No. They don’t. I disagree with this statement entirely. I get where my sister’s coming from with her commentary because nobody likes to be pushed, challenged, or told NO better than I do; but calling a person anything, especially fat, just isn’t kind.
You might have noticed that in the past two months, I’ve firmed my body to a state that I consider heavenly. I awaken each morning and exclaim, “What a great day! I’m so excited for every bit of what’s to come!” I’ve been so happy. With a body full of muscle instead of flab, I am confident and know that I’m in complete control of my physical body, at last.
And here’s a secret: I started fine-tuning the diet and exercise two months ago all because of one blog comment, submitted anonymously, on the night of my birthday dinner party with girlfriends at Kaya. I deleted, never publishing, the comment because it was so ugly, and I can’t remember the words verbatim, but we can piece it back together.
The commenter used the word “paunchy” to describe my arms. These arms.
And, a few days earlier, at What-I-Ate-On-My-Birthday (note: my food is completely different now than what’s presented in that birthday post), the same commenter submitted this criticism:
I can’t believe how little you eat relative to how big you still you are. You must have really blown out your metabolism. Sad, at 33 to have to subsist on virtually nothing or you blow up like a balloon again.
And although I replied like this,
I am very pleased and proud of my body and nutrition…
I knew more could be done with my physical self, and if I could accomplish my goals, would be my test. If I could fine tune my diet, would be my test. If I could fine tune my exercise, would be my test. And when I awakened, a few days later, on Valentine’s Day, to a divorcing of the eating disorder after 16 complete years of marriage, to caring more about the gentleness in my skin than about the hardness presented to the world, everything fell into place and I cut off those extra inches of chub. Of PAUNCH.
In recapping this information to my sister, telling her that someone called me “paunchy,” and this is what “triggered” me to get serious, she replied, “Everyone needs someone to call them fat.”
And I disagree. It’s toxic. Calling anyone anything derogatory is toxic. This past weekend, someone that exists in my life paid me a wonderful compliment, stating that he observed someone in Sewickley reading Atlas Shrugged and offered to her, “Oh! You must be a self-directed, independent thinker!” I was so very happy to see that this person actually took the careful time to understand the philosophy that I adore, that of objectivism, despite his complete embodiment of socialist ideals.
But later that day, this person emailed me, stating, “I’m glad you had a good Easter, independent-thinking, Ayn Rand emulator.” Ayn Rand emulator? The negative of “emulator” more than canceled the positive of this entire scenario. I emulate nobody. I am me. It just so happens that my way of living and thinking directly parallels that of Ms. Rand’s, but I have something more powerful in my pocket than did Ms. Rand. I have a social worker conscious. I never replied to the guy who emailed me, I just accepted it, contemplating if engaging in argument was worth my time and energy, deciding to walk onward without the toxic word battle. And then minutes later, I received an email about Gwendolyn, and the world was a happy place again.
So, in summary, nobody deserves to be told that they’re fat. An emulator. A what-have-you. Stick to the movie star comparisons. Tell me that I resemble a young Marisa Tomei because I do. 🙂 Go about the world with peace, and think before you speak.
Have a good day, and namaste.
What do you think about calling people fat?