Feeling "Other" (aka: Being Fatter Than Fat)

It amazes me how even smaller, heavy-set women underestimate how much more difficult it is to be my size.

In the past month, I’ve had the same conversation with at least three plus-sized women regarding shopping for clothes.  When I mention that I can only shop for clothes online, they scoff.  “That’s not true – there are plenty of stores that carry your size.”

Then they start naming the same stores that I used to shop at; the same stores that I’ve now outgrown.  They always start with the same two suggestions.

“The Avenue carries women’s plus sizes.”

I shake my head.  “Not my size.”

“Have you checked Lane Bryant?”

I nod.  “They’re clothes run even smaller than The Avenue.”

This is then followed by a myriad of other recognizable clothing stores – all of which max out at a size 26 to a size 3x.

Maybe they are trying to be kind by pretending not to acknowledge my actual size.  Perhaps they are honestly unaware at how much larger I am.  Maybe they just have no basis for comparison, or their minds just can’t conjure that they would know someone who is a 6x.

When I tell them my actual size, they look surprised – but to their credit, none of them appeared judgmental about it or disgusted.  Whether it is true or not, they then say “I didn’t know you were that size” or “You don’t look like it” or “I never would have guessed.”

I don’t blame them.  I wouldn’t know how to respond to that, either.

Ultimately, I tell them that I’ve only found one online store that carries affordable clothes in my size that I actually don’t mind wearing.

Then, they begin to list other online stores I could try.

One friend suggested Torrid.  While their clothes are adorable, and they do carry my size, they don’t carry any clothing that I feel I would be comfortable in.  They’re all simply too tight or too revealing in one way or another.

It’s understandable that thin or average sized people would have a hard time understanding, but it’s kind of sad and lonely when even others in the same general predicament are baffled.  It explains how easy it is to feel so out of place.  Alien.  As if I am somehow “other” to the majority of the world.

I’ve isolated myself in layers upon layers of lard and the truth is, no matter how charming or funny or nice or smart or generous I may be – those layers make it hard for other people to identify with me. In a very literal way, my oversized suit of flesh makes it difficult for others to get close to me.

They may know me.  They might befriend me.  They may even love me.

But I’m well aware that the truth of the matter is, they see me as fat above and beyond all else.

I’ve heard it. 

I’ve heard them say “She’s a sweetheart, but I just wish she’d lose weight” or, “She’s so funny, but I worry about her size” or “She has a pretty face, but…”

I’ve had men tell me I’m wonderful, but they simply can’t date a big girl.

Of all the things I am – to the world, I am fat first.

I’m not trying crying about it, or bitching or whining.  I’m just acknowledging it.  Just tipping my hat to the way the world works.

I think each of us is many things but, to the world at large, we are what is most apparent.  We’re fat, or skinny.  We’re white or black, female or male, young or old.  We’re disabled or athletic, we’re disfigured or beautiful.  It’s not necessarily mean, it’s just human nature.

It’s psychology.

I just look forward to the day when I might be considered anything else first…anything but “fat”.  And, as I prepare for this surgery and hopeful weight loss, I find myself wondering…

What will that one thing be?