Confessions of a Fat Lady

This post is for those of you who know what it’s like to carry a lot of extra weight and to those who have no clue.

What’s it like? When I shop for clothes, I kind of like that there might only be 6 racks in the store that have clothes that fit me. Seriously – I don’t know how “regular sized” women select from all their choices. I have to remember that it might look good on the hanger, but add a large belly and you look pregnant. I think my grey hair prevents that question from coming up anymore, but I really didn’t like being asked, “When are you due?” when I wasn’t pregnant. I also steer away from belts for fear of my body being mistaken for the equator.  Some things look fine on a plus-sized woman, others, no matter how you stretch it, do not. Leggings and swimsuits come to mind. As long as my butt is covered by a top, a skirt, or a dress, I don’t object too much to leggings, but they are not pants! As far as swimsuits are concerned, who are we kidding when we add a skirt? Maybe you have the body type with a large belly and skinny legs, but I don’t; I’ve always been hippy. Those skirts only flop foolishly around in the water and drip that much more when we come out.

What’s it like? When I enter a restaurant, the hostess asks if we’d like a booth or a table. Some of the booths are too tight for me to get in and out of comfortably, but I usually defer to my pride which has me respond, “It doesn’t matter.” When I sit around a table at a meeting, I usually try to pick the seat on an end where people don’t have to get around me. Many times they can’t. Some chairs just aren’t large enough: school desks come to mind. I’ve bruised my thighs getting into theater seats. There’s a local theater whose armrests rise like airplane seats. Some like this because they can snuggle with their sweetie during the movie. I like this because I can sit comfortably with my sweetie. The worst experience is airline seats. When I walk down the aisle, I imagine everyone wishing I’m not their seat mate. Once I get in the seat, I move the buckle of the seatbelt to the largest setting and hope I can get it around my girth. The arm rest bounces on my hip as it really doesn’t go all the way down, as does the tray table. I can mush my fat around it so that it cuts into me, but often, I just hold my drink in my hand. I like it best when there’s someone I know next to me, and then I don’t have to pretend I don’t exist. Last year I had a peculiar experience. I got settled into my seat by the window and realized that a huge man was going to be my seat mate. I was somehow comforted that he would, at least struggle with the same issues. He got settled, we nodded to each other, and we spent the rest of the trip touching, but not talking. I’m not a chatty person on a plane. I prefer to read and watch the miles go by, but this was weird.

What’s it like? I remember an episode of Oprah from the ‘80s when I watched the show. It was about being overweight and some woman made the comment that fat people are smelly and dirty because they can’t get in and out of the tub. Oprah responded by asking the woman if she had ever heard of a shower? A few years ago, some students in one of my classes were talking about an internet search where they found a product that was designed to clean fat rolls. You know how some wrinkly dogs need special treatment because they get gamey in those folds of skin? I guess there’s a product for we fat folks too. I just make sure I take care of that kind of thing in the shower. I use the handicapped stall in public restrooms for two reasons: there’s enough room for me to move around, and I the seat is up higher so that I don’t have to strain my knees getting up and down.

Those are my confessions: Do you have any?