Why is my body your problem?

Another day, another chance to tell someone what I used to do for a living and be called a liar. It’s impossible that someone as fat as I am was ever a model, a background actress, someone who was loved and followed….

It’s true my friends, this used to be me:

My first Youtube videos sucked,  but they still got thousands of views. It was pretty easy to get followers back then, and still is now, just by being thin. I’m not going to say “thin and pretty” because these days nobody seems to care how pretty you are, just how many of your bones show.

If you watched that video, you probably didn’t notice the slight trip at the end. That’s all I notice every time I watch it. You might see a pretty girl in a short skirt or, as many guys commented, you might think you saw my underpants at one point (you didn’t, it’s weird lighting bouncing off that silver dress) but I see someone who was very sick.

At that time I was working out 6-9 hours a day, and eating once every third day. I got dizzy and light-headed but ignored it, always feeling I needed to portray this persona of the dumb, pretty girl who was just SO SWEET.

Someone nothing bad ever happened to.

I did it because I was told to. As a chunky teenager, I thought I was pretty. I liked wearing short skirts and tops that accentuated my curves. I liked how soft and cuddly my body felt, and the way I was always warm even when other people were cold. I had thick, long, beautiful hair and a great relationship with food. I never pigged out, loved fruit and vegetables, and was a vegetarian from a very young age. I was healthy.

In high school, I learned really quickly that I wasn’t allowed to be happy, healthy, and fat at the same time. Boys never asked me out, even though all of the other girls in my grade were dating. People followed me home from school throwing rocks at the back of my head. I tried going to the playground to watch my brother and his friends play derby, but my brother would laugh me off the playground and they would all scream “boom-babba boom-babba-boom” (the chant from Stand by Me: thanks Columbia Pictures) as I ran from the playground crying.

The kids who did hang out with me did so privately, and told me I was never allowed to speak to them  in public. The guy I had a crush on dated an endless stream of skinny blonde girls, and said I was “the coolest girl” he’d ever met. If I was so cool,why didn’t he date me?

It didn’t take long for the people in my life to teach me how to hate my body. I was made fun of all day at school, and then when I tried to grab a snack out of the fridge at home my brother would make fun of me. He would pinch my stomach and say “are you seriously going to eat that apple, fatass?”

I didn’t  have a name. That was my name: Fatass. Fat Pig. Fat Girl.

By the time I was sixteen, I  understood that there was something wrong with my strong, healthy body. That I had to fix it to fit in. I became severely depressed and very close to suicidal. I wasn’t allowed to live in the world. I wasn’t allowed to have friends. I wasn’t allowed to go out and couldn’t even go home. Everywhere I went was a battleground because the world owned my body and had decided it wasn’t good enough.

I won’t post the details of what I did or how I abused myself to lose over 100 lbs in a single year. I won’t post the details because I don’t want anyone using this method to do the same thing. I know there are girls who will see this as a positive choice, and I know from experience that a lot of people don’t care what happened to my body, as long as I ended up looking the way THEY wanted me to look at the end of the day.

I can tell you that at the end of that video I nearly fell over because I got dizzy, and my equilibrium was starting to go. That year was nothing but health problems. The worst were the vertigo attacks I started getting from malnutrition. I’d just be standing there, in my living room or at the top of a flight of stairs, and suddenly the room would start in on a slow, sick spin. The kind that sends you running to the washroom wanting to throw up, but you can’t bend over or it’s going to get worse. Fun times.

I can’t tell you how fun being skinny was. Everybody wanted to be around me all the time, especially the creepiest weirdos in the world. Other girls hated me just for existing, and would give me dirty looks. I got accused of sleeping with everybody’s boyfriend. At University, people assumed I was a spoiled rich bitch and made loud comments about it.

Everything I achieved must be because I was sleeping with someone. When I got good marks, it was because I was screwing the prof or the TA. Everything I said was “cute” or “dumb”, nothing I said or did mattered, and men in their fifties thought I owed them something.

I was surrounded at all times by unattractive men begging me to be with them because “no girl wanted them”. By no girl, they meant no tall, skinny girl. I remembered being overweight and wanting them, and how none of them talked to me.

Gradually, I started to get sicker and sicker until I put myself in the hospital. The friends I made working on movie shoots did about as well as I did in life: they died, or got injured, overdosed, got too sick from anorexia to leave their houses, or developed severe anxiety that kept them inside.

Is that really our idea of the perfect woman? One beaten down from a happy kid who loves herself to a skinny teenager who can see her ribcage through what used to be her breasts, sick, weak, miserable, and scared all the time? Can that really be what men want?

More importantly, if it is, why would we indulge it.

Now I’m 36 years old, and it’s taken me this long to say this without fear.


You don’t get to tell me what to do with it. You don’t get to tell me I’m not allowed to inhabit this space, to wear this outfit, to even GO OUTSIDE without your permission! And you don’t get to tell any girl who she is based on what she looks like.

The next time you want to judge someone for her body, whether it’s acceptable or not, fat or thin, big boobs or small, symettrical or assymetrical, stop.

The next time you want to pretend you are only talking about someone’s cosplay when you’re really trying to body shame them, stop. I don’t want to hear about how the outfit is “innacurate”….in fact, I’ll make you a deal

Don’t laugh at my Sakura cosplay, and I won’t laugh at your Rangiku 🙂

And can we just talk about sex appeal for a second?

Back when I was “attractive to men”, I did not look like a woman. Not to me, anyway. I hope I don’t offend any naturally slim girls by saying this, but I had no breasts, my body was nothing but a bag of bones, and I had to buy clothes meant for male children in order to have anything fit me. That one mini dress from Le Chateau was probably the only dress I could find, and it hung off me even though it was supposed to be a bodycon dress. It made me wonder…is this what dudes find sexy? Other guys?

A lot of guys dated me, but they didn’t want to bring me home. They weren’t actually attracted to me as anything but a status symbol. Something to cart around and show off their status to other guys.

Once I gained the weight (and thank goodness my breasts) back again, I had a lot more requests to hang out with guys. My boyfriends were excited to spend bedroom time with me again and genuinely attracted to what they saw under my clothes




none of them would take me out in public. The few that did, were ostracized by their disgusted friends. How dare they date some THING like me? Being me was wrong and not allowed, and


I’ve seen a lot of posts and memes that say men aren’t guilty for the way women feel about themselves, that men are “allowed to have a preference” and it’s “not their fault they aren’t into fat chicks”.

And that’s fine…if it were true.

Plenty of guys are into skinny chicks. Plenty of guys are into fat chicks. There are even guys who decide who to date based on who she is as a person, not her race, religion, color, or body type. Granted, those are few and far between but they exist.

But guys who are interested in bigger women are the only ones being SHAMED for who they’re dating. They’re the only ones being made fun of when they show up to an event with me, the only ones being insulted for daring to go out in public with (oh nooooo) a “fat chick”.

What’s the difference between being a fat guy and being a fat girl? If you’re a girl, people judge you based on your body. If you’re a guy, people judge you based on your girlfriend’s body.

Nothing is going to get better, dudes, until you let your friends date whoever the hell they want, and stop judging them. Stop using the word “hot” to describe girls you aren’t actually attracted to, just because a magazine told you it was acceptable. Don’t scream “boom-babba-boom-babba” with the crowd, and then come to my house three hours later with some lame-ass apology, saying you actually think I’m really pretty but you had to go along with those other guys, and if I’m okay with it you’d love to take me out on  a date…

You know, as long as it’s in the dark. Somewhere private. Where nobody we know will be and nobody is going to see you with me.

And if you fit one of the categories of people being insulted

If, like basically ALL of us, you are too fat, too thin, too tall, too short, have weird teeth, stupid eyebrows, weird hair….

Or if people tell you how perfect you are all day every day, but you really wish they would accept you another way….

If you’re a skinny girl who wishes she was fat, a boy who wishes you had been born a girl, a human who wishes you were born a cat, I don’t care.


Hey…I like you.

I like you a lot more than those idiots who chased me home screaming boom-babba-boom, or those chicks who roll their eyes at me when I suggest that we could talk to eachother, even though I’m fat and you’re skinny. Like I’m supposed to apologize for existing.

Sorry peoples!

I exist 😉

If you want to see someone say all of this a lot better than I just did, check out this video


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