Something has been bothering me lately that will probably follow me for the rest of my life. It's the fact that no matter how much weight I lose or how in shape I am, I will always maintain my Fat Girl Mentality. Back in 2008, I was a Fat Girl. I weighed in at over 200 pounds and that was a lot for my frame to being carrying around, so the 60 or so pound loss I experienced over the next couple of years, coupled with incorporating a gym routine over the last year has changed my appearance and mind set drastically.
My own personal Fat Girl Mentality really came to light when my boyfriend and I went to Six Flags last week. As we were getting on the Ferris Wheel, I became slightly panicky thinking, "Oh no, the side I'm sitting on is going to droop more than his because I'm a Fat Girl and he is a Skinny Guy. This is so embarrassing." Then it hit me - my boyfriend weighs more than I do. By at least 20 pounds. My paranoia was completely unfounded.
I walked around the amusement park all day, sucking in my gut and pulling my shorts down over my thighs because I was maintaining my Fat Girl Mentality, regardless of the fact that I was disgusted by a lot of other people walking around - men with giant bellies protruding over waistbands, people literally squeezing in and out of the seats on the rollercoasters, little girls in skin tight tank tops clinging to their chubby rolls. (I no longer have rolls when I'm standing up, but I definitely do when I'm sitting down - but we all do, it's pretty much a fact of life no matter what shape or size one is. Plus I was taught to dress to flatter my shape and hide the unsavory parts - something a lot of people must have forgotten how to do.)
I felt pangs of guilt as I munched on a chicken panini sandwich while my boyfriend, who wasn't feeling well, tried to choke down a soft pretzel. I felt pangs of guilt as the sweat trickled down my neck and back while waiting in line for the Batman ride, because we all know that fat people sweat just because they're fat. I felt pangs of guilt as I chugged a bottle of Coke to get some sugar in my system when I started to feel lightheaded because of the heat.
It leads me to wonder if these feelings will ever go away. Will I ever be able to be 100% confident about who I am and how everyone else perceives me? Part of me wonders why I even care - most people seem not to. I walk around wondering if others are dying on the inside the way I do sometimes.
When you've been a Fat Girl or a Fat Guy at some point in your life, it's hard to be happy about the healthy changes you've made, no matter how many people tell you how great you look or ask you what your secret is. Now I'm starting to understand why people succumb to eating disorders. The media bombards us with the notion that we will never look good enough, we will never be pretty or attractive or thin enough, and it's easy to forget that Photoshop is king in the advertising world. (I have plenty to say about that, but another time.)
Sure, I go around saying that I don't deny myself simple pleasures on occasion like a bar of Hershey's chocolate or a fresh, crusty roll from Serpe's Bakery here in Wilmington, because if I did I would go insane. I go around saying, "Don't take my carbs away! I can't live without them!" Even my boyfriend tells me (jokingly, I hope) that if I lose too much weight he would break up with me. He was attracted to me from day one, as were plenty of other men - when I was twenty or thirty pounds heavier. And he supports my quest to be healthier, my quest to be able to run up the stairs to his apartment without becoming winded, my quest to be able to chase my nephew around and not want to collapse from exhaustion.
But the Fat Girl Mentality is still ruling me and I wonder if it will ever go away. I don't want it to be the reason I strive to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I want to maintain a healthy lifestyle so that I'll be around for a while, so that I won't succumb to weight-related diseases when I'm older, so that I can climb on top of my boyfriend and rock his world without thinking twice. I want to do it for me and no one else.
Same Advice, Different Perspective
Last week I had to give an exit interview, something I was completely unprepared for but one of my supervisors was kind enough to give me the rundown beforehand. I was asked to give three positive points of my experience with this company and three negative ones. I was asked if my "new" job is one I sought out or if it came to me, about how my supervisors handled the department, etc, etc.
It was a piece of cake for the most part, I mean, the reason I'm leaving has nothing to do with the company - it's a personal decision. I thought what my career life needed was 40 hour weeks, HR departments, repetition, but I was wrong. I thought I could handle not going into work until 12:30 and getting home anywhere between 9 and 10 at night. I was wrong. I thought I wouldn't miss being behind the camera, but I was wrong.
I explained all of this to Pat, the woman who conducted the interview and we ended up spending more time talking about photography and art than we did discussing technicalities. She told me stories of her sister's husband's father who made his living with a photography business. Her cousin was an Allstate insurance agent for 30 years before selling his business and pursuing his true passion, which was oil painting. She said he would go through phases where he'd go to work, go home, paint all night, and do it all over again, day after day. Then he sold his business and moved to Florida, then wound up in New York City, and is still exploring his artistic passion.
Then she told me about a friend of her's that lived in Ohio. When it came time for her son to have his senior portraits done, she tracked down a photographer who could give them something different (very common in the Midwest - hiring a different photographer other than the one the school uses to get more out of the experience.) One day not long after her son had his portraits done, the woman dropped dead from some sort of aneurysm. Pat looked at me and said, "I said all of that to say this, something my mother told me time and again - you never know when it will all be over. You have to live in the moment, because before you know it, it could all come to an end."
I said, "That's exactly what my own mother tells me. I have the hardest time with it, and am working hard at not over-thinking the past or the future, but concentrating on the present. I have all the reason in the world to, especially when I think of what my own family has gone through."
"You're doing just that by going back to your passion."
I could have cried.
It was a piece of cake for the most part, I mean, the reason I'm leaving has nothing to do with the company - it's a personal decision. I thought what my career life needed was 40 hour weeks, HR departments, repetition, but I was wrong. I thought I could handle not going into work until 12:30 and getting home anywhere between 9 and 10 at night. I was wrong. I thought I wouldn't miss being behind the camera, but I was wrong.
I explained all of this to Pat, the woman who conducted the interview and we ended up spending more time talking about photography and art than we did discussing technicalities. She told me stories of her sister's husband's father who made his living with a photography business. Her cousin was an Allstate insurance agent for 30 years before selling his business and pursuing his true passion, which was oil painting. She said he would go through phases where he'd go to work, go home, paint all night, and do it all over again, day after day. Then he sold his business and moved to Florida, then wound up in New York City, and is still exploring his artistic passion.
Then she told me about a friend of her's that lived in Ohio. When it came time for her son to have his senior portraits done, she tracked down a photographer who could give them something different (very common in the Midwest - hiring a different photographer other than the one the school uses to get more out of the experience.) One day not long after her son had his portraits done, the woman dropped dead from some sort of aneurysm. Pat looked at me and said, "I said all of that to say this, something my mother told me time and again - you never know when it will all be over. You have to live in the moment, because before you know it, it could all come to an end."
I said, "That's exactly what my own mother tells me. I have the hardest time with it, and am working hard at not over-thinking the past or the future, but concentrating on the present. I have all the reason in the world to, especially when I think of what my own family has gone through."
"You're doing just that by going back to your passion."
I could have cried.
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