They called me a fat bitch so that’s what I became.

Before writing the story of how I lost weight, I thought I’d write the story of how I gained weight.

The first time I was called fat or the first time that I remember being called fat, I was around four years old. I remember bringing breakfast in bed to my Mum on Mother’s Day. I was so excited to see her open the crappy mug I had made at school and sip the lukewarm tea I had made using tap water. Obviously, being four, I was not allowed to use the kettle. I was also not a tea drinker and I didn’t see the difference between boiled water and tepid water from the tap. It’s all water, right?

My father was hung over. Or still drunk. It’s hard to tell. It’s hard to remember. He didn’t want an overexcited child wriggling around on the bed like a puppy on a Sunday morning. He told me firmly to leave.
“But I want to see Mum open the present that I made her!” I protested.
“Fuck off, you fat bitch”, he scowled at me.

I was shocked. I didn’t really understand what it meant but I knew that it was bad.

I looked over to my Mum but she didn’t say anything for fear of incurring his wrath.

I slinked off back to my bed with my tail in between my legs.

I was a bad girl. I was a fat bitch. I didn’t deserve to be spoken to nicely.

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Around the time that I was first called a fat bitch.

After that, the “fat bitch” taunts happened on a regular basis. It was usually my father and his family. Then I started hearing it from kids at school. I was already bullied for having disabled brothers. I already comfort ate because of my brothers. If my peers thought I was a fat bitch, who was I to disagree?

I was a bad girl. I was a fat bitch. I didn’t deserve to be spoken to nicely.

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Fat bitch.

I was never a sporty child, I was more into reading and writing. But I never hated sports at first, until I started getting bigger.

I remember one time in sports class, the teacher picked a friend of mine to be the team captain. This meant that she got to choose who was on her team. She wasn’t a fat bitch (like me) but she was a bit of a loser, like me. We had always promised each other that if we were team captains, we would immediately choose each other first. We would never be chosen first any other time.

We shared a quiet, secret smile. As Cece Peniston sang “finally it has happened to me. Right in front of my face and I just can not hide it”.

My friend picked first. And she didn’t pick me, she picked a popular sporty girl who hated us. I don’t know how to express how I felt. It was a weird mixture of wanting to cry and wanting to throw up.

This was my one chance to be picked first and my friend still didn’t want me.

I wasn’t her second pick, either. I was the left over one that was shuttled to her team. She didn’t see the problem. I was on her team, after all.

A guy on my team looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Fat bitch”, he scowled.

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Why try at sports when people thought I was going to fail anyway?

Why be anything but the fat bitch that people said I was?

My ambivalence about sports turned into a total hatred. As I was becoming bigger, it was more of a strain to be physical. I couldn’t run. Most of all, I didn’t want to try.

If I breathed too hard in sports, people would know it was because I was fat. If my face went bright red while the other girls still had perfect hair and make-up , people would know it was because I was fat.

It didn’t take long before I had an excuse for every sports and swimming class. I don’t know how many periods I had when I was thirteen, the teachers probably thought that I was haemorrhaging.

And when people realised I was fat and mentioned it to me*, I was ready with a biting insult.

Hey, I was already fat. I may as well fulfill my destiny and be a bitch too, right?

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Me during my fat and sassy phase. Basically the sassy girl emoji but with a double chin.

Now I look back and I’m angry that someone would dare call a four year old fat.

I’m angry that as someone who likes to go the gym everyday that people stole away years of enjoying sports and physical activities.

I’m angry that I listened to them and let them dictate who I should be.

I’ll be who I want to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*A lot of people, teenage boys in particular like to point this out. Most people are aware of their weight. Thanks teen boys, we’ll take it from here. Go touch your weenie and your one pube.

 

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