#YesAllWomen

I've been thinking a lot about the #yesallwomen twitter campaign that developed last week following the horrible massacre in Santa Barbara.  As I read some of the top tweets and news articles related to the problems of sexual assault and objectification of women and the vulnerability women and girls feel in daily life, I was thinking about how being obese offers a certain reprieve  I remember reading Fat Is A Feminist Issue a long time ago and it was the first time I thought about the connection between my weight and my sense of personal safety.  The truth is that while being obese is very difficult for me emotionally, it does make me feel protected.  Obese women in our society move through the world with a type of invisibility.  I've been thin before and I know that unwanted stares, cat calls, being hit on by random men are all way more common when you're not obese.  I used to be incredibly scared of becoming the victim of a violent crime by men, so much so that I avoided going out after dark alone, getting into elevators, even letting in repairmen, because I was afraid.  Those fears have minimized a lot over time, which is a good thing, and I'm a little worried that when I start losing weight, some of my fears will resurface.

When I first came out as a lesbian, my mother (see disclaimer/admission of guilt below) asked me if the reason I wanted to be in a relationship with a woman was because losing weight was really hard and most straight men don't find overweight women attractive.  I didn't appreciate the question- both because it expressed doubt about the truth of my identity and also because it was another example of the destructive messages I heard throughout my childhood about how being fat made a miserable, lonely life inevitable and that only thin women had permission to see themselves as beautiful.

When I was in college, I went through a period of extreme dieting and lost about 40 pounds, becoming truly thin for the first time since before puberty.  I thought that since being overweight was such a dreadful fate that when I lost the weight I would be happy and feel pretty for the first time.  It didn't happen- other people- men and women- gave me lots of positive feedback about my appearance but I felt uglier than ever.  All of the self-criticism and negative messages I used to tell myself about my weight I just transferred onto other aspects of my appearance- my skin, my nose, my teeth, you name it.  I got very seriously depressed because a key part of my worldview, my belief that thin=happy and my weight was THE priority problem in my life, turned out to be totally bogus.  Within a year I started gaining weight and by the time I graduated from college I had put back on the 40 pounds plus an extra 25.  That was over 15 years ago.  I embark on this new weight loss journey much more cautious and aware of my baggage and woundedness- hopeful that weight loss will help me feel good about myself while also knowing that it's in no way a magic solution.

special note: I feel very guilty writing about my mother but there's just no way I can be honest in this blog without acknowledging the realities of my formative experiences, including my mother's own struggles with weight and body image and the way the messages she gave me about these issues impacted (and, to be honest, traumatized)- me.  I love her and she loves me- and my mother never intended to cause me pain or distress- I know that for sure  I hope if she ever reads this blog she will not be too hurt by my words and will understand that my intention is never to embarrass or malign her, only to help myself work through my issues in the service of healing and growth.