Fears

I have been afraid a lot lately.

Not of anything tangible or even real, but I am afraid nonetheless.

I remember what my life was like before illness and fat changed everything.  I remember how I was.  I remember how men were with me.  I remember that I was a desirable thing, that I was a flirt (and a good one), that I was seen.

I am the same person on the inside, still a flirt, still audacious.  My sense of humor is the same, my wit, my abilities.  Only the outside has changed.

But I am no longer seen. 

Somehow, the larger my body gets the less people see me.  Really see me.  And that scares me, for many reasons.

I get the usual fat-girl complements that aren't really complements, and I try to appreciate the intentions behind them, but they still get under my skin sometimes.  The, "You have such a pretty face..." people have no idea that I can hear the the second part of that sentence, "...it's just the rest of you that's ugly."  Now, I'm hopeful that most people don't actually think that in their heads, but it's what I hear.  And I can own that and understand that I may be projecting, but I have also had people actually say the second half of that sentence to me, so I know that it's out there.

When people look at me now they don't actually see me, they see the fat.  I'm not talking about my people, the people that already know me and love me no matter what I look like.  I'm talking about people in general.  They just don't see me.

But I was meant to be seen.

And I'm afraid that I will never be seen again.  At least not in the way that I want to be seen.

I have had virtual strangers walk up to me and say very blunt, sometimes horrible, sometimes wonderful things to me.  It's that part of my personality that makes people think that they can say anything to me at any time.  That, at least, has not been hidden amongst the fat.

I had a woman walk up to me, pointing at me like she recognized me from something, and said, "Oink, oink."

I met a woman in an elevator who said out of the clear blue, "You know, you could lose that weight if you really wanted to.  You obviously just don't want to.  And you have such a pretty face..."

I met a man who said, "Call me when you lose the weight, we can maybe hook up." 

I was told by a man that, "You're fat because you had to be ugly for a while. When you need to be pretty again you'll lose it." 

That one hurt a lot.  Why does fat automatically equal ugly?  Why can't it just be fat?  After all, I have such a pretty face...

The problem is, that I want to be seen, but I also don't want anyone to see me this way. 

(If it sounds crazy to you, welcome to my brain - it's like that all the time in here).

I want someone to see me, really see me.  I want someone to look right at me and see past all the fat, all the scars, and see the girl that I am inside.  I want them to see the wit, the humor, the sass. I want them to see the me that I have always been.

But I don't want anyone to see me this way.  To see what has become of that girl that I was. 

Knowing this about myself, knowing that I am the same girl I was behind this mask of fat, I have begun to try to see people as they are, not as they seem.  I try to notice when people are invisible, try to see past whatever they have on the outside.  I always introduce myself to wait staff at restaurants because they are the most invisible people on earth, in my opinion.  I try to smile at the cranky people.  I always thank a member of the military for their service.  I have begun to look with the intent to see. 

I know that I am much more than I appear to be, the size of my body does not affect the size of my spirit.  I try to remember that about others as well.

Which brings me to my fears, or at least my recent fears...

What if this is it?  What if I never find that man who will see past all this crap and see me?  What if it is my fate to remain invisible?  I don't know if I can handle that as I am not meant to be invisible. 

I have been talking to a man from another city and he seems wonderful.  We have talked about my weight and he has said all the right things, all the right ways.  But he isn't real yet, and he won't be until we meet in person.  When we text it can go on for hours and we have had some wonderful conversations on the phone. 

But my fear is... when we actually meet in person, what if he doesn't see me?

What if he takes one look at me and realizes that he just can't?

I like this man and I would like to know him. 

Some of my fears stem from a lack of communication between us - he is back in school and has finals - but most of it stems from experience.  It comes from the men I've met that start out with romantic intentions, who then turn right around and say, "I wish I could find a girl just like you." 

Well, there is only one girl just like me, she just happens to be fat. 


Right now I am just trying to contain my fear so that I don't project any of it onto this man, who seems really great.  But it's difficult.

As I stare at my phone and wait for a text or a call I feel like an idiot.  I feel like a teenager who doesn't know who she is yet, but just hopes that the boy will call. 

I know who I am.  I know where I've been.  I know where I want to go, I just don't want to go there alone.

And I'm so scared that he won't see me. 

It's fears like this that make me want to rage: against steroids, against illness, against myself.  It was I, after all, that allowed things to get this bad, that hid my head in the sand as my body warped into this thing it is now.

I'm just too tired to rage, though.  I'm tired, and I'm scared, and I'm sad.

But I remain oddly optimistic that this man will, somehow, see me.  That he is for real, that he is what he says, and that he wants me in spite of my fat. 

Only time will tell...