J. Friedman Fast

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WARNING: There will be curse words. A lot of them.

I waited over a week to write this, hoping that time would temper what started out as both volcanic anger and overwhelming shame. Although the shame has somewhat abated, the anger has only grown more refined, like a knife that you hone to a keen edge. Still, what I’m posting will be considerably more intelligible and slightly less vulgar than it would have been a week ago.

That’s when the fight started. What it was actually about is completely irrelevant. The climax, however, came when my boyfriend told me that he’d be a lot more attracted to me if I took better care of myself. If I got some exercise and watched what I ate.

Yup. He went there.

I can tell you that he’s still alive. Didn’t harm a hair on his head, I promise. Don’t give me too much credit, however. The only reason he’s not either dead, badly hurt, or at the very least homeless, is because I immediately went into shock. I was Absolutely Incredulous.

I won’t speak for him, make excuses for him, or any of that. I will only speak of the effect on me. I was absolutely crushed. Devastated. Shamed. Resentful. I cried pretty much for the rest of that day, and cried myself to sleep for the next few nights. I didn’t trust myself to speak to him for three days.

Two days after that fight, my boss walked into the office and asked me if I had had breakfast yet. When I said no, he said, “Good! I brought you some.” I was as suspicious as you are right now. He had brought me brown rice cakes and all natural peanut butter, explaining that this was going to be healthier for me than what he usually saw me eating (a whole wheat English muffin and reduced fat peanut butter). “Gluten is no bueno” and blah, blah, blah. Again, I was so stunned I couldn’t even react.

A few hours later, I took my customary lunchtime walk around the downtown park, positively seething with anger. How DARE these people pass judgement on my looks?! Who in their right mind thinks that’s okay, especially with their own girlfriend or co-worker??  These were just some of the thoughts swirling through my brain like hot lava when the worst possible thing happened: the catcalls started. At first I was surprised when I realized they were actually for me. I also realized that the benches along the park trail were almost exclusively occupied with lunching construction workers. (Way to be a cliché, jackasses!) And that made me even more angry, which I didn’t even know was possible at the time.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?!?!

Am I “Fat” or am I “Fine”??? Make up your fucking minds.

What is wrong with this world, when a woman who admits to carrying at least 40 extra pounds can be made to feel horribly inadequate, and also be ogled and objectified? In the same fucking day? I’ve heard that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” bullshit. Fuck that. What ever happened to just keeping your mouth shut?  Minding your own damn business?

When you choose to publish your writing, you take on a certain responsibility to share information. You share content that is relevant to the goals you set for yourself. And you share it in a tone and style that represents you. Of course I knew during that walk in the park that I was going to have to write about this. But I also knew I had to choose what message I wanted to send. Because simple angry ranting just for the sake of ranting is not my style. There is enough negativity in the world and plenty of sources for that sort of thing, for those who are into it. I also knew I had to write about it, not only for my own sanity, but for the other women who deal with this sort of treatment. Some of you every damn day.

So what do I want to say?

When In Doubt, STFU

That one is especially for those construction workers, and anyone else who ogles or catcalls. Just STFU. How old are you? Do you treat your mother, your sister, or your daughter this way, or tolerate anyone else treating them this way? I’m not your girl, not ever gonna be, and it does NOT make a woman feel good to hear your comments or whistles. You’re not “just being friendly.” I’m not your entertainment for the lunch hour. In fact, you are making me feel worse than I already was. So just stop it.

For people like my boss and my boyfriend there are several messages.

Don’t Assume I Don’t Know; You Don’t Know Everything

The first and foremost is that I KNOW. You both assumed that I am not aware of my condition and/or need education on being healthy. But here are the many things of which YOU were not aware:

• I KNOW exactly how I look and how much I weigh. I look in multiple mirrors throughout the day, sometimes naked, often close up. I weigh myself almost every day.
• I KNOW I’d be “so much prettier if” I lost some weight. Duh. But if YOU didn’t notice, I look pretty damn fine the way I look today, too.
• I KNOW I’ll live longer if I take better care of myself, and that I should especially “do it for my children.” Good grief. No one ever said, “Screw my kids! I want to die, and as soon as possible.”
• I KNOW I have to get more exercise to be healthy. What YOU DON’T KNOW is that I’ve been doing just that. You are not there when I squeeze a workout in while my kids are eating dinner or after they have gone to bed. Sure as hell no one else is there when I wake up at 5AM and get a workout in then. You have never joined me on my lunchtime walks of 2+ miles, braving stares and catcalls the entire way. I’m not consistent yet, and as a single mother who works full-time sometimes I am just too damned tired, but to assume that I’m not exercising at all just shows your ignorance and lack of compassion.
• I even KNOW what exercises I should be doing, and how. Because I worked with a personal trainer up to three times a week for almost a year. Because I have good friends who either are personal trainers, or professional or amateur athletes. I’ve already solicited or paid for advice from people who know what they’re doing, and what I should be doing.
• I KNOW exactly what I’m supposed to be eating, and am aware every time I choose to eat differently. I KNOW because I met with a nutritionist every two weeks for a year. I KNOW because I’ve done countless hours of research on nutrition. I KNOW because I subscribe to healthy eating magazines, websites, and cookbooks. I KNOW because I’m bombarded daily with everyone else’s opinions on what everyone should be eating, especially me.
• What YOU DON’T KNOW is that I am an emotional eater, and YOU DON’T KNOW what I’ve battled to even get where I am today. The rapes, by multiple men, multiple times. The nightmares. The friends lost to suicide and drugs. The two divorces. The depression. The sleep deprivation. The cancer scares. Homelessness. Crippling debt. Rejection after rejection after rejection.
• YOU DON’T KNOW how much I’ve achieved in my 41 years, even if physical fitness is not one of them. Owning my own home before I was 28. Two degrees. Two healthy children. A career. Healthy friendships. Acceptance into Mensa. Publishing some of my writing. Reducing my debt, and raising my credit score by over 200 points. There are some things that were more important to me than your opinion of how I look, as it turns out.
• YOU DON’T KNOW that I have asthma and allergies. I take multiple medications a day to keep them under control, and some of them cause weight gain. So a few of these extra pounds are going to have to stay if I’m to keep breathing. There are also going to be times when exercise can’t happen or is cut short thanks to the asthma. I won’t even go into the effects of depression. You can Google that shit for yourself.
• YOU MAY NOT KNOW that you even hurt me, sometimes. I’ve gotten so good at putting on that happy face that it has become a mask I wear at all times. To hide the pain and the shame. But just because you can’t see it, and just because I don’t say it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. Look beyond the surface, though that is obviously not your expertise, is it?
• And for some reason, YOU DON’T seem to KNOW that when you fat-shame me, you discourage me from making progress on being healthy. The depression thing again, and the emotional eating thing. But also just anger and resentment. Who the fuck do you think you are that your opinion of my body is going to motivate me to change it? What gives you the right to judge?
• The most important thing I KNOW is that I may have many reasons for the way I look, but not one of them is an excuse.

Good Intentions Are No Excuse

The next message for you is that your good intentions do NOT justify the hurt you cause. Just ask how many attorneys how many lawsuits were lost by defendants who meant well. Just ask yourself how many relationships are damaged by good intentions that still managed to hurt feelings. Is being right more important than the relationship (working, romantic, friend or other type of relationship)? Remember, if your good intentions cause another person harm, they are not very good after all.

Unsolicited Advice Not Welcome

For many of the same reasons as mentioned above, if no one has asked your opinion, STFU. Very few adults appreciate unsolicited advice. It can fall along a spectrum of mostly harmless, to arrogant, to actually harmful if you give inaccurate or incorrect information. Unless you are actually an expert in a certain area, and unless someone asks you, keep your mouth shut.

Although there are many other possible messages for you, I’ll leave you with just one more, and then you can figure out the rest for yourself.

Encourage & Reward the Positive

If you really want to show your support for someone who is struggling with their weight, there are ways to do so without harsh words and judgments. Here are a few:

• Encourage good habits by noticing them, and then complimenting them or rewarding them when you see them. Examples: “That’s a healthy looking snack!” “Did you just come back from a walk (or gym, etc.)? That’s awesome!” WARNING: Be careful with, “Good for you.” If not careful of tone of voice, it usually comes across as placating or condescending.
• Make sure rewards do not sabotage progress. As in, don’t reward good habits with junk food.
• Set the example. Remember the thing about not throwing stones when you live in a glass house? THAT.
• It’s usually okay to ask someone to participate in a good habit with you. Invite them out for a walk or run, or to share a healthy meal. Just make sure their level of fitness is appropriate to the activity. But NO shaming if they decline. Just keep offering.

So, What Happened Next?

The good news is that both my boss and my boyfriend have been forgiven. You can be assured they both apologized and I am satisfied they understand the depth of their transgressions. You can also be assured that although it seems like shock and awe prevents me from speaking up for myself when things like these happen to me, I know myself well enough to know that I need time to cool off and think before I react. My initial reactions tend to be… oh… excessive. Regrettable. So I’ve learned to give myself the gift of time, especially when someone has hurt me. Maybe that will work for you. Maybe not.

But whether you are a fellow victim reading this, or someone who has made these mistakes, or maybe you’ve even been on both sides of this coin, I hope this post has at least given you some things to think about. As a mother, it makes me think about what I’m going to need to teach both my daughters about this issue. What to tell them about avoiding being on either side of it. What to do if it happens anyway.

Has this ever happened to you? How did you handle it? What do you teach your kids? Please leave a comment. Note: insulting, unsupportive, or otherwise non-constructive comments will be deleted.