A Big Ol’ Peach In A Lil’ Ol’ Orchard


Just sayin’.

You wanna know something random that annoys me?  When people assume that, because I’m a big girl, I want to sit in the front seat of the car. Like I am too fat to sit in a normal seat and must be accommodated. Like, when there’s a group of us and we are taking all the seats in the front and back, including the middle seat, I automatically get shotgun. Like I’m just sooo big that I’ll squish everyone in the backseat with my bigness and all the skinny people will be unable to breathe because they are smothered by my elbow fat and smushed against the window, desperately trying to flag down passing motorists for help.


Yeah, I’m going for the gut today (no pun intended). Sometimes people just assume that you’re too big to cope with everyday life and have to somehow be handled differently. Not that I MIND getting shotgun, it’s just rude when it’s decided that I should ride in the front, typically by others while I’m standing RIGHT THERE but not by actually asking me or flat out saying “hey big girl, you ride in front ’cause you’re big” . Big fat peaches have feelings just like the little peaches. No need to talk about me like I’m not there. I CAN FUCKING HEAR YOU and it’s rude.


You know what else bugs me? Assuming that somehow my day-to-day is different because I’m plus sized. I shop, go to work, go to church, walk around theme parks, drive my car, hit the beach, hold my fiance’s hand, and I do all of this without sweating profusely due to fatigue, wearing muumuus or having to use a scooter. In the grand scheme of things I’m very fortunate that I can pretty much do the stuff I want to do, and not be hindered by size or health or whatever.


I’m not minimizing the fact that I need to lose weight: I know this. That’s not the point. It’s my own struggle, no need to take any of my issues on to yourself. When I need something, I’ll ask for it. I’m not putting discomfort upon you, so why should you care what my deal is? If I am not encroaching upon you, leave me be.


When I lived in Georgia, I rarely felt out of place because I was a big girl. I worked with theater people that were obsessed about their weight and would often comment about how “fat” they were. I’d think “really??! REALLY?!?!” but ultimately just keep it to myself, since each person sees themselves differently, and to one person a size 6 IS fat, etc., etc. I didn’t think too much of it on a regular basis until I moved to Orlando, and I’m surrounded on a daily basis by skinny white chicks who call each other fat, guys that call girls fat, and places that make you feel like you’re too big to be in the room. Somehow, somewhere in the equation, “fat” began to equal “ugly”. It sucks because I unintentionally bought into that idea, and let my self-identity suffer as a result.


At my lowest point of self-esteem after moving here to Orlando, I remember leaving a club downtown because I felt like the fattest, ugliest girl in the room. My friends were all getting hit on, and I felt like the fat ugly chick that skinny girls always bring along just to make themselves feel better. Not that my friends felt this way! The exhaustion of always putting on a happy face and smiling even though I felt like a loser finally got to me, and I retreated. I’m ashamed to admit that this happened more than once. It’s sad, and I hope that no one ever feels the way I did.


I’m not sure when things began to change but I got better at hiding when people’s unheeding comments hurt my feelings. So much so that it surprises my friends sometimes when I finally do admit how vulnerable  I get about the little stuff, like not being able to fit on the Harry Potter Ride, or going to try on wedding dresses at a boutique and being told that they don’t have dresses in my size. A confident exterior is just that, an exterior. Sh!t still hurts.


Eventually keeping up the strong exterior makes it easier to be stronger inside too. I’m getting there, slowly but surely. Having someone that loves you, just REALLY LOVES you for who you are, no change necessary, helps. A lot of stuff doesn’t bug me anymore, but every once in a while, something stupid like giving me shotgun because you think I’m too big to sit in the back, really sets me off. My busty-ness and big peach shaped ass bother you? SUCK IT! And scoot over, ’cause I wanna sit in the back.




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