I have never been fully accepted by society. Not because society hates me. But because I’m fat. People, for what ever reason, don’t like people like me.  From the moment girls started getting curvier and the boys started getting smellier, my role in society changed. Puberty does magical things to how people think and to how people treat others. Suddenly, what’s on the outside becomes more important. And having more on the outside than others is a bad thing.  

“You’re fat.”
“Thanks, I know.”

For some reason, people think that pointing out the obvious is insulting. It’s like coming up to your male friend and saying: “Hey, You’re a boy” and expecting him to break down in tears and lie curled on the floor wanting to end his life. That’s what people always do to me. They always assume that if they TELL me I’m big, I will be hurt. Do my friends really think that I don’t KNOW? Does it really seem to be possible that I’ve lived on this earth for 15 years and have never encountered a person that would point that out to me?
Well. I have.


-As I did every evening, I signed onto MSN to be greeted by my little best friend.

blueeyedshorty: Ani. How are you?
aniiscool: i’m gud how r u.

I was ten, just discovering the majestic world that was the Internet. Still learning how to find the correct letters on the keyboard and not to download viruses. I was compelled by the Internet, it was a fascinating discovery and an exciting new friend. I loved the Internet. Especially MSN, that very old school program where I could talk to my friends and send them occasional smileys (once I could figure out where to get them and how). I loved MSN. Because my friends were in it.

So, that very evening, as my ten year self was sitting at the computer and talking to her best friend, a nearly-pubescent boy decided that Ani was fat. And that he was the one who had to do something about it.

-I could feel Anastasia’s rage through my computer screen. Her words, as though possesed by an evil spirit, seemed to be poisonous with rage and disgust.

blueeyedshorty: Ani, I can’t believe he said that. How could he? I thought he was a normal guy. How could he be so rude?
aniiscool: Wat are u talkin bout.
blueyedshorty: He was talkin to me, Mark was talking to me. And he..called you…Umm. He called you ….fat. In a very mean way. I’m sorry.
aniiscool: …. so?

I couldn’t understand Anastasia’s reaction to what was going on. Mark always called her short, but she would never be as enraged as she was this very moment. My mind went blank as I looked out the window. I had a new word to describe me.   

As I came to school the next day, I greeted my classmates with a new perspective. I realized that many of them, through the smiles and the waves, knew I was fat. It didnt bother me, per say, I was just aware of that fact. I sunk into my conjoined chair-desk, the cold plastic sending shivers up my spine, letting my back pack slip off my shoulder  and onto the floor.

I was fat.

Fat.

I was fat.

The entire day, I went through the hallways thinking of what had happened to me yesterday. Of what I found out through a third party. Through an innocent middle man. Anastasia was sick, so I sat alone in the cafeteria, not wanting to make an effort to find suitable lunch mates. I just sat and stared down at my plate.

Food. Was that why I was fat? Were the potatoes the reason I was the way I was? Or was it the peas? Or the meat?

I poked around with my fork. WAS this the reason? I looked up and saw a pair of eyes staring at me. My teacher asked, cautiously, if I was feeling okay. I replied yes and shortly resumed the staring contest with my lunch.

I took a sip of water, which slowly sank into the endless pit that was my stomach, leaving a slight chill in my esophagus. I like water, I thought. I heard people laugh behind me, but not willing to turn around, I ignored it. I felt sad, disappointed and slightly shocked. What did it mean to be fat? I had more questions burning inside of me than ever before, and I didnt have suitable answers embedded in me.  But I knew that being who I was wasn’t exciting or good. Being how I was gave people the chance to use my own body against me. My vision started to blur as my eyes filled with tears. I didn’t want to start crying, but my eyes had a mind of their own. But then…
I thought of my little best friend. The one who told me the news, but not to tell me I’m fat, but to support me.

I thought of my little best friend, who has been teased for being short as long as I could remember, and I suddenly realized that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if I was fat or if she was short. It didn’t matter if she was blue and if I was purple. It didn’t matter who said what to whom and what that whom said to another. It all didn’t matter. Mark’s words weren’t worth crying for.They weren’t worth and empty stomach. They were worth nothing. Because real friends loved me for who I was, no matter how much of ME there was.

I caught the single tear that managed to escape my eye with a napkin as I picked up my fork.
I devoured the entire plate of food in front of me.
So what if it made me fat…
I had found my awesome.