Fat

When I was in kindergarten I took a ballet class... at the end of the first section of the class, when it was time to sign up for the next term my Mom and I were pulled aside by the teacher. She was talking to my Mom, but I was there and remember the conversation myself, and she said we should not bother to register. In the next segment of the class the children would be buying their leotards and shoes and it would be a waste of my Mom's money. There would be shows and productions but she would not be putting me in them because of my size. There was no point for me to continue.

The rest is not all that clear to me I remember my Mom getting upset... I remember crying because I was looking forward to wearing a tutu .... but not much else.

It wasn't because I couldn't keep up with the class .... or that I lacked skill... it was a completely atheistic decision.

...that is the first time I can remember feeling that I was treated unfairly.

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This is a tricky issue to step into for me... I am full of so much anger and spite and sadness because of it. ... and I don't really want to cover that up in any way...especially not on here .... but it is an emotionally complex issue and I don't know where to start.

People hate me ... at least that is how I feel every time I walk outside the door of my house....
and for years I have said that I hate people.... but the trick in all of this is the word people. When I say the word people I have an unformed mob without a face in my head ... I can't seem to mentally bear the idea of hating individuals even the ones that have been the most cruel. Whenever I think of specific people or stories I start thinking about counter points... reasons for the way they act and respond to me... and as soon as I do that .... it is really hard for me to maintain Hate.... BUT don't get the wrong impression ... it isn't because I'm nice - there is a sort of spinelessness about it. My rage still exists ... I just keep it inside until it leaks out someplace else.

Mom was a buffer for me ... She was very vocal about her pain. She was constantly alert... noticing the horrified looks on the faces of the waitresses before they would seat us in back by the buss boy station... or when she was ignored and not given the proper service at a department store. And I would just roll my eyes and say "oh Mom relax" even though I had noticed the same thing myself... and when I would be treated like shit by my friends she would be angrier and less forgiving than I was. I think I understand why now because of Joe ...
When we were first going out it was really tough... I had built up a fake and boisterous self that I took out in public when I was uncomfortable or when I was mocked... and I couldn't be that gaudy person around Joe ... I didn't want to be ...she was a loud mouth and obnoxious... but things still came up...often ...


I had dealt with them my entire life... but when Joe came along and noticed ... or I told him about it later... He got really angry .....
I tried to say ... no, it's no big deal... but he said this to me,
How are you going to feel when we have a fat little daughter , and people treat her this way.
...and I instantly understood .... I would want to unleash the rage that had been waiting inside of me and crush anyone who fucked with someone I cared about.

and maybe that's how Mom felt .... or maybe she had just had enough ...

BUT,

Mom was a part of the problem too... she did not want to live up to peoples impression of "the fat" so she imposed standards that confused me.

I was not allowed to wear shorts in the summer - because the backs of my rolly polly knees would show.
I could not wear short sleeve shirts or dresses because of similar problems with my elbows.
I couldn't wear shirts that ended above the roundness of my belly... or shoes that looked rolled over.
These were huge issues we would fight for hours about them....
Freshman year of H.S. there was a party ... it was a dance and an open pool and grill out.... we had been fighting for hours because I wanted to wear a t-shirt with short sleeves... I lost that one and ended up wearing something else... but during the 45 minute car ride , while listening to my Walkman and trying to blot out the screaming that was still going on ... It occurred to me that I would be going swimming in the pool in my swimsuit... I was never squeamish about that before but it started sinking in and the thought was kind of sicking ....
by the time I got to school I didn't want to go in the pool.
Mom then gave me a very angry little pep talk about not being ashamed of myself ...and not letting THEM win. ....

and now.... I think of the things that I just stopped doing...
I don't ride a bike in public, or swim or wear shorts....
I won't go into our local ice cream stand if the news van is in the parking lot ... I am afraid I will become the new headless image associated with the obesity epidemic...
I would rather just slip through most things unnoticed ....

but... I'm not really embarrassed of myself ... I can run around the house naked stop by a mirror and take a look and feel just fine....

... but I can't stand to be SO incredibly angry anymore... I can't take hating people, especially if I am not going to confront them as individuals .... grouping them all into the I hate People category is becoming damaging... I see everyone and everything as a threat. so I try to limit my exposure to them.

I somehow haven't stopped liking human beings though... if I see someone make eye contact and smile ... it is still genuine .... but how long will I hold out?

I am having difficulty keeping a balance between the normal defensive actions of a person with respect for themselves and a persecution complex.