Those who know me in person have at least heard of my ugly encounter with the “beautiful people” this weekend, and a few were physically present for it. For those not in the immediate loop, I went to a Midwestern attempt at a launch party. A friend of mine was representing an up-and-coming makeup company, and I went to support her and to take a look at the “who” of the local couture market. I am a perfumer, so these folks could also be my customer base.
So there I went, all five foot eight and three hundred pounds of myself, and I towered over quite literally a sea of size 2-4s, many of whom showed the physical signs of both anorexia and overtanning, including the dry and early-aged skin and a certain hollow, flaccid look to the skin that can only come from vitamin deficiency. The music was loud, the people were shallow, and I decided that I’d made my appearance and seen my friend, so it was time to leave.
Just as I turned to leave, some guy apparently taking offense to the presence of a “fatty” in his sanctum of limited depth, actually chased after me to throw a drink at me.
In the movies, when a fat girl is attacked, she runs away crying. In real life, this fat girl threw a glass at his head (it was plastic and all I had in my hand), told her friend, found the host, told her, and left the guy and his girlfriend slinking around the party trying to avoid getting thrown out.
This is me. This isn’t what I was wearing at the party – but it represents who I am and how I look pretty well right now:
I am not some badass fat-rights crusader who goes out looking for trouble and drama. Nor am I a Tyra Banks, who, the minute she takes some weight off, is going to abandon the “fat rights” cause that’s pumping so many ratings into her show. I am a big boned, big-bellied, big butt woman of Slavic heritage. I can’t physically drop below a size 14 without surgery and significant risk to my health. Yes, I am dieting, and exercising a minimum of three hours a week, and I am losing inches but not weight. As for surgery, my annual blood tests show perfect cholesterol and no diabetes – my response to medical professionals who have recommended it has been to question their ethics and been worded in a way that I probably shouldn’t print here.
What I am is a strong, intelligent woman with a very low threshold for bullshit. What happened Friday night didn’t make me feel marginalized as it was intended to. It made me feel powerful. These people are so threatened and fearful of a little fat that they’ll attack, but run screaming when the fat chick fights back.
I’m still going to go to those parties. I might take a super-soaker the next time for the next drunken idiot, but let me make this very clear: I will NOT disappear.
