#FatGirlProblems
Yesterday I watched a video of a commercial in which the two entrance doors of a building were labeled “beautiful” and “average.” It records how the women felt after choosing one label over another. As soon as I saw the purpose of the doors I thought, “there should be a third door labeled fat for me.” I realized in that moment that this labeling had been increasing in my thoughts and language.
I thought of three times I jokingly referred to #FatGirlProblems in the past week. I wondered if I was the only one? No, Twitter reveals #FatGirlProblems to be a popular hashtag used by many beautiful women, thin and heavy alike. Common among them was not their dress size, but the way they talked to themselves and about themselves.
For as long as I can remember I’ve been the fat girl. In fourth grade, a classmate asked me if I was big boned or just fat. In sixth grade I weighed 160 pounds. I remember thinking many adults weighed close to that. If I could maintain that weight until adulthood I would be normal.
High school brought Spirit Week which meant costume contests. One year I dressed up as Miss America. I still remember the laughter of the popular girls. “Like she could ever be in a beauty pageant.”
College came and I found myself orchestrating a banquet. One of the guys carrying in a wicker bench stated it was on loan with a weight restriction of 200 pounds. After relaying the news, he looked a bit startled, turned to me, and said, “no offence.” I was too stunned to reply that I weighed 170 at the time.
After a tumultuous senior year and a move into my first full-time job my weight rose to 230 pounds. I joined a popular weight loss program, bought their pre-packaged food items, and went to the meetings. Ten weeks and four pounds later, I quit the program.
A few years later, my job became increasingly stressful and I found myself eating half of what I was accustomed to taking in. I fairly quickly dropped ten pounds. But as quickly as I lost the weight, I stopped losing the weight. I decided once again to try professional help.
I joined a gym and met with a personal trainer. I encouraged several other friends to come to the gym with me. I was having fun, getting stronger, and fitting into smaller clothes. I felt great, and for the first time in my life, I felt that I looked great too. After a year of hard work I had finally managed to dip beneath the 200 mark.
I was proud of my accomplishment, but a friend let me know that I was pretty and smart, but if I ever wanted to get married, I would have to lose more weight. Men are visual creatures after all. I argued on the outside, but inside I accepted that he was right.
Shortly after that I took a new job in a new state and decided to go back to school as well. Gone was my disposable income and time. I quickly gained back the 30 pounds I had struggled so hard to lose. I was discouraged and tired of trying. If all the weight returned the second I quit spending hours in the gym every week, how could I possibly live like that?
Since then I have tried new diets, and purchased my share of exercise DVD’s while begging God for answers and watching the numbers on the scale go up. In my research, I have discovered that there is a condition that explains my symptoms, but with very little hope for a positive resolution.
In some ways, having a label has helped. At least I know what I’m up against. But in the knowing I have realized that I have an even greater battle to face than the weight.
It’s a battle of the mind.
The hardest hurdle I face is my own opinion of myself. It colors everything I do. I question how someone like me can lead a ministry when I imagine others criticizing my obvious lack of self-control, laziness, and gluttony. I think of others passing by Forgetting the Fairy Tale as being irrelevant…the author obviously isn’t married because of weight issues so why should I listen to what she has to say?
I think often of the apostle Paul and his thorn in the flesh. He begged God for a reprieve to no avail. But in his weakness, God’s strength was put on display. Maybe my thorn in the flesh is just that…my ample flesh. I might never be the thin girl I hope to become. But maybe, just maybe, God wants to use me anyway. Maybe my willingness to teach and lead others regardless of how they receive me is a way to glorify God in my weakness. Maybe God can use my honest struggle to help someone else that feels they have no hope? Maybe God can take the five loaves and two fishes that is my body and and my desire to serve Him and use them to do the impossible?
And maybe He can use that thing that you hate about yourself to do the same.
Photo credit: chrisphoto / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND