JOURNAL - The Fat Girl's Guide to Loving Your Body - entry 2

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OK, onto entry 2 - Messages.

I already started listing some of those in the last entry. But it's a whole can of worms which extends far beyond the realms of the weight issue alone.
General unworthiness was created by such gems as my father's, "You're alienated." - oh, there was a whole rant on that one.

Let's see... more horrific things at school. I changed to a private school where the girls teased me for sounding "common". I had elocution lessons. Changed school, got teased for wearing hairspray!? And I was still getting called beanpole - that followed me around. See, girls are the meanest. I don't know if I sparked jealousy and that's why they lashed out. I've never actually been vain; if anything I thought I was gawky looking.
All the while horrific things were happening at home.

I then changed school yet again, and ended back in the state sector. They teased me for sounding posh - can't bloody win!?

(NOT me)

Let's fast forward a bit to my first husband.
I became a model and suffered abuse there too.

Interesting story - others told me I'd never be a model so I did it just to stick my fingers up at them in a big 'fuck you'! All those bullies at school - I was making a success out of the very thing you teased me about - double fuck you!
Every authority figure who abused me or bullied me - go to hell, I don't need you and I'm gonna prove it!

I was molested in a public lift shortly after I began modelling. I had to go back to the same location the next day and wore my baggiest, ugliest jumper (despite being a hot summer's day), zero makeup - I looked a mess. Know what? I still had a couple of guys catcalling me in the street!!

I was out with my friend one day. She later told me she noticed because she's fat and nobody looked at her that way. But she pointed out that every male we walked past ogled me. I'd got to a point I didn't even notice. I tried to walk along not making eye contact.
Honestly, I'm like a weirdo magnet. I avoided going out on my own. Of course, the husband added to that paranoia - over-protective is a nice way of putting it. Narcissist may be more accurate though.

One employer told me off for flirting with a customer I was selling to. I didn't think I was, but apparently it's something I do naturally. She made me feel bad about it. Terrible. I tried closing myself down that little bit more. Oh, is that more self-loathing? (*laps it like a kitten with milk*)
Poor young, beautiful woman! I want to hug her so bad!! Just one grain of kindness would've been nice. Enough to save her. Oh, there were times she so badly needed saving and got nothing but kicks. There were times she very nearly didn't make it and only fate (whatever name you choose) saved her from the dark abyss. I'm talking in the third person now. Yeah, it all feels like it happened to someone else. Echoing down the annals of time.

"You have to suffer to be beautiful," my mum used to tell me as she yanked a brush through my hair.
Nobody ever said I'd suffer because I was beautiful!

Not long after all that I began putting on weight - a security blanket. If I was no longer skinny I'd be ugly according to their logic. I'd be undesirable.
All the time I was shrinking further into myself on the inside, I was cushioning the outer layer - I was gonna hide beneath so many layers even I'd never see myself! I'd become invisible. Stop looking at me!!
This wasn't a conscious decision or even thought. It just sort of happened.
And boy, did the husband have stuff to say about it! He'd moan at me for eating crisps, tell me point blank I was fat. Guess he didn't want his trophy wife "going to rack and ruin" or "becoming a pig".

Model agents had already demeaned me to my lowest point - they're not backwards in coming forwards, pinpointing all your tiniest flaws, why you're unworthy of that casting/job. Seriously, nitcpicking, seeking out any areas of insecurity like heat-seeking missiles and finding their target - obliterating any shred of self-respect you may have still been foolishly clinging onto! Models aren't people, they're walking coat-hangers. Verbal and physical abuse - the industry has it all!

I digress. What I mean to point out is that when the husband belittled me it was almost expected. Everybody else had always criticised my appearance - this was just my life. I knew no different.
Fuckers!!!

As that marriage went into steep decline I ironically lost over a stone without trying - stress had rendered me incapable of eating. Oh, if only I'd still been modelling - I got back down to an unhealthy UK size 8 - I would've been in great demand - pale, bony, drawn!? Bitter? Me?? Pshaw!

Anyway, some traumatic turmoil later, I found Hubby (husband no.2). Oh, he filled me with joy. Aher, and food. I was happy and I happy ate. Only Hubby doesn't mind me being chubbly so didn't say a word.
I ate my way up to a UK size 16 (US 14/EU 44).
I'm probably jumping ahead of myself now. But This was when I tried on a dress that made me cry. It was an empire line which should flatter my pear shape. It didn't! It literally made me look pregnant.

Oh, and my young step-daughter asked if I was pregnant. As did my brother who I'd not seen for a while. No, just fat, thanks for asking. Girl, I can understand; she was very young and had no filter, plus she kinda hoped I was. Brother? Wanker! The lady at work who asked the same? Just bitch! She actually asked with malicious intent. I think even my gran even asked the dreaded question too.

(not me either)

As a former model, my looks had become my earning ability.
Others had always treated me differently judged on my appearance.
I NOW JUDGED ME!
I was holding myself up to what society told me I should look like. And I found myself lacking, or rather, excessing!? (totally a word!)

Can you see how fucked up I was?
Phew, was I too skinny? Too fat? Too...whatever? For fuck's sake!!
According to "them" I've been both in my life. "They" made me unhappy either side of the scale. Even when I'd managed to find the happiness my life had been lacking for 27 years, weight knocked me on my arse.
Do you know how infuriating that is? To finally, finally, after a life filled with torment, to finally find joy only to have yourself get in your own way?
AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!

CAN I NOT JUST BE HAPPY FOR ONE DAMNED MINUTE?
You know what? The answer is yes. But that really is jumping ahead. And I've waffled enough for one blog post.
Suffice it to say I've had a LOT of negative messaging about my weight on each side of the scales.


Always in love and light,
TL