Just another day in the life of a fat woman.
Here’s something I don’t understand. I’ve got an appointment in another town and have to travel. We all get up, shower, dress in clean, color-coordinated clothing. The baby is in light pink polka-dotted leggings and a snow white tee with matching pink Hello Kitty sandals. The boy is wearing skater pants, Nikes, a cammie t-shirt. I’ve got on a khaki sleeveless cotton shirt with tucks and a knitted lace inset, longish and just a bit flared at the waist so it fits nicely and doesn’t accent my bulgey bits. With that, gray/brown grunge jeans (no holes), new Fila low top Converse-style casual sneaks that match the jeans. I’m wearing my gold circle earrings and watch, with a brown stone circle on a leather strip around my neck. This all goes well with the khaki shirt. I spritzed a little Chanel Mademoiselle on my midriff before leaving and by the time I reach the train station the scent is already diffused.
Here’s the “Huh. Well…?” part. After the appointment is over I walk back to the train station to wait for the ride home. The benches we usually sit on are full so I walk to the other end where I see plenty of space. The bench on our side of the track, consisting of about six seats, is occupied by one young man and one young woman. As I walk up the young man puts a large garment bag over four of the seats so I can’t sit down, opens a snack bag, turns away from me and proceeds to eat. The young woman, looking at him with a baffled expression on her face, gets up and moves over one seat so I can sit down beside her. The baby is in a stroller so that leaves the boy and me. I sit down first and invite him to sit on my lap. It’s too uncomfortable for everyone involved, including the kind young woman, so I get up and walk a little way away, where I see the benches facing the other track are empty except for one man in his late twenties, early thirties. I tell the boy “Come on, we’ll go sit over here and when our train comes we can still see it”, but I know this is going to be difficult because our back will be to it and we’ll really have to concentrate.
As I begin to sit down, the lone man occupying the other end of the bench immediately gets up and walks away. The boy brings out his phone and begins silently playing a game with the sound off. The baby looks quietly around her at the birds in the station. As I watch the man walk away to stand elsewhere and wait, I assume, because there aren’t any other seats available, I wonder why no one wants to be in close proximity with me. I wonder because this happens frequently. Like every day frequently.
In case you haven’t experienced this personally let me try and explain. Have you ever had to be in close proximity with other people, in a grocery, in a department store, in a line waiting at the bank, and someone came in who smelled like a bottom that hasn’t been washed in about a week. Or more. If you’ve had that happen and looked at the people around you you’ll notice they have public reactions to the offending party. Some want others to know they’re being inconvenienced so they’ll be vocal about it. Others have reflex actions and they’ll make a face and show their feelings a bit before they gain control and get over it. Others will simply move away. That’s how it is with me. It’s like I have an offensive odor or something, and I know that’s not true. In fact I smell rather good. I don’t look dangerous. I’m quiet and don’t bother people. I don’t attempt to chat or talk inappropriately. My clothing and shoes are high end. My children are well cared for and mind their manners, and they also look and smell clean and nice. But the fact remains that I can clear out an area, a corner, a table, a row of seats, within minutes of my arrival. People are that grossed out and uncomfortable with someone who is as overweight as I am. I’m 5’10″ tall and weigh about 330lbs/150kg, give or take. I’m a pretty big woman but I can still buy clothing in a retail store, and my behind doesn’t knock around leaving victims in its wake. I mean, let’s be realistic. I can sit in one seat on a bus without lopping over into the next, but there’s no way anyone will sit anywhere near me. Good thing my life doesn’t depend on it or I’d have been dead a long time ago. I can still sit in an airplane seat too, without having to buy a second. In fact, I don’t have trouble getting in or out of a chair at all, if that’ll give you some kind of picture of what my body looks like. It’s noticeably big but doesn’t have its own moon or anything.
Still, no matter what I’m wearing or how nice I smell, or how hard I try to be polite, quiet and unobtrusive, I’m treated with contempt wherever I go just like that person whose dirty body you can smell. I’m treated like I’m offensively dirty and disgusting. People either openly show their disgust on their faces or they pretend I don’t exist, or hurry away to stand a distance off and whisper behind their fingers if they’re with someone. Or roll their eyes and act put out if they’re alone.
Here’s the part I don’t understand. How can my simply existing in a space at the same time someone else is there be so utterly offensive? How can the mere sight of me cause people to leave the area? I’ve seen etremely dirty, definitely oderous, most likely mentally challenged homeless people tolerated with more compassion than I am. People hate fat that much. And you wonder, if you wonder at all, why our children are starving themselves to death.
July 20th, 2010 at 20:03
This is a very powerful post that everybody should read and I’m sorry that people treat you like that. Do you read Cecily blogging at Uppercase Woman? She’s got a lot to say about being fat in the US, about fat acceptance, and about her own journey with food and her body.
July 21st, 2010 at 8:27
Thank you Jennifer. I haven’t yet heard of Uppercase Woman but I’ll definitely check it out. Thanks for the tip. I’m currently following Lesley Kinzel at fatshionista.com and Marianne Kirby of therotund.com, as well as their Two Whole Cakes podcast. They’re fabulous ladies I’d highly recommend to anyone who has a problem like I’ve described.
July 31st, 2010 at 23:30
I just found your blog because I’ve been looking around at other expats in Germany blogs and though I don’t know you, I do wonder if this behavior you’re encountering isn’t something that has nothing to do with you or your presence. I make a lot of decisions — like when to sit down and when to stand up — based on my own mood. I’d get up if I felt stupid for sitting on a bench someone else wanted to use, no matter that person’s size. Today I got up on the train because I saw someone older get on, only to watch my seat snatched by a younger man. And let me just be frank here — young, childless men in Germany are the worst. Don’t take them personally. Berate them. It’s what they’re used to from other Germans and the jerk who put his duffel bag down deserved a verbal slap.
All of this is my way of saying, it’s not you, it’s them :)
August 4th, 2010 at 21:49
Thanks for your thoughts, C. I see your point, but I’m pretty positive it’s me. Like, 85% positive in any given situation when I take the time to notice what other people are doing. Most of the time I just try to zone it out or I’d stay angry constantly. We visited the zoo this past weekend and various people rolled their eyes and gawked. You’re probably familiar with The National Stare.
My husband used to think I was paranoid but now I’ve pointed it out and proved it to him he can’t deny it either. What he’s asking me now is why I care. The answer to that is: I don’t, but it’s happening so often it’s beginning to be a steady inconvenience. It’s *irritating*! And yes, it hurts. I wouldn’t be human if it didn’t.
About the young, childless men here, may I say a hearty resounding YES. It never fails to surprise me.
August 15th, 2010 at 8:56
Sweet lady, a couple of things. 1. perhaps it is you perhaps it isn’t you. As a fat woman in Krautland, i have had the similar experiences.
I have to agree, young german men are sooooo rude. its part of a bigger self-centered attitude culture of krautland as a whole.
It isn’t the way you and your kids are dressed. To make a blanket statement, uh, this place is hardly fashion forward. Great thinkers, yes, Great artists, not so much. Mint and poop brown are not the colors to mix in a business suit.
And the scent? well, perhaps i shouldn’t go here, but when one wears acrylic all the time, like many deutschers, well, scent doesn’t seem to be an issue.
Fat? Well, yes. Fat gets more stares than a mini skirt with pubes visable.
People stare or make comments. BUT at some point, you just have to let it go. It’s obnoxious and rude and all that. I know, I really, really do. I talk all the time about putting on emotional armor to go out into the world here. I still get the looks even though I’m 60 kilos lighter than I used to be, I’m still not german skinny (and that being a relative term because most germans are not US skinny, but rather a bit meaty)
It could also be that you are very american looking. Different here gets stares. It could be that your are speaking english with the kids. It could be that you smile, make eye contact or simply that you try to be polite. Try being rude. It’s not your nature, but i bet people notice you less.
But for your own mental health, at some point you just have to let it go.
One of the best pieces of wisdom I got from a therapist i once saw was this. “what other people think about you is none of your business.”
At first I thought she was being rude, but over the years, I learned to mind my own business and not allow other people who mean nothing to me and I will never see again control how i feel about me, myself and I. Its hard. I ended up having to make it a note and repeat it to myself until it became more natural.
You’re fat. So what? You smell good. Your husband and children love you. They don’t care. I bet your daughter sees you and smiles. What could be better than that. And you get an entire bench for you and your kids and you don’t have to expose them to rude, stinky people. And you can teach them to loves themselves as much as you love them.
Lisa, knowing you personally, i can tell you that I adore you. You’re smart, witty and extremely lovable. I’d share a bench with you and your kids.
Don’t give the bastards the power to make you feel less than. you’re not.
August 18th, 2010 at 14:56
Okay, I actually just cried a little. Thank you Jen. I know you understand me. I’ve *got* to let this go… I’ve got to let this go… I’ve got to let this go…