I had my first ultimate frisbee practice with my work team last night. Ultimate is something I’ve always wanted to play, but either never got the chance, never had the money, or never wanted to embarrass myself in front of strangers. My workplace is pretty cool, though, and I figured they probably wouldn’t fire me if I couldn’t throw a disc far enough…so I joined.
And as it turns out, I’m pretty good!
I’m not the fastest runner, and I’ve never played on a team sport before so I got kinda confused when there were a million people running around the field…but I’ve got a pretty mean backhand and a fairly decent forward flick. Go me!
As we were finishing up and throwing our coats back on, one of the guys came up and told me I’d probably be their new handler. The handler is the person who throws the disc most or something. I was really excited and felt really good about it! I jokingly said “Yeah man, and no one suspects the chubby girl!” My colleague kinda laughed and said he didn’t mean it that way and I immediately felt terrible. OF COURSE he didn’t mean it that way! And I didn’t mean to make him feel that way! I was just making a joke. The same old joke I’ve been making my entire life. And I think it’s time to stop.
I think it’s time to stop calling myself fat.
My friends don’t think I’m fat. My boyfriend doesn’t think I’m fat. The general public doesn’t think I’m fat, they probably just think I’m a bit chubby. The only people who think I’m fat are me and my doctor, and, quite frankly, I’m sure my doctor wouldn’t call me fat either until he gets out his BMI chart and it twirls around to “morbidly obese”. And even then he’d be like “this is crap, you bike everywhere, you’re fine, just keep an eye on it.”
So I guess that means I’m the only person who calls me fat.
I mean, I’m sure outside people think I’m a bit chunky. It’s not like I’m a size 12 here being like “ugh fuck I can’t fit into my high school jeans anymore OMG JUST KEEP EATING DOUGHNUTS FATTY”. But the point is, people don’t think I’m fat.
Peeeeeoooppplllleee dooooonnnntttt ttthhhiiinnnkkk Immmmm ffffaaaaaatttttt.
So why do I think I’m fat?
I’m not the biggest (ha!) fan of my body, and I can’t buy pants in any store I want to, and the scale hasn’t had the number 1 be first in a long long time, and I’d never let you take a photo of me at a sideways angle, and the older I get the weirder my body starts looking and the weight goes to different places…so yeah, there are a lot of reasons why I think I’m fat. But when I describe myself, I rarely use the words “An almost-30 writer, comedian, traveller and superchub who doesn’t know how some people have thighs that don’t touch”…I usually just use the first part and then say something about coffee or cats. I know I’m not fat. But I don’t know it, y’know?
So it’s time to stop. I think it’s time to stop. I have friends who have loved me when I’m heavier. I’ve had audiences love me at all my weights. I have a boyfriend who can’t wait to kiss me. I have a great rack and an even better personality. I bike and walk and hike and run and now I play ultimate frisbee.
Okay. So I’m stopping. I’m going to stop. Starting today, I will stop calling myself fat. I’ll still bitch about my weight and diet and step on the scale and hate my body once a month…but I will no longer call myself fat in front of people. Hell, I’ll no longer do it while I’m by myself either. People don’t call me fat. I don’t call me fat. Like, not really, anyway.
It’s time to start loving myself the way I am. Lord knows I could never give up Portuguese custard tarts.