Owner- Oh, you're from Scunny? I'm from Messingham!
Me- Cool. I used to go running there.
[the guy looks me up and down in a way that made me feel particularly uncomfortable and way more like the lesbian feminist that I am]
Owner- Looking at you, I assume you stopped running?
Me- Jesus. Are you implying I'm fat?
Owner- Hey, you said it, not me!
[I exit and find a corner to have a quick cry in. Eventually, with the help of my girlf, I calm the fuck down, hold my head up high, and begin to leave]
Owner- I'm sorry, but you're the one who said you were fat.
Me- Seriously, I'm recovering from anorexia and I really did not need to hear that. You need to watch what you say to people because-
Owner- I'm sorry.
Owner- It was you who said it though, so you can't get offended.
The whole exchange has left me rattled all week. On one hand, I'm revolted because I'm not sure I've been called fat (to my face at least) in 10 years, and I really am at my highest ever weight. On the other hand, I'm more revolted that the idea of being fat horrifies me so much. How shallow and vain and horrible does that make me? What am I so afraid of?
And why? Why is being fat the thing I fear most?
The answer is... it's really not. Being fat is not my biggest fear at all. But it is the easiest to cope with and the easiest to 'fix'. The things that really scare me- the past repeating itself, esp in the sense of abuse; nobody loving me enough to rescue me from a fire; taking up more space and energy than I deserve; being an altogether Bad Person- are harder to face and more abstract than spending a week obsessing about what a stranger thinks about my weight.
Eating disorders are never just about weight. They're mostly about pooling obsession into something that you can really dig your claws into. They're the ultimate red herring. Even in recovery, I worry about my weight most when I'm trying to avoid worrying about something else.
I'm beyond tired of battling myself.
There is nothing wrong with being fat.