doubt about my academic competence, my ability to make friends, whether I am a good enough spouse.
I am a caricature.
I try to ask myself what it is about fatness and ugliness that is so offensive. Why do I feel like I am too loud, take up too much space, say too many stupid things? Why can’t I seem to internalize the good things about myself?
I could just go on a diet, but I resist that as caving in to some constructed beauty ideal. Either course of action turns me into something loathsome.
Being liked and admired is a pretty basic human desire. In standing at the intersection of fatness and feminism, I am not sure what to do with myself. Where is the fat feminist’s handbook to weight loss?