The other day, someone, who I’ve never met, fat-shamed me online.
I’m used to the odd comment on one of my posts that I don’t agree with or that aren’t very positive, normally I just let them go.
The more I thought about this one though the more angry I got.
To be body-shamed at all is unacceptable. To be fat-shamed by a woman, someone who has children, seems almost worse.
Let me make something very clear; I am not ashamed of my body.
My body has done incredible things. My fat body has climbed mountains. My fat legs have run thousands of miles, they have squatted hundreds of kilos. My fat arms have carried babies. My fat brain has created a business that brings happiness and joy to hundreds of people, it has a degree.
My fat body has also been very thin. My fat body has been so thin that my periods stopped. My fat body has been so thin that it’s almost painful to look at some photos of myself.
I know what it feels like to be so insecure that I couldn’t dream of taking my clothes off in front of someone. Guess what, I was ‘thin’ then.
Beauty, intelligence, manners, they’re not depicted by your weight. Maybe you don’t know that.
I might be fat, in your opinion, but I’m not the one abusing someone she’s never met over the internet.
I wonder, if you’ve considered how your words might have effected someone with low self esteem? Probably not.
I wonder, if you’ve considered how your words might have effected someone who was secretly suffering from an eating disorder? Probably not.
I suppose it’s a weird twist of fate that you directed your words at me, because they had no impact on me. I know what it’s like to have an unhealthy relationship with my body, and so when you called me fat I laughed that it was the only insult you thought would hurt me. I know that your words can only have power if I let them, and your words mean nothing to me.
You see, I also have eyes, and a brain as well as fat thighs. I can see that I have gained weight. My brain, it tells me that actually that’s ok, because I’d rather be fat than painfully thin.
My friends, they know I’ve gained weight too. They don’t care, because they aren’t my friends just because I’m a size 8. They’re happy because for a while they thought they might have to stage an intervention.
My boyfriend, well he knows I used to be thin. Thankfully the cellulite and squishy bits I have now don’t bother him, in fact I think he quite likes me. He says I smile more than I did then.
My children, they know I’ve gained weight too. And they’re happy. Because I eat pizza with them now, I take them for ice cream. We don’t say the F word in our house because we don’t rank our self importance based on what we look like.
If my fat photos on Instagram offend you then I suggest you block me. Or stop reading my blog. Me on the other hand, well I know everyone has to start some where, so I’m going to keep posting, keep writing because I know that if what I write resonates with one person, then it’s worth it. Because I’m proud of who I am, I’m proud of the fat me.
I feel sorry for you actually. Messaging someone you’ve never met to tell them they’re fat and desperate isn’t normal behaviour. I wonder how you’d feel if someone did that to you, or your daughter. I wonder how you’d feel if someone questioned whether you’d ever suffered from an eating disorder or poor mental health.
Here’s hoping that in future you engage your brain before you decide to hit send on that message.
And hopefully the next person you decide to insult is as unaffected as I have been.
Because tearing someone to pieces from behind a screen says more about you than it does about them.