Do you know what I hate? The word ‘fat’.
Do you know what else I hate? When one human drags another down.
I also hate the word hate which shows just how very deeply I feel about these things.
Meet my little sister. Beautiful isn’t she? Incredible Aunty-Jo to my 3 boys, wonderful daughter, fiancé, friend. A masters degree to name, with cum laude. She was head girl at highschool, and a gem of a heart.
I was enraged this week as my sister, the most special soul, the same soul who’s spent all weekend cooking and selling prego rolls to raise funds for a disadvantaged family, was called fat.
To her face.
Firstly, she’s not fat. She’s like a size 14,16 at most.
Secondly who bloody cares.
Thirdly, why would a person humiliate another to an extent that resulted in my sister spending the entire day in tears.
All because she’s perhaps put on a bit of weight???
Does that make her any different as a person? I want to say no. But..
Yes it actually does.
Not to her core, inner being. Not because ‘fat’ makes her ugly.
Because the knowledge she’s not as trim as she was a year ago has brought about a complete change in her self-love, her self-confidence and ultimately her self-respect.
Are we THAT brainwashed that 7/8kgs can really change how we love and exhibit ourselves.
Since bloody when did it become acceptable to condescendingly tell someone they got fat?
I’m only writing about this now because I needed the rage to subside a bit before I ‘used my words’.
That’s my darn baby sister.
Nobody makes her cry without my wrath.
But instead of ‘wrathing’ I’m going to do what I told sister to do: turn the negative energy into positive motivation.
Of course she’s devastated.
Does name-caller not think my sister knows? That her heart doesn’t drop every time she might catch a glimpse in the mirror?
I’ve seen her painful reflection-induced wincing.
I’ve seen her fight with those closest to her in sheer frustration.
I’ve seen her cry when something doesn’t fit. Secretly sneak away from group photos.
And my heart breaks a little more every time.
Because until I found the beautiful freedom of self-love I was the same.
Until I realized that my weight was literally just a number, and that no amount of numbers could quantify the true beauty of a person’s soul, I too fought Body-Battles of doom.
It’s a silent demon that few talk about. We may jokingly rip ourselves to utter shreds but it’s actually not funny.
Fat is no longer a word I allow to be used in my house. I have 3 boys. I sure don’t want them to judge potential love, or friendship, exclusively on what size pants a person wears.
I’m setting you all the same challenge. Stop saying fat.
In the past few months I have tried to completely remove it from my spoken language.
It’s banned under my roof.
My kids aren’t allowed to say it, as I explained to them it may not be a swear word but does cause people pain.
In fact, and excuse my brashness-I would rather they said fuck. Because fuck won’t cause teeth-grindingly painful self-hate.
It’s a word so flippantly thrown around, as if those suffering from this seemingly leprosy-akin ‘fatness’ aren’t completely aware of how they feel in their own bodies.
Let’s end Body-Battles one word at a time.
Don’t say it.
The longer I’ve gone ‘fat-intolerant’ the more I cringe when I hear it.
And if someone jokes about their own fat, as we all so often do: Correct them.
‘You’re not fat, I hate that word-you’re a beautiful soul in a body made perfectly to your beautiful soul specifications’.
Of course, we should we healthy, not one ‘fat’ person doesn’t already know that. But no amount of weight gain can change the depth and beauty of a person’s soul.
If we can better the body that carries us around our daily life-conquering, result. But please vow to be gentle on your fellow human-warriors whilst you do it, and most importantly be gentle on yourself.