Watching Shrill, being fat, and orange blossoms
There are exactly two people in this world who have heard me really talk about being fat. Some friends may have heard a comment here and there, but for the most part, I have worked very hard to NOT be a person who is always saying, “Oh, I’m so fat. I need to lose weight.” Or, “Look at my belly! Get into my belly.” (That is a reference to Fat Bastard from the Austin Powers franchise. It was a different time.)
After I wrote last night to begin this weird journey of self-exploration in front of the world (or at least the 4 of you who are reading this), I turned on another episode of Shrill starring Aidy Bryant. There are moments when I watch this or other “body positive” television and I feel empowered and strong. But, I will confess that most of the time I am just feeling confused and sometimes sad.
I have not claimed that I will be writing anything new. There is nothing new to see here. But, it is me. Just me in this Year 49. And, I’m fat. And, like so many things in my life, I am very well aware that I am fat — in my mind. Logically I understand that I am obese according to the medical professionals. But, in the same way that I know in my brain that God does not get kicks out of striking us down with a terminal disease, if I’m being honest, there are moments in my life that I behave like I believe just the opposite.
So, I KNOW I’m fat. Don’t be confused. But, I can’t SEE it. I guess it is like a version of Anorexia where the person who is clearly so thin and unhealthy looks in the mirror and only sees fat. I’ve gotten better about it. My husband helped me with that.
Now, before you get in an uproar and want to dox my wonderful hubby, let me give you the context. You still won’t like it very much, but just know that I asked for it and was a willing participant.
This was many years ago and almost 100 pounds ago — so yeah, I was wondering if I was fat before I was fat. That is for another therapy session. I was definitely gaining weight and pretty rapidly after marrying my “high school sweetheart.” He wasn’t really. We met at church camp. He is four years older than me, so we were never in high school together. Even if we were the same age, he lived across town, so it wouldn’t have been a holding hands next to the locker kind of affair no matter what. The point is that we were young!
I don’t remember how we started talking about my weight. Maybe I was complaining about the way his family members had been laughing about how much weight I had gained at the last family gathering. (It was a different time.) Whatever the case, I have no recollection of it being a big deal. I wasn’t upset. He wasn’t nagging. But, I confessed to him that when I think about myself, the image in my mind is not reality. He, of course, being such a pragmatic soul, was confounded by this ability to trick yourself into believing just about anything you want about yourself. But, I asked him to help me. I said, “You start pointing out women who are about the same size and shape I am.” He asked me many times if I was serious and sure about this system. But, I needed help. I seriously could not see it. We happened to be on vacation at that time and we were touring a small tourist town so we were passing a lot of people. Being the very kind-hearted man he is, he said he was not willing to point and say, “She is as fat as you are!” So, we created a code word. I don’t remember who thought of it first, but we agreed that it was perfect.
“Orange Blossom.”
If he said, “orange blossom,” I knew that we were near someone who was about the same size and shape as myself. And, it was a real eye-opener.
I was never able to do that military way to tell direction — she is at your 3:45 is meaningless to me. Okay, I know enough about it to know that it would not be 3:45, but I still would likely look at my 9:00 instead of 3:00. Hubby loves this way of giving direction because it can be done discretely without calling attention to himself. We still get into arguments when he has to break down and flat out point toward something in order to get my eye to go where he wants it to go. So, at first he would try, “Orange blossom, five o’clock.” But, eventually he would just have to describe what the person was wearing so I could make the connection. And, most of the time, I was shocked. I would not have put myself into that same category. I would not have believed the orange blossom and I looked similarly. I really cannot see it.
Because of this system, I am better today (this has been close to thirty years now!) at understanding my size and shape, but not completely. That brings me to Aidy Bryant, the very funny woman who plays the lead in Shrill. I think she is so cute! And, of course, she has great costumes given to her by a team, so her clothes always fit perfectly. So, sometimes, and yes, you read that SOMETIMES, meaning I have had to do this multiple times because I forget, I will be watching it and think, “She looks great!” That leads me down the path of “Is Aidy Bryant an orange blossom?” And, with the help of the internet, I can usually find her height and weight for any given period of time. That must be such a bonus for all the women who are actors in Hollywood! And, guess what. She is NOT an orange blossom. She is so much smaller than me and she is playing the FAT GIRL! What the hell?
There was one time I was watching the Showtime series, On Becoming a God in Central Florida and one of the couples were having an intimate moment and I realized I was kind of turned off by it because they are not your typical Hollywood couple, if you know what I mean. I thought, “Surely she is not an orange blossom.” And, thanks to the internet once again, I was able to look up this actor’s private information and found out, Yep! Same weight. Same height. Different feeling. I was not thinking, “Oh she is so cute.” What is up with that?
And, I have no answer to that. I will go back to costumes for a moment. They really do make a huge difference. And, Bets Gomes of Central Florida had to buy her clothes from all the same places I have to buy mine. I think it would be easier to be fat and proud if I had a tailor made dress that fell perfectly at my calves and accented my boobs just so.
Clothes wouldn’t make all the difference, though. I know that. I mean even Lizzo has backtracked a bit from her fat body positive sermons, not that she is known for wearing a lot of clothes. I’m not here to solve any problem. There are enough people working on that. I am here simply to acknowledge that I don’t feel fat. (Yes, yes, some days I do feel every single ounce I carry, but for the most part, I am not seeing in my mind’s eye what you are seeing when you look at me.) I’m not delusional. I know what I weigh and Zoom through the pandemic has certainly made it harder to live in any kind of denial. Mostly, I just find it utterly fascinating that someone else needs to point out an orange blossom for me to be able to get a clue what I look like to the world. It isn’t good or bad. It just is. This is me at 49.
