The Weight of What They Say — and What I Carry Anyway
Yesterday, I had one of those encounters that reminded me how differently I’m probably viewed now that I’m no longer morbidly obese.
For those who don’t know, I’ve lost over 100 pounds — slowly, naturally, and through a lot of work, both physically and mentally. It’s changed my life in many ways. But what hasn’t changed is how people talk about bodies — especially fat ones — when they assume you’re not in one.
A woman came up to the desk at work. We started chatting about movies, and she said, “I just saw Tammy.” I started to reply, saying I thought it was funny — and she cut me off mid-sentence.
“I’m sorry,” she said loudly, “but she [Melissa McCarthy] is just disgusting. She repulses me. I don’t even want to LOOK at her.”
It was jarring — not just because it was cruel, but because of how casually she said it. Like she assumed I’d agree.
And I couldn’t stop thinking… if this had been a few years ago — when I was nearly 300 pounds — would she have even let me help her? Would she have avoided eye contact, judged me silently, or worse? Did she think I was safe now, because I looked “normal”? Did she assume I didn’t have my own history — that I wasn’t still living with it every day?
I’m sure she looked at me and assumed I’d be on her side. That because I wasn’t fat anymore, I must also be repulsed by fatness. But she didn’t know who I was. She didn’t know who I used to be. She didn’t know anything.
And that’s the problem.
People are so quick to make assumptions based on appearances. She had no idea what I went through to get here — how hard I’ve worked, how deeply it affected me. She had no idea what losing 100 pounds does to your body, your brain, your relationship with food, your sense of self. But most of all, she had no idea that fat people are still just… people. People with lives and worth and stories that deserve respect.
I’m still the same person I was before I lost the weight. The same humor. The same values. The same soft spots and sharp edges. Losing weight didn’t change my personality — it just changed how people treated me.
The truth is, I became who I am because I was fat. I leaned into humor because I didn’t feel pretty. I discovered books because I didn’t feel like I fit in. And those things? They shaped my whole life — my passions, my career, even how I met my husband. (Fun fact: we met on a weight loss app.)
So no, I won’t be agreeing with this woman. Not now, not ever. I won’t co-sign the idea that someone’s body makes them less worthy of being seen or heard or valued. I’ve been the person people whispered about. I’ve been the punchline. And now I’m the “acceptable” one — which just means I hear what people say when they think they’re among their own.
Here’s what I know for sure: someone’s size doesn’t make them ugly. But cruelty? Judgment? The kind of ugliness that shows up in how you treat other people?
That’s what’s actually repulsive.
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