An open letter to the man who called me fat

An open letter to the man who called me fat while in downtown Gatlinburg, Tennessee on November 11. 

You were going in one direction and I was going in another when our paths crossed, and heard you snarl, “Fat!” as plain as day as you walked past me. I didn’t see you, but I definitely heard you. I turned to my brother, who shook his head and waved his hand as if telling me to wave it off, but I turned around and shouted it was uncalled for. There was a lot more I wanted to say, but you and the woman you were walking with continued on and I was with my family, too. Although our trip to Gatlinburg really didn’t go according to plan at all, I put you aside because I wasn’t going to let you ruin my night. It was already a stressful day. 

If I had stopped you though, I would have told you that I’ve already lost quite a lot of weight and although I’ve gained some it back, I’ve been working extremely hard to get healthy - all around healthy. I would have told you that I’m not sure if I’ve ever been completely healthy when you factor in physical health and mental health. At my lowest weight, I’d step on the scale several times a day and that number is what drove me all day. I restricted my calories and had panic attacks at eating more than 800kcal a day. I worked out to the point where I went months without taking rest days. My feet, ankles, knees, hips, and lower back ached so badly because of lack of rest. Taking a nightly bath wasn’t a luxury but a necessity. My hair started falling out. I was so addicted to a fitness group on Facebook that I kept the tab open all the time reading what other women were doing as their workouts. I was so unhappy, so tense, so on edge all the time. I didn’t want to go out to eat with friends or family. I remember going out on a date with a really nice man and feeling so nervous, not just because I was going on a date with someone, but because I was sooo nervous about eating food that I didn’t prepare and I didn’t measure out or weigh. I remember I had two family functions coming on; one on a Sunday and the another on the following Saturday, and I restricted calories and workouted out so much that when I finally went to the family functions, I was worn out from all the worry, restriction, and working out. I used to pride myself on how “disciplined” I was. I worked out on Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year’s Day. After years and years of being overweight, or even obese, I was so happy to be significantly thinner. People who never spoke to me before except to make fun of me started sending me friends requests on Facebook, and friends who used to laugh at me and call me fat behind my back sent me private messages asking me how I lost the weight and wanting to know what I did. I would reply back with information on Jillian Michaels workouts and running on the treadmill and how I didn’t really change my diet, I just ate more sensibly. That’s how it started. I may have been physically healthy, but mentally, I was at my worst. 

I would have told you that when I realized that I may have an eating disorder, I couldn’t get help because when you develop and eating disorder when you are already thin to begin with, you go to the hospital. When you develop and eating disorder when you are not thin to begin with, you are a success story. People praised my weight loss, rolled their eyes or raised their eyebrow in confusion when I mentioned an eating disorder. “You’re not anorexic skinny.” “You still eat.” “But too much exercise isn’t a bad thing.” I had to go about recovery on my own. I tried to scale back on exercise by taking rest days. I tried to gradually increase calories and eat around 1200 a day. Weight came back on, but I was okay with it. I was still decently happy with my body and coming to terms that my body may never get to 120, 130, or even 150lbs. I got to 160lbs through ways of restricting calories and working out excessively, never wanting to go out with friends, panicking when family functions happened, but I didn’t want to live my life that way. 

I would have told you that lately, I’ve been struggling so much with my body that I can’t stand to look in the mirror. Buying bigger pants has been an absolute soul crushing experience, and some family members aren’t happy that I have so much fitness stuff. I would have told you that I had been crying earlier that day because I looked very large in all photos that I had posed for at the wax museum. I felt ashamed and embarrassed. I wanted to delete the pictures immediately. 

I would have told you that when I stood outside my house one year ago today, watching flames shoot out both attic windows, that my thought wasn’t about all the things I was losing but how I was going to get so fat. I knew that when my house caught on fire a year ago that it’d be really tough to keep up with the schedule I had before. Luckily, we lived in a hotel with a small gym and I was able to do Jillian workouts in my hotel room, but it was hard going from a large house to a small hotel suite. When my mom got sick, I found it so hard to get back on the bandwagon because I was wanted to spend all my time with her. 

But most of all, I would have told you that it’s not okay to comment on someone’s body and it’s not okay to call someone fat. There are dozens of reasons why someone’s weight might be less than appealing - whether they are overweight, ideal weight, or underweight. PCOS, thyroid condition, steroid use, other medication, a genetic predisposition to weigh more or less, do I need to go on? There are things about my best friend that I don’t know about, let along some stranger I walk past on a busy, touristy street. I would have told you that it feels so much better to be kind, to say, “Hey, nice sweater!” (The girl who took a picture of our family at the wax museum complimented me on my sweater!) or just not say anything at all, because I was a stranger. You may think that calling me fat would make me want to go run on the treadmill or buy a Jillian Michaels DVD or get Beach Body On Demand. Maybe you thought it’d motivate me somehow. Sorry buddy, I’ve been doing that since August 2012, when I first joined LoseIt and pulled out the DDR pad to play the game. 

I would have told you that there is more to someone than how they look on the outside. There is more to me than the outside.

Love, 

the woman you called fat in the evening of November 11 in Downtown Gatlinburg, Tennessee,
also known as Julie.