On September 4th, 2016, on Hogwarts' Wooden Bridge, my fiancé, a Slytherin, asked me, a Ravenclaw, to marry him. Everything about it was perfect to me; the setting, our house uniforms, and the person down on one knee asking me one of the most important questions I'll ever encounter. It really did feel magical to me. Since then, I've pondered loads of wedding related issues:
What should our cake look like?
What should our color scheme be?
What kind of ring do I want?
The only thing I haven't fretted over was the fact that I'm going to be a fat bride. I didn't really need to though, because my family, friends, and strangers seemingly stressed out enough for the both of us about it. I've been sent articles about which brand of shape wear will best hold in my gut. I've been advised that strapless dresses aren't "flattering" because it will alert people to the fact that I have back rolls. And I've been flat out told by my father that I, quote: "Need to lose weight. [I'm] getting married in five weeks. [I] need to watch what [I] eat."
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| (Second attempt at trying on wedding dresses.) |
I realized something a few months ago that really impacted the way I think about and view my body:
I wasn't born hating my appearance. I was conditioned by the words of those around me and the images I saw in the media to feel like I wasn't good enough.
When I was 5 years old, I can recall getting out of a pool and my dad patting the back of my thigh as my mother dried me off. "She's getting chubby," he said to her as my skin delicately jiggled and I was henceforth burdened with a complex about my fat legs for the next two decades. At age 7, I had a playdate with my friend Brittany, who had just been gifted a "My Size Barbie" for her birthday. The doll was about the same height as us and the dress it wore was advertised as "one size fits all". I quickly found out I didn't fit under the umbrella that "all" was supposed to cover. Brittany quite angrily demanded that I stopped trying to wiggle my way into the dress by saying, "You're too big! You're going to ruin it!"
One of my favorite things to do when I got to stay home sick from school was watch daytime TV; The Today Show, Price Is Right, and Maury. I'm not sure if Maury exclusively does paternity tests these days, but when I was in middle school I remember loving the "Look At Me Now" episodes. Essentially they would bring out a very attractive guest, show a picture of them in school when they were debatably less attractive, discuss a love interest or bully who treated them badly back then, and then bring that person out to be surprised at how attractive they had become. Being an awkward preteen I was definitely experiencing my crushes not giving me the time of day, so when I watched these shows they became my goal. "I'm going to be like that one day. I'm going to lose a bunch of weight and get really hot and then they'll finally want to date me." While I get now that the show is staged, at the time, all I was really taking away from it was "Because I look more like the 'before' photo, no one will like me unless I make myself become the 'after' photo." And this was the message other TV shows and movies sent to me as well. I mean, how many silly montages have we all sat through of the quirky unpopular girl being transformed into a beautiful swan in order to attain the approval of others?
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| ("It doesn't matter if you're only 16. We have to make you look 25 if you're going to lead Genovia!") |
With the constant message I wasn't good enough as I was being conveyed to me in magazines, TV shows and in the words of those around me, it's really not a surprise I spent the majority of my teenage years at war with who I saw in the mirror. When I was about 13, I started obsessing over my cellulite, stretch marks, and dark circles that had began appearing more prominently on my face and body. I lamented to my parents about how self conscious I was about these things, but rather than reinforce to me that I was beautiful no matter what and these were normal occurrences everyone experiences, they took me to the store and bought me dark circle cream and stretch mark oil. I used them religiously, but after two months of use and not seeing any improvement I complained again.
"Well, that's what happens when you're too fat. [The products] can't work miracles, Christine," my mother said to me.
I began taking to heart the comments of those closest to me. Whether it was my friends trying to console me by saying, "You're not fat. You're beautiful," or my grandmother whispering to my aunt on the phone, "Well, you know she's got a very pretty face. She's getting a bit heavy though,"; all I was taking away from these comments was that I couldn't be fat AND beautiful at the same time. Fat was a bad word and if only I lost weight I'd finally be perfect or enough in my family or society's eyes. I tried dieting, exercising, replacing entire meals with protein bars, and at one point starved myself all together. I'd lose 5 lbs. one week, only 2 lbs. the next, get frustrated and give up. I stayed on that mouse wheel for my last two years of high school.
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| (My caption for this on Facebook was: "Not one of my more flattering prom pictures." I hated how fat my arm looked.) |
It was also during this time I started working for Torrid. You would think it was at this point that I discovered body positivity, but it wasn't. I've actually found working in Torrid and Lane Bryant to be the least body positive places I've ever been employed. Sure now they come out with campaign after campaign expressing messages of body love, but during the years I worked for them it was all about adding Spanx to every sale and disguising every roll and visible belly outline we encountered. If a fat woman did walk in the door and want to wear a bodycon dress or her blouse tucked in, you can be sure her confidence was mocked by the other sales associates and even managers. As an already insecure teenager, what their comments reinforced to me was, "If I try to show off my body, I'll be laughed at too."
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| (Who wears a cardigan to a waterpark? An insecure, fat girl.) |
Today I find it much easier to stand up for a stranger I see being body shamed, but strangely it's still incredibly difficult for me to defend myself in real life. Being a plus size bride, wedding dress shopping has been one of my least favorite parts of wedding planning. During appointments I've been steered towards dresses that will "slim me down" be "more flattering for [my] body", and even been asked if I'd be willing to lose weight to fit into a dress that I liked. Afterwards, I think of all the things I should have said at the time, but in the moment I just accept it in effort to be non-confrontational.
I'm sick of being non-confrontational. I often think about how my life might have been different if just one person had told me I was beautiful without conditions attached to it. How much pain would I have avoided if my family had never body shamed me? If magazines had taught me about self love before teaching me about weight loss? If TV and movies had given me positive role models to identify with?
It's taken me a long time to get to where I am with my body. I have my good body image days as well as my bad ones. But I acknowledge that MY opinion of my body is the only one that matters. Not my dad's, or my grandmother's, or some coward on the internet. Mine. I'm not at war with myself anymore. Gone are the days of shying away from the mirror. Gone are the days of only wearing form fitting dresses with Spanx. And gone are the days where I let people's comments about my weight and appearance cut me so deep.
I am fat. I am beautiful. I am going to strut down that aisle serving shimmery, sassy marshmallow realness. I am going to marry a man who doesn't care if I'm a size 20 or a size 2. And I am going to enjoy one of the happiest days of my life, fat, flaws and all.
