Before I begin, I ask that we observe a moment of Silence for Arsenal Football Club.
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Thank you.
Now, raise of hands if you've accepted your Fatness as your Lord and Personal Saviour.
Jk. Lol. No, but seriously. Being a part of this community I've discovered that "denial" is certainly more than a river [two, to be accurate] in Egypt.
How many of us truly acknowledge our Ailment? Nothing surpasses the uncomfortable silence that comes after having what you thought was a candid heart to heart with another fat woman about The Ailment, followed by the unexpected flush of her cheeks, her face growing rigid in defiance. What can one do but to excuse oneself from this conversation and scuttle away in shame?
To my annoyance, this is a regular occurrence and leaves me with no one to whom I can relate. Not unlike the little seal girl, in her little seal world, it truly is hard to get by. Except Seals can't even cry :(.
It brings about the issue of self-awareness. In speaking to a young lady the other day, she insisted that she had only recently come down with The Ailment, and that not 6 months ago, she was "an itty-bitty thang". Seeing that we disregard that which is in live and living color, but rather rely on our Facebook lives to speak to our reality, she immediately reached for her phone and rummaged through her 1046 pictures. After going through the last year of her virtual life, she finally decided on the picture that was to validate her proclamation. Guise, she was neither Itty nor Bitty.
Being told as a child to withhold any commentary that wasn't a positive addition to a conversation, I pulled my face into a tight smirk and insisted that her hair was indeed, Snatched for the gods. I'm still congratulating myself on that display of tact and grace.
So, personally, I hate getting set up. In the few instances I allow my friends to set me up with a guy, I ensure that the man is forewarned of my Ailment. Imagine the crestfallen face of a man who is misled by the strategic angles, and deceiving filters on a woman's Instagram, to have mustered up the testicles to agree to meet up with this beauty, and be completely caught off guard by her size? I know I've said before that it is discrimination to not date a girl because she's fat, but we're human, we have preferences and perceptions; my heart sincerely goes out to said unsuspecting men who have and are facing this predicament. Hats off to those of you who were able to tastefully overcome the situation. In that breath, when people that have known me, seen me, surpass the obvious ailment and proceed to pursue me, they've gained that much more of my respect.
Ladies we need to fess up to our fate and, as my compatriots would say "Accept our P". Stop reveling in the reverie of a thinner yester-year, or some distant, imaginary future. Even worse, don't make it more awkward for other people. I for one enjoy seeing Empowered Fat Bitches like myself, and engaging in conversations with them; "OMG, where'd you get that skirt?" "Where did you get that bathing suit?" "Are you hungry?". I'm not asking you to be encompassed by the fact that you are one of the chosen few. I simply ask that we stand in one accord as we take to the streets with our Full-Figured prowess.
When you guys behave this way, scornfully dismissing your home community, not only do you deplete the credibility of your mental health [I mean, really] but you eliminate the prospect of us relating to and being supportive of each other.
Until next time,
EFB
P.S. The H.O.V. lane is nothing more than a discriminatory device for single women forced to sit in the purgatory that is Atlanta's rush hour traffic.
....................
....................
Thank you.
Now, raise of hands if you've accepted your Fatness as your Lord and Personal Saviour.
Jk. Lol. No, but seriously. Being a part of this community I've discovered that "denial" is certainly more than a river [two, to be accurate] in Egypt.
How many of us truly acknowledge our Ailment? Nothing surpasses the uncomfortable silence that comes after having what you thought was a candid heart to heart with another fat woman about The Ailment, followed by the unexpected flush of her cheeks, her face growing rigid in defiance. What can one do but to excuse oneself from this conversation and scuttle away in shame?
To my annoyance, this is a regular occurrence and leaves me with no one to whom I can relate. Not unlike the little seal girl, in her little seal world, it truly is hard to get by. Except Seals can't even cry :(.
It brings about the issue of self-awareness. In speaking to a young lady the other day, she insisted that she had only recently come down with The Ailment, and that not 6 months ago, she was "an itty-bitty thang". Seeing that we disregard that which is in live and living color, but rather rely on our Facebook lives to speak to our reality, she immediately reached for her phone and rummaged through her 1046 pictures. After going through the last year of her virtual life, she finally decided on the picture that was to validate her proclamation. Guise, she was neither Itty nor Bitty.
Being told as a child to withhold any commentary that wasn't a positive addition to a conversation, I pulled my face into a tight smirk and insisted that her hair was indeed, Snatched for the gods. I'm still congratulating myself on that display of tact and grace.
So, personally, I hate getting set up. In the few instances I allow my friends to set me up with a guy, I ensure that the man is forewarned of my Ailment. Imagine the crestfallen face of a man who is misled by the strategic angles, and deceiving filters on a woman's Instagram, to have mustered up the testicles to agree to meet up with this beauty, and be completely caught off guard by her size? I know I've said before that it is discrimination to not date a girl because she's fat, but we're human, we have preferences and perceptions; my heart sincerely goes out to said unsuspecting men who have and are facing this predicament. Hats off to those of you who were able to tastefully overcome the situation. In that breath, when people that have known me, seen me, surpass the obvious ailment and proceed to pursue me, they've gained that much more of my respect.
Ladies we need to fess up to our fate and, as my compatriots would say "Accept our P". Stop reveling in the reverie of a thinner yester-year, or some distant, imaginary future. Even worse, don't make it more awkward for other people. I for one enjoy seeing Empowered Fat Bitches like myself, and engaging in conversations with them; "OMG, where'd you get that skirt?" "Where did you get that bathing suit?" "Are you hungry?". I'm not asking you to be encompassed by the fact that you are one of the chosen few. I simply ask that we stand in one accord as we take to the streets with our Full-Figured prowess.
When you guys behave this way, scornfully dismissing your home community, not only do you deplete the credibility of your mental health [I mean, really] but you eliminate the prospect of us relating to and being supportive of each other.
Until next time,
EFB
P.S. The H.O.V. lane is nothing more than a discriminatory device for single women forced to sit in the purgatory that is Atlanta's rush hour traffic.
