I Haven't Been Me for 12 Years
06/08/2010

     I am Steph, I am 24 years old. I haven't been me for 12 years.

     I come from a very small town of about 10,000 people. It's a nice place to be a child, there was literally nothing that would prevent us from riding around town on bikes with our friends from one park to another, and to stay out after dark. It's surrounded by fields and forests, and a river runs through it with miles and miles of trail to go on adventures and picnics. So it was an activity-free-for-all, especially during summer vacation.

     I was a slim child, excellent in school and had many friends. As popular as a 9-year-old can get, I imagine. My parents got divorced when I was 10 years old. That same year, I changed school, and my best friend of 7 years moved 12 hours away from me. I became socially awkward; without my best friend I was alone vs the world. I made a good solid circle of friends at my new school, friends I still have today. But I would see them in school, and instead of going out with them to the park in the evening like I used to do the years before, I mostly stayed home.

    My parents lived in the same neighborhood, and they had split custody of my sister and I, so my parents were always around. The other thing that was around was food. We dined out almost every day, and every weekend. Usually a pretty active child, I was now only leaving the house for school. After school I'd come back home and sat in front of the TV for hours. I gained a lot of weight.

    By 6th grade a was a "fattie". Not only because kids are mean and would call me a fattie; I was 170 pounds at 12 years old. Jr and high school was all in one building for me, and I was thrown to the wolves as an obese 13 year-old entering a school of 1300 people, 1/2 of them who were much older than I was, and completely merciless. I was scorned, I was bullied, I was HARASSED. I had a big circle of friends, very good friends, but you can't be surrounded by your friends at all times.

    As the harassment went up my grades went down, so bad that I went from being a straight A student in elementary school, to flunking math two years in a row in high school. I was a school radio DJ from the time I was 15, something I loved doing because I love music, and I loved being safe and secluded in the windowless radio station room. Nobody to torment me there; until some people started waiting for me outside of the radio room. They'd throw pennies at me, they'd scream "fat bitch" at me. They'd follow me to class to see where I was, and made sure to walk by again after class so they could insult me more.

    My mom always used to tell me "Why don\'t you dress like a girl?" I never wanted to say that I was scared I'd get beaten up if I showed more than what was showing around my baggie jeans and a big rock band hoodie. I never asked for this, and I had never done anything to deserve this. I never had even been introduced to most people who bullied me. I knew their names, their faces, from being in the same school, but I did not KNOW these people, and they sure did not know me. It didn't stop them though. I found graffiti in the bathroom with my name on it, scribbles and photos of fat people's bellies and diet ads taped to my locker.

    And somehow that did not give me an eating disorder, no anorexia or bulimia. I did overeat, but did not binge. By the time I graduated I was 18 years old and 220 pounds. I showed up to prom with my best friend as a date, because I wouldn't even dream of having a date, ESPECIALLY to a school thing. I was hoping it would be a good time with my best friend, but i was wrong. I had very pretty custom dress my grandmother made for me following sketches I made, with this very beautiful candy pink and gold saree fabric. It was gorgeous, and I felt happy and beautiful until I walked out of the car into the reception hall. People looked, and laughed. Classmates pointed. Some of their PARENTS giggled. I had spent my hard-earned money on this fabric and jewelry, and worked hard to help my grandmother create this beautiful, one-of-a-kind dress, and they were making fun of me for not wearing a giant victorian gown that I should've worn to conceal my fatness, like the other big girls did. It killed me. I left after dinner, and swore I would not wear a dress in public ever again.

      After graduation, I moved an hour away from home and went to college for 2 semesters, and during that time I lost 40 pounds from stress, from not eating a lot between classes, from spending more money on drinks than on food, and from finally having sex on a regular basis. I was much happier, as long as I didn't sit alone for long enough to start thinking about my body issues. I thought "Wow, all it took was for me to move away from all these people". And I thought that\'s what it was.

      When I started struggling again, I moved again, back home. With almost 50 pounds less of me, I thought it would be a breeze to live there. I was wrong, and even with 1/4 of my body weight LESS, I was still fat, I was still way too fat for them to not say anything. Keep in mind these people are in their 20's by now, but they still scream "big fat slut" from across the street. After 5 months I was ready to attempt to kill myself. After a lot of thinking, I decided against it. But I move away again, and this time I moved clear across the country from Quebec to British Columbia, to escape the fat-bashers.

      In this province, at 22 yers old, and in a big city like Vancouver no less, the harassment literally DISAPPEARED. The worst thing that happens to me is dirty looks or a sneer. Wow! I was in heaven. And now, at 24, I realized just how F****D this is. I have lost a lot of weight. I should feel better about myself. But I don't because, I haven't lost ENOUGH weight. When I'm skinny people will make fun of something else as I walk by. Like how I have no breasts, or no butt. Or that I'm shaped like a boy. And it'll make me feel ashamed of what my body looks like, and guilty of how I eat, how I exercise, how I think I'm doing the right thing for my health.

      I don't accept my fatness, I know it's unhealthy, and I don't feel good that way. I am in the process of losing the extra weight right now, and it's driving me insane. Why should I have to do this? Can't I let this be a slow process? Because I need to be thin to get this promotion. Because I need to be thin to be able to go shopping and not cry. Because I need to be thin to not feel like the entire room is about to burst out laughing as I walk in. Because I need to be thin to even be considered attractive. Because I need to be thin to be considered in control.

    I understand what I want to do, yet I'm not sure of why I want to do it. I don't see this body as my own, when I look in the mirror. I poke at it, stand sideways and try to hide the fat, and try to figure out what it "should" look like, and what's underneath. This is 12 years of hating myself, of not knowing how to handle the fact that I hate the body I'm in, and I can't magically change it overnight. I feel trapped, I'm a prisoner of this fat suit, and I can't get rid of it fast enough. All it brings me is ridicule and pain. That is no way to live my life. I should not have to constantly fear what others are going to say about me simply because I'm overweight. But in this society, unfortunately, it is the way it is.

    I am told I am not beautiful. I am not I am not wanted. I am told I have no place on this Earth. But that if I'd lose 60 pounds I'd be welcome! I have to choose between being ridiculed in public for no reason, or adopting a "diet" and going out of my ways to exercise heavily to make myself thin and "acceptable". Where is my "None of these answers" option?

Size 14 - shirt size M - pear shaped 5'3" - 177 pounds