HappyComeLucky

Content Note: body image, taboo, fat.

I’m pretty much always working in who I am and working at my relationship with myself. It isn’t easy. Past trauma means that I often totally disconnect from myself and it takes a lot of my energy not to do that. Disconnected is such an easy place to be. I still relate to others and, outwardly, not a lot changes. It is a huge difference in my existence though. I become less. I’m hollow on the inside. As time goes on, I stop knowing who I really am. I stop seeing me.

One thing about this that can sometimes be very comfortable is that I stop looking at myself. That makes it very easy to forget just how I look and for my view of my body to get filtered in my head until it doesn’t resemble reality. The shock when I am then confronted with reality really jars and sometimes hurts.

Over the last few days, I have been challenging myself to really examine what I change that self-image to and why.

So, first of all, here is the what.

In that image, I’m slightly taller. My breasts a little smaller and definitely a different shape – no nipples pointing to the floor. My belly, whilst not thin, is flatter and does not have the overhang. And, my legs are longer.

There’s more. I have a better chin and neck. I have just visible collarbones and a back that when I arch it, shows form and shapes.

As I write that out, it does weird things to my mind. I know that I do not match that description and yet, it is so familar to me that it feels right. It’s clearly an image that is not me and yet, it’s powerful enough to exist in my mind.

I have challenged it through taking long hard looks at myself etc. It doesn’t rewrite the image in the way that I expected it to. It leaves me feeling betrayed by the real image that I see and by myself. So, as that hasn’t worked, I have been trying something new.

This society really conditions us as to what bodies are acceptable. Clearly my subconscious has absorbed that during my life and uses it in creating that projection. The thing that jars everytime I see myself is that I am fat. Not curvy. Not plump. I am fat. My belly especially has a big overhang and that does not fit with the acceptable part of the mainstream fat positivity and body acceptance movement.

Being fat is taboo. Using fat as a description is taboo. It’s seen as an insult. It is often used as an insult.

If I am going to get to a point where my mental image of me is a closer match to reality, I need to own my shape and that means owning that word.

I have experimented with taking ownership this week. I have taken pictures which I found beautiful and I have tweeted them with the label ‘fat’. It felt wonderful. I paused before I hit tweet as I didn’t know how it would feel. As soon as I hit it, it felt wonderful and it felt truthful.

It was, of course, provocative and I am sorry that it was uncomfortable for some. I didn’t supply anyone with context for my labelling.

I received compliments on both pictures. On both occasions, I also received comments that argued with my label. Either telling me that I am not fat. Or, that I am not fat, I am beautiful. Those comments are exactly why I am challenging myself. When I look at other people, I see beauty. I see beauty in all body types. I don’t see people as fat but beautiful. There is no but in that appreciation in my head (although I do really appreciate butts). If it isn’t part of me when I look at others, why is it so intrinsically built into my response to myself.

For that answer, I go back to all of the conditioning of society, the responses of people over the years and the emptiness of the connection that I have with my real image.

The pictures that I shared were deliberately beautiful. They weren’t taken in a spiteful mood of self-hatred. If I wanted to, I could take the grotesque one but how would that help? This experiment wasn’t about feeding my negativity and producing something that I would feel I have permission to dislike. This experiment was about owning the word ‘fat’ and associating it with beautiful images of myself.

If there is one thing that I would like people to do, it’s to stop responding to the label ‘fat’ with an instant denial that the person could be. Being fat is not bad. The word ‘fat’ is not an insult unless it is made to be one.

I am fat. I am gorgeous. I am wonderful. All of these things are true.