Plus Size From C

Where We Dare to Write the Truth About Being Big

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Showed Up & Showed Out: What confidence looks and sounds like in real life!

By Miss Kesha 11.5.09

I never had any issues growing up as a big girl.  I mean, I look like the women in my family.  We are all “big.” Just different sizes of “big.”  I was raised to be self confident.  I had this aunt always taking pictures of my cousin and me saying “Y’all are so cute, we’re going to Hollywood.”  To this day I still LOVE taking pictures – but now I know I’m not going to Hollywood.

No one in my family ever made fun of me because of my weight.  There was no talking down to me because of my weight – None of that.  When the doctor said I needed to cut back on certain things, hell, my mom, grandmother, and sister cut back with me!

My friends – they love me.  Never disrespected me for the size I was.  I have not experienced being taunted by children because of my size.  Guess I was so nice, the kids looked past me being big.  If there was any negativity towards me, I never knew of it.

I mean, I have this one skinny friend from high school who said she wanted to gain weight because I got all the men.  Said it wasn’t fair.  This girl was serious.  As far as me getting all the men, well, I lived in an area where there were a lot of folks from the Caribbean.  Hell, from what I saw, the majority of those men loved big girls.  Maybe if I lived somewhere else, it would have been different for me.

I went out and about and enjoyed myself.  Went to high school dances.  Went to parties – though they were not my thing.  I did try the “plus-sized” party circuit a few times and discovered that it was NOT for me.  I had more fun at the “regular” party.  I never let my weight ruin a good time for me.

My adult life.  Hmmm.  A man once called me a fat ass because I was taking too long cutting him a welfare check.  So what.  Big deal.  It didn’t ruin my life.  There was no “woe is me” or wanting to go into hiding.

Folks have always complimented me on my style.  Love how I dress.  Didn’t understand how I wore stilettos.  And this was when I was at my highest weight ever.  I’m a fashionable big girl.  Always SHOWED UP and SHOWED OUT.  Even dabbled in plus sized modeling.  You couldn’t tell me I wasn’t hot.  And 58lbs down, I’m still hot with friends calling me Diva and Major Fab!

Do I have insecurities?  Sure I do. But doesn’t everyone no matter their size?

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Serious Observations on a Weighty Issue by Tracy Hale

I’ve been what people politely referred to as a “big girl” ever since my late teenage years. I was once an athlete.  I played volleyball and would lift weights with the wrestling team.

At seventeen I was the classic definition of a brick shithouse – 40DD chest, defined waist and hips reminiscent of a coke bottle, 5’7”  and 205 lbs.  Still, I remember once working myself insane by riding 15 miles on a stationary bike in an hour every night for a month and seriously monitoring every bite that went into my mouth  and losing about 20 pounds. After graduation and almost complete cessation of any regular exercise, my weight started going up.

Through marriage, giving birth and divorce my weight continued its steady, slow uptake.  I was in denial. I didn’t have a lot of the issues other very large women had.  My self-esteem was firmly in check. I kept myself well-groomed and I knew how to act.  Because of my upbringing, I had all kinds of personality.  I never had a problem getting asked out, and I was Hella-social.  My friends never treated me like a fat girl, even though I have always been the largest of my circle.

I had a friend who was pressed as hell to have gastric bypass surgery. She was a size 28 and wanted to be a 2. That boggled my mind. I’ve never wanted to be that size. I felt that her motivation was somewhat misplaced, but I understood her struggle and her desire for acceptance.

I enjoyed real food in copious amounts, but I was never one to eat four Big Macs and four large orders of fries, or a dozen eggs and a pound of bacon at a time.  For the longest time the idea of surgery was completely out of the question for me, until I started having back problems.

I had my procedure in January of 1999 and over the course of the next year I lost a fair amount of weight, but I was still a big woman. I worked out religiously for a long time and I was still  big by normal size people standards. I’d rollerblade, walk and jog.  I skated six miles a day during the week and would complete a ten miler on the weekend. I owned a NordicTrack and used to hit that joker intensely for about 45 minutes a day five days a week.

As I lost weight people expected me to become wild,  but the opposite happened. I saw the change in the world’s reaction to me and sort of retreated into myself.  I realize that I wasted an opportunity and let life get in the way. After about the fourth year, the weight started creeping back up and I’m sad to say that I have indeed gained it all back. A couple of years ago I started going to the gym three times a week but I got discouraged and gave it up.

I have to say that I realize every inch of my considerable bulk, and frankly I’m nervous. I’m nervous as hell. I wonder if the day is coming soon when I may have to purchase two tickets on an airline as I already need a seat belt extender.  I’ve become somewhat antisocial (part of it is maturity,  I don’t do clubs anymore) but I find myself fading back more than I ever used to even when I’m in the midst of “family.”

One night before my birthday celebration I wanted to wear a pair of gorgeous Kenneth Cole sandals that have an ankle strap. When I tell y’all I had to do advanced yoga to get them blickies strapped and by the time I was done I was sweating, I am so serious.

I wonder if I’ve reached that size where people have to tell their children not to stare or point. I don’t wear shorts, even in the hottest part of the summer. I have had to leave a ride because the safety bar wouldn’t click.  Movie theater seats are tight. Depending on how I have the seat reclined, the seatbelts on the driver’s side are tight.  Going to restaurants is a nail biter because I’m cautious about squeezing by people; about squeezing into tables or booths that are uncomfortable.  When I rode the Metro to work, I would stand all the way to Greenbelt even when I was exhausted to avoid getting the gasface from someone who didn’t want to be all squeezed up against me.

I even thought about getting an elliptical machine and was somewhat shocked to learn that most commercially available exercise equipment isn’t built for folks in my particular weight class. Y’all have no idea how shameful that is, because it limits the options of how you get started.

Still It’s hard to wrap my mind around it all.. I’m highly flexible. I can still do splits. If I use a balance ball I can bend over backward and do a bridge.  I can stand up, bend at the waist and put my hands flat on the floor.  I’m still stronger with more muscle underneath all this pudge than folks might think.

I know I won’t always have the advantage of youth to fall back on, however.  I know that I’m smart.  The world reinforces to me regularly that I am still beautiful and fly and witty and hilarious and a great catch but deep down inside the truth is eating away at me (pardon the pun).

What’s the truth?
I am a fat girl. In a way that is just sincerely not acceptable anymore.  And the time is long gone for me to do something about it. I’m nervous because I almost don’t know where to start.  I know that there is no magic pill or button to push. It’s going to be a really long, uphill battle and I’m not likely to share much of that struggle openly, but I felt like I needed to put a voice to my feelings on the matter.  ~10.6.09