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icequeen-shiva · 6 years

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what i need to say to you, as a fat girl.

i’m going to put it under a cut, not because i’m embarrassed but because i know i’m going to get longwinded and i know some people won’t appreciate a gigantic, lengthy post clogging up their dash. and i get that! that’s me sometimes too. it’s cool, fam. it’s... it’s a damn novel. i’m not going to lie. i’m sorry it got so long. there’s a lot of history. but i don’t know how else to make it so clear and understandable without going deep. everything in here is exactly what i want known. so... yeah, it’s long.

i just had my yearly gynecological appoint a week ago. she stressed to me that she couldn't be happier with me, even with my weight. my blood work was, she called it, wonderful. my levels are good! i’m not even close enough to pre-diabetic that she felt a need to caution me. i’m healthy, according to my blood, she said. keep doing what i’m doing, she said, based on science and my blood, not my stomach, where all my weight seems to go. i am blessed that my doctor is kind. she knows that i, and others like me, am doing the best i can to find more healthy and nutritional things that work for me (and while i won’t go into it here, i will say that i have a fucked up home life that doesn’t make it easy). she knows pcos is fighting me every step of the way on losing weight. but she is proud of me and supports me and when she wants to talk about my weight, that is how she addresses it: with positive suggestions, not shaming me, not guilting me into feeling like i’ve done this wrong and disappointed everyone.

yes, i could exercise more. i’m not in shape, but the tests come back that, overall, i’m healthy, but that doesn’t seem to matter, because i’m still fat.

it shouldn’t be this hard to write. i shouldn’t be crying while i write this, but it’s been beaten into me (not literally) since i was a child that i’m not worth it if i’m fat. i went from kindergarten through eighth grade to a very small school (at its largest while i went there, my class had 36 people total) and i lived on the very edge of the district. if a friend wanted to do anything, we had to coordinate with our parents who was going where, whose parents were driving and what time would we get together, what time would someone need picked up, etc. and i was fat. i’ve been overweight since the day i was born, coming out at 10 pounds. i wasn’t into sports, which was absolutely what this school put almost all of its focus on. i was into art, which was the last thing this school put its focus on. i was quiet, i didn’t live in town, i didn’t want to play kickball or basketball at recess, i wanted to sit on the swings and draw. i was the weird kid, and i also happened to be the fat kid in my grade. the only fat kid. so i was an undesirable, and i just... got used to it. i will never forget how sick i felt in seventh grade, in the girls’ locker room after gym one day, when one of the thinnest girls was almost crying about her reflection and how fat she looked. i felt terrible for her, because if she really believed that then that girl needed help, but i also felt absolutely sick and knew i wanted to be annnywhere else but that school with these girls. i was lucky enough that my mom finally agreed to let me go to the school just a hop over the district line for high school. i met the best friend i’ve ever had in my whole life. i met other fat kids. i won the art club scholarship when i was a senior. my entire social existence was not predicated on “she doesn’t live here, she’s an oddball, and she’s fat” for the first fucking time.

but i was still fat in high school, and still pretty weird, i won’t lie, so i was still not the girl asked to any dances. i was never invited to any parties. i’m lucky that i wasn’t bullied for my fatness. a couple underclassmen punks behind me in the hallway tried one time, but at this point, i had perfected my glare and intimidation voice, so when i stopped, turned around, glared, and dared them to say that one more time, they didn’t. i was picked on for my goth aesthetic more than i was my weight, and that was fine. it wasn’t my weight, so i could live with it. i had my friends, i had my art classes, i had english and history where the teachers loved me and how good i was at these subjects. but i never had a date. i never had a first kiss. i never had any of this. i was fat, and i was weird. i’m not blaming it all on my physical appearance. everyone is embarrassingly weird as a teenager, i think, and if you weren’t then you’re lying.

for varying reasons, i didn’t get to go away for college. i went where my parents demanded i go, to a community branch of ohio state, with looming promises of “oh, you can transfer to columbus in a year or two, it’ll be fine” that ended up never happening. it was just like high school all over again. it was so small, and so limited, and so full of the same kind of people i’d been with the last four years already. i was still the fat weird girl. i grew into both of these. i learned to carry them each much better, i started taking theatre classes and auditioning for the plays, i even got the fucking lead in a one season. i was antigone, and i was, for the first time, excited about myself.

it didn’t last, though. the theater kids were, contrary to how they’re depicted so often and what other people’s stories have been, mean. so i left it. i never acted on that campus again. and it hurt like a motherfucker when i reminded myself that i gave up like that. but it was easier to do that. it was easier to take myself out of the spotlight than it was to constantly fight and defend my right to have it just like anyone else. now... there’s a lot of other issues in my life, that i’m not willing to address right now. all of my friends moved a few hours away from me. i’m not exaggerating, though i wish i was. i never ended up leaving. i dropped out of college when my depression was spiraling out of control and i wasn’t reeeeally functioning at all. i still live at home, in this close-minded, rural, midwestern place, because i’m terrified of leaving my mother with her depression that’s much worse than mine has ever been and i have no one in this area at all that i trust enough to be roommates with, and i can’t afford living on my own without that crutch. that’s as far as i’m willing to go. but this-- leaving acting, that i had loved so much-- was really a tipping point into the depression i have struggled with for almost my entire adult life.

and that depression and continued social rejection has really drummed in further i am fat. i have no hope of anyone ever thinking i’m beautiful. no one will ever really be attracted to me. i can fix my face with makeup but i cannot hide my gut, and that will repulse them.

i’m 28 years old and still-- fucking still-- the only time i’ve ever been shown romantic interest, was a joke. the only time someone has ever given me their phone number was a goddamn joke. it was at a restaurant, where i wasn’t afraid to order what i wanted and enjoy eating it, and i probably looked like a pig. i like food. we kind of need it to survive, and if i’m going to a restaurant with my friends, i’m going to get what i want, what sounds good, and enjoy myself with my friends, not get only a small salad because i have to watch my weight and i have to look like the meek, ashamed fat girl who’s trying to do better. i don’t have to look like anything, for anyone. but for a long time after i realized that number was a joke, i stopped doing all of that. i’d barely eat when we went out. i’d cry about it in the bathroom. i’d cry about it in bed. i cried a lot. and i hated myself. i’ve somehow managed to mostly overcome that. but it’s been hard, and let me repeat: i can only say mostly.

so what i really, really need you to know, and this is directed to the tickle community more than it is anyone else right now... this is why, if/when i get suddenly upset about belly tickles; if/when i get very quiet and withdrawn, when my dash is flooded with “ideal” bodies with their cute bellies getting tickled; if/when i get very feet-centric again because, after over a decade of navigating through my kink preferences and finding a place in this community, i’ve convinced myself over and over again that “if you keep it focused on your feet, they won’t notice that you’re fat.” which is ridiculous because in online play, nobody has to know that if i don’t say anything. but i will know. i will always know, when i present myself in rp as some small, cute, only a little bit chubby girl, that i’m lying.

it’s so hard being fat in such a physical kink. so fucking hard. even the plus size girls in the videos don’t look like me. it’s incredibly appreciated, don’t get me wrong, and it’s... it’s not even that i’m ~so big. i don’t look as heavy as i am. i’ve been accused of looking for attention and saying i’m heavier than i really am, when i try to be honest about how much the scale says (which honestly just makes me incredibly paranoid that maybe i have some giant cyst(s) on my ovaries that’s distending everything and heavy af with a bunch of fluid and crap, as is the hallmark symptom of polycystic ovarian syndrome, but that’s another essay). but it’s heavy enough to bother me. and that just gets problematic, because it’s not right of me to think “well, at least i’m not that size,” because the girl that size is having the same struggles as i am, probably.

there’s literally one person i’ve ever spoken to that has told me, and i believe truthfully, they think i’m cute and that i’m worth it. and they live in england, thousands of miles away. and he wasn’t a “chubby chaser,” and i truly believe he wasn’t saying it out of pity. he meant it. but he’s the definition of unattainable.

i need you to understand that you need to be patient with me, if we’re really going to play, because the hardest thing i can do is accept that you don’t think i’m disgusting. because at the end of the day, i can be as confident in my personality and my intelligence and my skills as possible, but i will still look down at my stomach, hanging over the waistband of my pj shorts, and i will still think this is disgusting and it’s no wonder i’m alone.

#this has been a post #holy shit #body positivity #i guess it's positivity???#not really #me #i'm not gonna tag tickling or anything because i don't really need the whole of tumblr to see it? just followers

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