I’m having a fat day.
Or rather, a fat week. Fat fortnight? It’s been a while. I’ve slid up a jeans size about a month earlier than usual – winter hibernation does tend to stretch the wardrobe after all – and everything about my body feels…off.
I just feel fat.
But can I say this to anyone at all, ever? Hell to the no. If those words escape my lips or fingers, it gets me jumped all over in a number of ways: loving, patronizing, condescending, jealous, feminist, fatist, HAES-ist. Seems like everybody’s got a comeback.
You’re not fat – you’ve got such a great figure.
You’re not fat – you wear single-digit clothes.
You could work out more or eat less.
You’re being too hard on yourself.
You’re turning “fat” into a dirty word.
You’re supporting the oppression of male gaze.
You’re not fat enough to be our ally.
In the past, I readily accepted this sort of chastisement as reassurance and/or as correcting my straight-sized privilege. But it wasn’t until very recently that I realized what we actually have here is a failure to communicate. I’m getting alternately soothed and attacked because the words aren’t translating. It’s like I’m a Norwegian in a British tobacco shop; I think I’m asking for a pack of smokes, but I actually said, “My hovercraft is full of eels.” What? Exactly.
Let me ‘splain.
Three simple words – “I feel fat” – is a true statement of my current emotions. Not a factual statement about the physical state of my meatform.
I said it repeatedly when I was under the evil sway of ED, hovering around 120lbs and working out five days a week. I said it when I weighed my heaviest – on my wedding day. Actual appearance, measurements, and, hell, reality, has nothing to do with the utterance of that phrase. It’s a cognitive and emotional dissonance between how my body feels to me when everything’s in sync and when it’s gone wrong.
Feel. That’s the key. I feel fat.
When I’ve got my shit together, I can tell.
Regardless of how much the scale says I weigh, my body fits me. My skin holds me perfectly, my muscles slide easily, my energy is stable, my food cravings are clean. I feel strong, vibrant, confident. We’re one unit – body and Self. I breeze through the day knowing this little critter I get to run around in is happy and healthy, whatever my pants size.
Sometimes the harmony breaks down, though.
The system isn’t perfect – I have a sweet tooth, don’t like to exercise, and can’t say “no” to relatives offering food as a show of love. That mis-care of my godpod adds up, and I get bloated, dehydrated, sluggish, and depressive. A divide forms. Suddenly, I’m not a person, I’m a Self in someone else’s body. Like trying to dance to music that’s constantly and randomly lagging – I’m familiar with the tune, but the flow is gone.
“I feel fat” is not a demonization of fatness.
I’m not equating being fat with badness – that’s just wrong, ignorant, and hateful. It’s also a whole other conversation that I’m not touching on here because I could fill a book. The phrase is an apt one, though – the psychological sensation of being abruptly two sizes bigger is disorienting and angstifying.
The trouble is the difference between intention and reception. When I say, “I feel fat,” what most people hear is, “Please reassure me that I’m pretty enough for your standards,” or on the other end of the spectrum, “I want you to feel bad about your body because I feel bad about mine.” And what I really mean is, “My body and I aren’t getting along today” or “I feel crappy because I ate too many rolls and drank too much wine.”
Saying, “I feel fat” is the sadly inaccurate verbal translation for the untranslatable feeling of separation between “I fit in my body” and “something feels wrong.”
It’s incredible to me that I’m at this place where there’s a difference. For the better part of a decade, those three little words held all my self-hatred and perceived unworthiness. They’re why I looked into liposuction at 22 and helped me starve myself. They made it easy to poison my body with laxatives and dangerous weight-loss drugs.
To be standing here at nearly-age 29 and be able to say, with every grain of truth, that my “fat days” are a passing emotional blip is giving me choked-up chills. It is such a relief.
It’s one of my dearest wishes that those still stuck in that place where “I feel fat” is a cry for help or a scathing self-admonition can find this place, too. To understand the discrepancy between emotional reaction and physical reality.
But it’s one day at a time, remembering that your body is a holy vehicle, that you get to choose your thoughts, that the ungainly feelings are temporary, that a scale isn’t the arbiter of health or awesomeness.
Fatness – of any definition- is no cause for self-hate.
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Oh. This is GORGEOUS. I have only so very recently realized that my 'I feel fat' days are, like you say, blip-days on my emotional radar. If I FEEL fat, that means there is something in me that needs addressed, loved-up, taken care of. And so I am learning to do that.
Exactly! Yes, have the Fat and Ugly days, where neither may be true but that is how I feel at the moment.
I believe I understand what you're saying here. I'm fat. More than just a little (although not as much as you'd think). I AM fat all the time, but only sometimes do I FEEL fat. I had a fat day yesterday, where I was painfully aware of all the places that were filled with body that weren't supposed to be (or, to be more accurate, I just noticed for a change); where I couldn't figure out how to walk right to support my weight, and I just felt… misshapen? Oh, this is harder than you made it look! But it's definitely a "my body doesn't fit right anymore" kind of feeling. Today I'm feeling much better, more "in my skin" than yesterday. So, yeah. I think I get it.
Thanks for posting this, Ellie. I always admire your willingness to be vulnerable – to loving and to attack and to misunderstanding.
I do feel fat. I do feel jiggly. But I look great in my clothes. When I say I feel fat, I have gotten absolutely VENOMOUS looks. It always made me feel wrong, like I should be glad I'm not 300 lbs or glad I'm not back in the day when I would feel like screaming and crying from trying on what felt like the entire collection of jeans in Walmart, actually CHARTING what I tried on so I could figure out which kind and size would actually fit.
I'm lucky to be the size I am. I'm doing everything right to be obese. I acknowledge that good fortune.
But I'm pretty done with people giving me for-shit looks about this whenever I say that I feel overweight. I don't bother saying it much anymore for that reason and just because I don't see a reason to complain about it. If someone objects or gives me a dirty or exasperated look, I follow up with something to the tune of "I've gotten some pretty evil looks when I've said I feel fat. I finally came to realize that it's MY body, I feel the way I feel, and it doesn't matter how anybody else feels about MY body." So THERE! Harrumph!! ^__^
Man, you've summed up my feelings about this perfectly. As I get older (and I'm almost 10 years ahead of you Ellie), my petite frame has added a few pounds… not enough to make me "fat" by social standards, but it feels different for ME… and when I say those words "I feel fat" it is a way of expressing that disconnect. I've learned not to say it to anyone but myself though because the backlash is worse than how I'm feeling…
What I want when I say those words is a hug and some dang compassion that I'm feeling out of sorts. I'm smart enough to figure out that the problem is too much sedentary living and eventually I even realize it's my internal compass saying "hey, we're an active person who isn't listening to our internal desire to move." At the moment though, I don't need a lecture… I love this 38 year old body… it's laid out three kids and stayed fairly healthy even when it had every reason to break down… I realize I'm blessed, but even the most fortunate have a bad day!
Anyway, thanks for putting into words something I've been feeling for awhile.
I usually say "my skin doesn't fit today" because on days like that I feel like I am wearing a sweater that's too small.
That's for sharing this – it's important and I'm glad it's been said.
When I read it, I had a specific "hidden meaning" behind the words too; but not the same ones as mentioned here,
As soon as I read "I'm having a fat day", I translated it as "I'm fighting the urge to binge or purge" or "I'm having a day where i'm fighting ED'd triggers", essentially because that's how I've most often heard that phrase, used that phrase – that's what it's meant to me or the people around me.
I like the way you use it, and I think it's just as accurate; for me, having been drawn into the world of ED, I'd say the "fat day" label is often given to the days when you're struggling to let intellect take over the feeling – to know X pounds isn't heavy, and that eating Y won't cause harm to my body; – and to let that beat the voice inside or the body's reaction of "no, dont eat. ever. not again. nothing".
The "I feel fat" is something I just don't say to anyone but my two best friends because of the backlash – and I agree with your view on that.
it's interesting how having "common language" is meant to bind us but so often means people assume they've understood correctly.
Thanks again fro sharing this, and apologies for my waffle =P
Oh, how eloquent is the phrase 'my body and I aren't getting along today'.
The tricky part with this one, of course, is that sometimes ppl (and I'm looking at some of you, gals) actually do want an affirmation of their prettiness/non-fatness/etc. Some of us are, in fact, trained not to say 'oh, I'm feeling a bit insecure about my body today, would you be a dear and remind me I'm actually quite nice-looking?'. As we all know, stating what you'd like or what you need is still frowned upon, especially for girls.
Or how our communication has a huge potential to be improved.
I definitely think that a lot of folks still use \”I feel fat\” to get attention/reassurance rather than to express a stressful physical state they don\’t have the right words to express. To me, that\’s just a few steps behind where I\’m talking about on the continuum of healing from body issues; generally speaking, most people are working on getting past asking for attention that way because they don\’t want to feel like that anymore. It\’s mightily important to encourage new understanding and new language as we progress on that journey, and some folks just don\’t have it yet.
But you\’re right – it is hard to ask for what you really want or say what you really mean in a lot of circumstances. We (not just women) have been well-trained to use what\’s essentially code when we talk about our needs and feelings, which results in crossed signals, manipulative games, and general resentment or misunderstanding. There is TONS of room for our communication to improve, and I think it\’s especially vital for folks who are dealing with Self issues.
Thanks for chiming in and pointing this part out, my dear! Always happy to talk about communication and language in more depth.
Update/amendment/edit:
Holy balls. Thank you all so very, very much for sharing your own experiences with “I feel fat” and for letting me know that I’m not a crazy loser jerk. This is a hard fight for all of us, and any time we can find even a brief moment of recognition in another’s struggle, it makes it easier to keep going and to win.
There have been some quiet, private rumblings about this post that I’d like to address. Mostly because I have a ton to say about the topic, but also because I know those rumblings will come out sooner or later – posts like this don’t go unnoticed. I’m far from ashamed of what I’ve written in this essay, but I want to clarify a few things.
It’s important to remember that not only is this article a statement from my own experience, but that acknowledging a different intention behind saying “I feel fat” is just one of many (seemingly endless) stepping stones on my journey out of body dysmorphia, disordered eating, and self-hate. I don’t say “I feel fat” every day or even every month anymore; I don’t hear it the same way from others; and it doesn’t mean the same thing to me as it did a year ago. This is my own progression (and, from the comments, that of others of all sizes) from a very literal expression of fatness = badness into a healthier place where it’s a matter of learning new vocabulary for the psychological discrepancy. It’s a stop-gap between verbal self-flagellation and the next step: finding more accurate, loving ways to express the feeling of body-wrongness. This step, therefore, is not the end.
On the other, more philosophic side of the coin, though, I know that, no matter the actual intention behind the words, “I feel fat” is a representation of fat-hate of some grade. I’m not defending the phrase as okay to say because I feel differently about it than someone else. The goal for me – and, I think, for all of us who value body-acceptance and -love – is to eradicate the use of “fat” as a way of conveying distress, hate, and fear. Trouble is that extremely few people wake up one day and say, “I’ll never say anything about being fat again because it might hurt someone’s feelings when I say it about myself.” Change (personal and societal) comes in stages, not in an enlightened avalanche – it’s one day, one word, one feeling at a time. It’s a process of fostering understanding, learning new expressions, and yes, changing intentions.
Because intentions are important. In any circumstance, I think it’s a grievous mistake to write off the speaker’s genuine, heartfelt meaning because you hear something different. That’s your experience, knowledge, and struggle coming into the conversation, and it’s just as important for you to own that as it is for the “I feel fat” person to be clear on their meaning. That’s why I said it’s about communication early in the original post. What I’m saying and what you hear could be chasms apart; in order to correct the problem, we have to talk about it, why it exists, what we mean when we say things, and how to get better. Hence this post.
Fat acceptance, health at every size, and body-love are dear to my heart – yes, even as a straight-sized person. Yet, opening my mouth/computer to talk about my struggle with self-hate in any form other than “party-line” testimony often gets me in trouble. But, to be perfectly honest, I’ve stopped caring. I don’t need the various body movements to approve of my story. There’s a deep, long, complicated conversation to be had about every facet of body-relationship, and I could write a book on the years I’ve been a slave to a broken one; it’s hard to capture every nuance in a blog post. But I try because I desperately believe that talking about the ugly in-between parts of recovery – not just the tragic beginnings or the triumphant endings – is how we will heal ourselves and the world.
This is interesting to me, and I’ve been trying to gather my thoughts to explain why. I think a lot of my thoughts about this has absolutely nothing to do with the word “fat” at the end…
I have learned over the years that sometimes I need to preface what I say to my other half with “I am about to talk about how I feel. I am aware that how I feel, and fact, are not always the same” and then go on to tell him how I feel useless/rubbish/pointless/insert string of other negative things here. If I don’t do that, we get into an argument (which does not help!) about how I am not these things, and how I am horrible for calling his wife such things. Which does not help what I *actually* need help with, which is working out why I *feel* these things as opposed to whether I *am* or not.
(Sorry for continued comment, I am having trouble posting!)
I guess we all have a different language to express these signs of distress – on a personal level, mine usually start with “I feel so useless” and then spiral out into physical things, but all of us are different. This is, to me, a post about how we should be able to say “I don’t **feel** right” rather than anything at all to do with size.
But we all bring our own interpretations and baggage to everything
)
@Creaky_Girl's comments are continually eaten by this site, so I'm copying the approved comment from my dashboard here so y'all can see it. Sorry, Creaky! <3
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This is interesting to me, and I’ve been trying to gather my thoughts to explain why. I think a lot of my thoughts about this has absolutely nothing to do with the word “fat” at the end…
I have learned over the years that sometimes I need to preface what I say to my other half with “I am about to talk about how I feel. I am aware that how I feel, and fact, are not always the same” and then go on to tell him how I feel useless/rubbish/pointless/insert string of other negative things here. If I don’t do that, we get into an argument (which does not help!) about how I am not these things, and how I am horrible for calling his wife such things. Which does not help what I *actually* need help with, which is working out why I *feel* these things as opposed to whether I *am* or not.
I guess we all have a different language to express these signs of distress – on a personal level, mine usually start with “I feel so useless” and then spiral out into physical things, but all of us are different. This is, to me, a post about how we should be able to say “I don’t **feel** right” rather than anything at all to do with size.
But we all bring our own interpretations and baggage to everything
)
Thank you for adding your clarifying comment, Ellie. I had this big long response typed up last night but couldn't figure out how to wrap it up and the phrasing was still off, so I chose not to post until today. And I'm glad I did, because you've addressed some of my concerns. That said, the one thing I haven't yet seen addressed by you or anyone else here, and one of the major reasons I have problems with "I feel fat" as shorthand for "My body is feeling wrong today", is about being a fat person on the receiving end of that sentence.
It can be incredibly painful, as a fat woman, to hear your friends say "I feel fat" in a way that clearly denotes a negative situation (whether that's the usually-assumed sort of "ew, fat" negative, or your more specific "wrong in one's body" negative). When you, or any other woman who does not get read as "fat", says "I feel fat" to indicate your dissatisfaction with the way your body feels right now, I hear "I feel like I look like you, and that's a bad thing." It becomes a painful reminder that even my friends may well see my body as a negative attribute, even though they love and care about me as a person. It really fucking hurts. And to put it bluntly, it's pretty annoying, too – okay, you (general not-fat person saying "I feel fat") feel fat, and I respect that this is *your feeling*. I won't argue with you about it. But you feeling fat doesn't get you mooed at when you eat in public, doesn't get you total strangers concern-trolling you about your "health" in public, doesn't get you patronizing "good job!"s if you eat a salad in public because they assume you're doing it as part of a weight-loss diet (no, jerkface, I just like salad sometimes, okay? Besides, it's not remotely healthy with the amount of dressing and cheese and bacon I smother it in.) It doesn't get you treated with outright hostility from your doctors, doesn't make it nearly-impossible to find cute affordable clothes in your size.
So when I hear someone say "I feel fat" without immediately having the kind of explanation you've written here to tell me that they mean it as shorthand for something more complicated, I think "Okay, but the world is still going to treat you better than me, no matter how fat you *feel*." (And it's usually followed by some form of "so STFU" depending on my relationship to the speaker.)
I will also add that my disapproval of "I feel fat" as a phrase despite the intentions behind it isn't about my feelings or experience or me bringing my struggle into the conversation. It's about social context and reifying oppressive structures. It's about reality, and that's not something I can or should be expected to "own". So while I recognize and respect your intentions were not harmful, well…intentions aren't magic, sad to say. (Wouldn't it be easier if they were?)
Anyway. Thank you for being so honest and open about this, and holding a space for us to have a conversation about it like this.
I was wondering if/when I\’d get to see your comments on this, darling! You and I often have conflicting viewpoints on advocacy and ally issues, and I deeply value the insight and perspective you bring to our conversations about society for that very reason. Having multiple views on a subject – especially one as heated as this – is important for both understanding and pursuit of change.
As someone who is straight-sized, I don\’t have the experience of being judged for being fat, so I can\’t speak to that perception – I can only speak from my own story. (I\’ve definitely been judged, picked on, and overlooked for other reasons, but that\’s not really pertinent here.) I absolutely believe that some people – whether they are physically fat or not – will always interpret \”I feel fat\” as either an attack or as a cry for help. I\’m with you in believing that intention without explanation isn\’t enough by a long shot, and words will always cut the one who hears them as something other than a silent-about-meaning person may mean.
That in itself is a reason to push forward and learn new terms for the body/mind/feelings discrepancy I\’m laying out in this article. Instead of making the connection in a fat person\’s ears of fat=bad, we need to be more specific about the actual feelings we\’re experiencing. (That\’s not even just a body thing; that\’s about everything.) Hence why I\’m saying that this isn\’t the end point of the issue: we must learn to speak the truth without hidden intention, in a way that connects instead of divides us.
My dear, I wish I had half of your ability to debate and express the enormous ideas present in these kinds of discussions. I have trouble discussing politics, ethics, spirituality, race, gender, etc because I get too mentally muddled to continue. It\’s entirely possible that in this post/comment I\’m simply not saying things right when we talk about super-incredibly-important issues. This isn\’t an excuse for being a doucherocket of any form; I don\’t like to admit verbal failings, but it feels important to say this here. I hate not being able to express the subtleties of this issue, but practice will only help me find my word-feet.
Again, I want to make sure you know I appreciate your participation in this conversation, and I definitely admire the advocacy you tirelessly pursue. Thank you, thank you, thank you. <3 <3 <3
It's funny you should mention working toward a more precise terminology, because in reading the original post I thought "I feel wrong in my body today" was actually a very elegant way of encapsulating that feeling. Because believe me, I have had that feeling before, and the best I've usually been able to do was a frustrated "It's just…BLERGH." (Is it odd that the linguist/conlang-enthusiast in me wants to just make up a whole new word and start using it?) A linguist I greatly admire wrote in one of her novels something to the effect of "Any idea can be expressed in any language – eventually. But the language shapes which concepts are easiest to convey quickly and specifically, so while a language that lacks a developed lexical framework for certain ideas doesn't *prevent* people from talking about those ideas, it can make it hard enough that eventually people stop bothering to try." Like, look at "compersion" – a term used by polyamorous people to describe basically the inverse of jealousy, an emotion of being happy that your partner is enjoying themself with someone else. Because that word didn't exist until relatively recently, and eventually people hit upon this term and began using it as generally-accepted shorthand for that kind of clunky description of a feeling.
I say all this to say that I *do* believe that better terms, and phrases, and words, can indeed be found – or created. (In fact, with your permission, I'd like to take bits of this conversation to tumblr to ask if anyone knows of existing terms for this feeling, or has ideas or suggestions. I follow a lot of very eloquent people, and I think their input could be awesome for this.) So I'm glad you're still pursuing that, and I really look forward to seeing where it leads you as you go!
And, um…thank you. *super-awkward penguin* Believe me, it's a skill-set that was a long time in developing – I spent probably two years hanging out in advocacy spaces just watching, listening, seeing patterns and acquiring the specific vocabulary and methods of argument, before I ever started throwing my own voice into the clamor. And I still get muddled fairly often! These topics are so complex and multi-layered that it's not hard to get lost and start going in circles in them. Let's just say…I have a *lot* of stuff in my drafts folder, lol. So I absolutely have faith that with time and practice you'll get some very strong word-feet under you. And I have every intention of being here cheering you on as it happens, to the best of my ability! <3
*squish!* All the loves!
And yes, I would be super happy for you to take the conversation elsewhere and see if there are words already in use. Please do share them here! "I feel wrong in my body today" is a great phrase to replace the offensive (and inaccurate) "I feel fat," but it doesn't exactly trip off the tongue.
I think the worst thing I've heard is when my daughter told me her friend's mom put her on a diet because she was 'getting fat'. She's 10 and weighs 62 pounds! WTF? Why do people do that to their kids? I thought the drama was bad when it came to my kid's hair issues (she feels famous being anonymously part of your blog LOL) but for her to hear these things from her friends…she can't wrap her head around it. I've raised her to love her body, to take care of it, to love herself!
My point is really…when I say "I feel fat" around her, I make sure she knows that I love myself but it's one of those 'lady days' or I ate too many cookies the night before, or I'm having an off day…and that's ok. I think we, as women, go through so much from society and ourselves that there hasn't been enough healing yet. And your words really help with that healing.
When I was about 12, and my friend was 10, her mom did the same thing to her. She was at most a little chubby, and probably would have grown out of it. My friend now has serious eating issues. I'm glad you're making that distinction explaining what you mean, and that it isn't about not loving yourself.
@ElliDi, very interesting piece, and very well written. While I know exactly what you mean, and I too find myself saying that "I feel fat" (and it really does just mean, I don't feel like I fit in my body today). I do think it is sad that this has become a phrase so easily used in our society and I do liken it to the use of phrases like "that's retarded" or "that's so gay" because whether we mean it to or not the implication is that fat = feeling bad and/or uncomfortable.
"I do liken it to the use of phrases like "that's retarded" or "that's so gay" because whether we mean it to or not the implication is that fat = feeling bad and/or uncomfortable."
Excellent point! This is something I've been thinking about as the conversation here in the comments has gone on. In my own experience, the vast majority of people weaned themselves off of using "that's so ______" because they realized it was offensive and derisive, regardless of their intention. But the transformation of their language (mine included) wasn't instantaneous; it had to be done slowly, over time, with care and contentiousness. New expressions had to be learned, more accurate ideas understood. And yes, there were slip-ups and embarrassments, but eventually, the people who cared stopped saying "gay" and "retarded" as put-downs. Now, you hardly ever hear it (or at least not in my experience and/or not in circles where people care even a smidgen about that sort of thing).
All this to say that, yes, language is changeable, and people's intentions and perceptions do matter, but we can't fix it overnight. Just as stories touch one person at a time – like this one and all the ones shared here in the comments (thank you guys!) – one person at a time much change their language and understanding of the expression "I feel fat" in order for things to take their proper hold and the language to shift.
So true! Very eloquently put. My own journey away from using the phrase I feel fat was quite similar, it took me a long time, and it took a lot of understanding what I really was feeling for me to get somewhere where I didn't want to say it/think it anymore.
Thank you for sharing your take on this. It's an interesting phrase "I feel fat" because fat isn't really a feeling. But you have described so perfectly what it means to feel fat. I wrote a post…same subject…different angle. Definitely one of my darker days…I've learned to be kinder to myself since then
http://onbecomingme.com/2011/06/12/if-fat-is-not-….
I really enjoyed reading the meaning behind “I feel fat” I understood it to mean a disconnected feeling between mind and body. So instead of saying “I feel fat” could you just say my head and body are unplugged today. Speaking as a person of size, when I hear people who look physically healthy. On target weight say they feel fat, it really makes the world tilt. For the masses of very inconsiderate people out there who have no idea how being a person of size feels they rally for people like you and demonize people in my shoes. It just seems like more failure to communicate. Feeling fat is when you body is physically heavy and as a person you are fat. So if you are not fat, please do not dip into the language and struggling world of fat people. I used to be a healthy weight and yes I felt fat on some days because my pants were tight from too many beers and late night snack. But I knew it was a matter of cutting back and upping my water intake to feel like myself again. Never did I announce I felt fat because I had friends struggling with weight and eating disorders. I just knew that was unfair and insensitive of me to announce that when in reality it was not true. I guess now when I hear someone use that terminology I look at them and try to assess are they really that down on themselves, are they trying to engage me in a healthy eating conversation or are they looking for reassurance. So if you are feeling some sort of disconnect between body and mind say that. Leave the fat out of it. Because if you are not fat, you have no room to say it and furthering the failure to communicate.
Thanks for popping in and sharing your thoughts on this, Janet! I'm glad to have as many people of size on the conversation as possible; I super appreciate your perspective.
We (not just me, but other people who use "I feel fat" as an inaccurate shorthand for that body-mind disconnect) definitely could and still can use other words to describe the stress we're feeling. The point I'm trying to make in this article and the followup comments is that the phrase is a stepping stone headed in the right direction but not the end of the road by a long shot. It's vital that we learn new, more accurate ways to express ourselves – in all formats, not just when discussing our bodies. Many people, including myself, have a lot of unlearning to do when it comes to talking shit about their bodies, whether to themselves or out loud to others. That sort of thing doesn't come quickly or easily, but it does come with enough time and care.
But I do have two points of contention, which I will do my best to express in as a compassionate way as possible.
First, as for not having the *right* to say "I feel fat," that's where things get a little dicey for me. I'm one of those folks who believe you can say anything you want, but you have to take the consequences for it. Just as I've said my piece in this article and comments and taken what's come, anyone should be able to have that opportunity. Taking away a person's right to speak on a subject – any subject – is not only an invalidation of their thoughts/feelings, but it also robs the world of another story that could further insight into the topic. We have the right to say what we want, but we must endure the outcome of it, as well. Rights come with responsibilities. And it's not anyone else's place to take that right away.
Second: You never know someone's past or what they're struggling with right now. You didn't know, for example, that I used to have a nearly 40-inch waist at 5ft 4in., that I used to tickle the border of obesity, and that I crash dieted, laxatived, and over-exercised my way down to the bone. We never know someone's struggle. Does that give anyone the right to belittle another person? Never. But assuming that a straight-sized person doesn't know the obstacles faced by a fat person, based on their size, is just as uncompassionate as a straight-sized person assuming a fat person is lazy. Restricting language in a discussion of understanding to only those whom you think know what it's like does a disservice to the discussion. We need as many supportive voice as possible – not just those who are fat at this moment.
Again, Janet, I'm sincerely thankful that you've come here and shared your thoughts and feelings on this incredibly sensitive and heavily-charged topic. It's a hard thing to talk about, especially publicly, and I'm glad you did. As I mentioned in my discussion with Jadelyn, I'm not terribly good at expressing everything I think/feel in words (an embarrassment for a writer to admit), and so please do let me know if anything is unclear or comes off as hurtful. I would never want you to think of this as an attack or invalidation of your own experience. <3
So unbelievably true. There are days when I look at my size 18 in the mirror and think, "I feel skinny." And those are the days that I am confident and feel like I can wear anything in my closet. Then there are the days that I feel fat. And nothing is good enough to wear. So I end up in sweat pants. It's a feeling that can't be understood by anyone who has never felt it. There were times when I was significantly thinner and thought I felt fat. Spot on. Thanks.
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Beautiful. Thank you for putting words to these feelings!
Brava, honey cakes!
I think "feeling fat" is also related to the expectations we have for our bodies, which can be rooted in all sorts of things.
(Trigger warning: use of numbers involving weight below.)
In my case, I have a BMI of about 26. I wear straight sizes. I don't get mooed at, or anything similar. But I don't feel great about my weight right now in part because I don't feel like my body is meant to be this weight. I know that genetically, I should have a BMI of about 19-20. I've had about 30 pounds of medication-induced weight gain, 10 in 2003-2004 and 20 in 2009-2011. On the other hand, the fact that I know the weight gain isn't my fault is very freeing. Even though I'm not thrilled about the weight gain, at least I don't feel guilty for it, which helps a lot. I'm also aware of the data showing that people in the 25-29.9 BMI range actually have lower death rates than people in the 18.5-24.9 range, which also helps me feel better about my weight.
Anyway, I think that a lot of my emotions around my weight are determined by what I expect of myself. I'd like to be smaller like other young women in my family, but I also realize that I couldn't realistically prevent medication-induced weight gain. I suspect that this is also a factor in whether people feel "fat" generally–if their bodies are out of step with the way they think their bodies should be, they feel "fat".
I love this post. As someone who is overweight, I have days where I feel "fatter" than others. I even have skinny days. This just puts into words for me what is really going on for me. I definitely feel fatter on those days when I have not taken care of myself, when days have passed and what I've put into my body is giving me a definite signal that something is wrong. And then there are days that I feel slimmer, usually on the days when I am feeling good in general, when what I am eating is for the most part healthy. The scale is the same on both of those occasions. I've tested it! I so get this. thank you.
Yes. Oh, so much yes. I too feel this way some days, and I want to express said frustration – like a ‘bad hair day’ or something similar, but I can’t, because people take it every way but as an expression of my current feeling about my current state of body. I am not looking for reassurance. I am not telling anyone else how they look or how they should feel about how they look. If I say it, its because I need to release that emotion into the wind, to let it go – and maybe, if I need anything at all from others, just a bit of sympathy and support of the “I know, it’ll pass” variety.
Its not just I feel fat, though it is a very touchy subject due to the unfair demonization of fatness. Its other expressions as well, which don’t quite manage to convey what I actually mean.
So thank you for putting this into words. Maybe the next time I want to say I feel fat, I will, and point any responses to this blog post for clarification.
Yes! That’s an excellent point – this sort of expression doesn’t just apply to feeling fat. It can apply to just about anything. Not every time someone complains is intended to get a reaction/reassurance; sometimes you just need to let the emotion out there. It’s true that it can easily be heard in a way you don’t intend, but it’s good to be aware of that possible interpretation.
So, I missed out on a fun night with my husband and friends tonight, because I was “feeling fat.” We had plans to meet our friend’s goats, eat pizza, drink beer and just hang out in the sunshine.(Very rare.) Strangely enough, I could not find even a pair of jeans or t-shirt that I felt comfortable enough in to be seen in. Yes, even by goats! The sun is out now and I cannot hide my “fat days” behind baggy sweatshirts. My husband says I look great in everything, which I know is his way of saying, “C’mon, nobody cares if you feel fat, we have to pick up Dan in 10 minutes, hurry up.” So, here I sit…alone…while my husband and friends have a fun time without me. I feel so lame that I would let a silly emotional “fat day” get the best of me.
Oh, sweetie, I know that feeling so well. I’ve definitely missed out on my share of fun stuff because I couldn’t stop telling myself all the hurtful things that come up in those situations. You’re not alone in that.
But two things caught my attention, and I wanted to touch very briefly on them, in hopes that it will help.
In relationships, it can be really easy to dismiss or over-analyse our partner’s compliments and praise because we’re so familiar with each other. It’s a habit that feeds into self-hate cycles. Generally speaking, though, it’s much more helpful for us both to trust our partner’s words and accept their praise, even when we don’t see it. It sounds like your husband is trying to support you, not shame or rush you. <3
Also: one thing I’ve learned after years of fighting disordered eating is that the biggest loss is always turning down chances to connect with people because my Evil Auctioneer is in high gear. The physical and mental discomfort of a “fat day” is awful, for sure, but the regret that comes with missing out on life by staying home is much worse. As I said to a friend with social anxiety + body issues once, ” Sometimes you just have to tell yourself, ‘Imma go out,’ and just go.” <3