Yesterday on Twitter I was called a fat ass bitch. The rest of the tweet didn’t bother me, but when I saw the word FAT my blood was boiling. I didn’t care about being called a bitch. If I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch, but why do I have to be a fat bitch? Or a fat ass bitch, for that matter?
I hate that word. It has become a derogatory term for overweight people, just as the F word is for gay people, or the R word is for people with special needs. More often than not, it is used to be hurtful, not merely to describe a person’s appearance.
My weight is a sensitive matter, just as I’m sure it is for every other woman in the world. I had two kids back-to-back. I didn’t have the opportunity to lose the weight from baby #1, before getting pregnant with baby #2. And finding the time to exercise with two little ones is not easy. I’m trying to lose weight, but it is hard!
It hurts when someone calls me fat, especially when it is said maliciously. It is just a reminder that when people look at me, they notice my weight. At times I wish I could stay hidden in the comfort of my home until I lose the weight and my appearance is up to society’s standards. But that isn’t an option.
Being overweight is something I think about all the time, when I’m getting dressed, when I’m showering, when I’m shopping for clothes, when I’m going out to dinner, when people stare at me. It’s something I can’t help but think of especially when society puts such an emphasis on appearances.
Many people like to teach compassion, however, I like to teach empathy. Put yourself in the other person’s shoes and try to identify with their feelings. Just because you may feel you weren’t being offensive or hurtful doesn’t mean you didn’t come across that way. Our feelings are our own.
Next time you call someone fat, think twice about how that may have made the other person feel. I guarantee that it stung, even if just a little.