I Was the Fat Girl by Kristen Houghton

During a thirtieth birthday celebration at a favorite restaurant, the birthday boy, Rob, made an announcement to all of us. After almost a year of being divorced, he was ready to start serious dating again. We were thrilled by the news because he is a great guy, good-looking and smart, with a lot to offer. Everybody immediately began to think of single women we knew who might be interested in meeting this terrific guy.

David, one of the men at our table saw a female colleague across the room and excused himself to go say hello. When he came back to our table, he gestured in the woman’s direction and said that perhaps Rob might be interested in meeting her.

“Lindsey is fantastic. She’s traveled around the world twice, knows her way around Rome as easily as she does New York City and she’s in the middle of changing careers from teaching to law. You should meet her. You two might have a lot in common. She’s…”

“Fat. I don’t date fat girls,” Rob said abruptly.

Everyone was silent, discreetly sneaking peeks at the “fat” woman across the room. Several women at the table told Rob point blank that he was an idiot and really, who was he to judge someone? David agreed with the women. A couple of men just shook their heads at Rob’s comment. I said nothing and my husband squeezed my knee under the table. He knew what I was thinking: I once was the fat girl.

There was a time when I was thirty pounds heavier than I am now, but no one at our table knew me when I was “fat.” I don’t exactly go out of my way to tell people this little bit of information. I don’t say:

“Hello, I’m so happy to meet you and, oh, by the way, did you know that I once had thirty extra pounds of fat on my body?”

It’s not because I’m ashamed of it; having extra weight is not on par with having pulled off a bank robbery. It’s definitely not a crime in my book.  No, I don’t tell people because it’s just not that important to me anymore. But, there was a time when it was important, very important. I spent some prime dating years as a “fat” girl and it was not fun. 

I am one of those people who have had to fight weight all their lives. I can’t indulge on a daily basis; I limit certain foods that I know, damn well, will make the pounds creep up on me. I exercise and make sure that the food I do eat is nutritious and good without empty calories. (Oh, those delicious empty calories!!) But I will treat myself to “goodies” if I really want something.

And to be completely honest, I don’t weigh what the charts, say I should. I’m not the correct number on the scale according to my gynecologist, who is so thin he looks like an eel with feet!  

Nope. At 5’5,” I fit in a size 10 (or 12, depending on the cut), and basically feel happy with my body. I’m curvy and am very comfortable on the beach wearing a two piece, bottoms cut low enough to show off my belly-ring. I don’t starve nor do I overindulge. It’s a trade-off. Do I really want pizza twice a week? Yes, but I don’t have it. Do I want that ice cream every night while watching a favorite show or do I want to be able to fit into my designer jeans? The jeans win every time and the ice cream, no matter how much I want it, becomes a once a week treat.

I met my husband after I reached the “thin mode” of my life, but he has seen pictures of me from my heavier days. He was surprised, but good guy that he is, said that I looked “attractive, just in a different sort of way.” Yes, okay.

 Still, I wonder if he would have given me a glance back in college. Popular and athletically lean as he was, I seriously doubt he would have asked me for a date. He denies it, of course. However, I don’t think he would have would have been won over by my “great personality” coupled with a chubby body.