Fat is My Default
A common story among fat people is that being fat is all we’ve ever known.
It’s like a fat identity.
The weird part is—looking back. I wasn’t really that fat.
Me @ 5 yrs
That’s me at 5. The photo is cropped but I look like any one of the kids around me. Okay I look slightly more attractive than the rest of them.
Me @ 7 years
That’s me in the suspenders. This photo earned a place in this esteemed publication (pg 15).
And awkward is a great way to describe it. By 7 you can already begin to see what would become this:
Besides a propensity for substance abuse, my pops also gifted me with a big belly.
That’s not to say he made me fat.
It’s more like he gave me the roll of clay, and I molded it into something marvelous ridiculous.
Then came some of these classics:
- First realization I was fat. 2nd grade. Doctor clocked me in a 90 lbs and said “Good thing you have the flu, you need to lose some weight.”
- First altercation. 3rd grade. Kid named Brett used to punch me in the stomach to skip ahead in line. But I went through puberty first and he was afraid of me in middle school and I dated his mother* (I did not)
- First embarrassment. Running through the sprinklers ~ 5th grade. I overheard a relative saying “He sure is getting fat!”. I see same relative a few years later who makes a weight comment again as soon as I saw them.
- First comment from a friend. 6th grade. My buddy Jeff told me that when I ran I looked like a bowling ball. Start wearing undershirts.
Puberty came and I added height fairly quickly. But I was still husky/pudgy/jolly/stout/big-boned/chubby/—fat.
Besides getting physicals for sports or doctors visits, I don’t think I stepped on the scale at all throughout middle school and high school—but I probably went from 175-250 lbs in that time.
I was able to be in denial for several reasons:
- I mostly gain weight in my stomach—so I can and have worn the same pair of jeans since 2005. I still have the same brown belt from 8th grade. So jeans not fitting wasn’t really an issue or a wakeup call.
- Being fat never affected me socially. Sure I told someone I couldn’t swim once just to spare everyone the glory—but I still had friends, played sports, and fought off women. What I lacked in the physique, I made up for in the charm + humor departments at least that’s what my mom tells me.
- Guys don’t have the same pressure to be thin + fit as women do. We just don’t. That’s why there are a billion more female fitness writers than men.
I became more aware of my weight in college because I used to regularly donate plasma for extra $$$. They weigh you each visit.
One time I came in at 302. I laughed it off and quickly swept it under the cerebral rug. That was 2006.
In late 2012 I stepped on a scale at a gym and slid each of those sliders over to impending doom and watched as the balance hung steady at 352 lbs.
The belt I had been wearing since 8th grade had not been worn in weeks. My pants stayed suspended on my waist—tightly. I had to strain to button them.
I had fewer choices of clothes to wear that would fit. Button ups were not up for consideration. Bring on the stretchy sweaters.
Being down 25 lbs isn’t something to sneeze at, but it is only Round 1 of several. If I were to quit now, that weight would be back in 2 months.
Because being fat is my default. It’s all I’ve known. Even when I wasn’t fat, I felt fat.
It’s hard to burn 1,000 calories in a workout, but fat people know the hardest part is the internal redefining of self, our understanding of health, our relationship with food, and how we deal with stress.
I’m tearing down this monument I’ve built to my over-indulgent self—pound by pound.
And considering, with each gym visit, weigh-in, and meal choice, what to build in its place.
Love this post, Chris. It’s so difficult and so hard to really OWN a healthy lifestyle when you’ve considered yourself anything but healthy for a long time. In the beginning, I felt like a poser. It’s finally starting to feel authentic and natural, thank goodness.
Haven’t heard the word poser in a while. In middle school it meant someone who acted like they were a skater but, alas, was just a poser.
The mirror is keeping me humble. A new identity can be terrifying/freeing.
Thank you for the kind words like always.
Also love this post! Nice to know where you’re coming from, as well as where you’re headed! Keep up the good work, positive attitude, and great sense of humor
Always such an encouragement.
And I’ve been meaning to make a comment about your anxiety post but I’m having trouble thinking about how I want to phrase it. If it comes to me ill leave it
I appreciate you being honest too
In case you didn’t know, you’ve lost the equivalent of a 2yr old. That’s pretty awesome.
I totally get what you mean tho about fat being a default. Luckily we can switch our defaults! You’ve totally got this!
Brooke welcome and damn you’ve come along way. When I get to a real comp I’m going to snoop on your site and steal some tips.
Thanks for encouraging me too.
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You know what’s odd? When you start to lose weight, people immediately think you should feel AWESOMEAMAZINGWICKEDGOODPEREFECT so, you do for a bit. Or at least I did, but then, it was really hard to settle into the ‘new me’. Or the me that I was in that moment. I looked in the mirror and didn’t believe what I saw. I saw the me of 40lbs ago. I still do often. I found it really hard to talk openly to people, about how DIFFICULT the emotions were while losing weight. It wasn’t all just perfect and happy. Sure I felt success, but there was a lot of confusion in there too. Where do I buy clothes now? what fits me? Did my style change? What do I eat? What if I still want a freaking donut? And also? I started to really feel valued by my appearance. Congratulatory comments felt good, but, then what?
Good on you for working at it. For digging at it. For really putting in the work. It’s not easy and it’s a journey. Thanks for sharing.
I have thoughts like that. To me the biggest ones are:
*will I still be funny?
*will I be that guy that looked better bigger? (cough al roker cough)
*will I become a cocky bastard?
I feel like these thoughts are ridiculous and typing them makes them sound even more-so.
I guess I’m still really on the front end of this thing. In a few months I might be really wigging out. Right now I’m still in the happy-for-early-gains-but-afraid-i’ll-stop-losing-weight-for-some-irrational-reason stage
I hear you. I didn’t have thoughts like that going IN…but in the middle I was looking around at people telling me how great I was looking, going “Why don’t I feel more awesome about this?”
You have to celebrate every little bit. Every last .2 lbs is a step in the right direction you know?
Thanks for following me and bringing attention to your journey!
Hi Chris! Yes, you’re right about internal redefining of self being hardest. I wasn’t fat during my childhood, but I was called “fat,” during almost everyday of my childhood until I was about 15. By that point, it was a concrete message in my brain that I couldn’t shake loose. It took at least two years of being absolutely great in the gym before I could even call myself “athletic,” because of the internal redefining that took a few years after becoming athletic to accomplish.
Recently, I borrowed my Joe Weider beginning weightlifting book to an overweight friend who lost about 60 pounds last year. I told him that as he reads the book, he needs to start envisioning that he could belong in a group of weightlifters at a gym. I told him that until he can feel like he belongs as a fit person, his mind will want to slide back to what is comfortable. I also told him that as he loses weight, he needs to find an alternative way to be “big,” which I accomplished through weightlifting. In the end, a person has to feel comfortable with who they are.
Thank you for the thoughtful response Marion.
I wish we had better control over internalizing the external criticisms we hear—especially at such formative ages where those impressions tend to “stick”.
The good news is actually as you said—we can work to change it. But the work is hard.
I’m starting to see some hints of that man underneath this slow-melting flab costume.
PS. I’ve really enjoyed the series you’ve been doing.
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Chris. Where have you been all my life? I stumbled across your blog a week ago and have now read the entire blog. I’ve struggled to decide which blog to comment on. This one really resonated with me-so i decided to comment here
You hit the nail on the head by saying that “fat is a default.” I just started my weight loss journey (for the 1,357th time) and I’m already having an identity crisis. Haha. Fat is a comfortable adjective, and one that I’ve come to accept. It’s almost all encompassing. Every other adjective falls second to my “fatdom.” I have no idea who I will be after I shed the weight and the adjective. When you spend most of your life defined by one thing, how do you learn to not only redefine you to yourself, but how do you redefine yourself to the world? Every time I start over, I immediately feel that I no longer act like a fat person, but my body takes much longer to reflect that revelation than my mind does-which causes this ongoing inner turmoil. At which point can we drop the labels? 25 pounds down? 50 pounds down? Once we reach our goal weights?
I’m with you in that it is a process. It’s a process that’s crucial for keeping the weight off. It’s just one of the grimy, less talked about aspects of weight loss. No one wants to know that weight loss is anything less than wonderful. Kudos for talking about it. I look forward to watching (or reading) your evolution.
Rachel. I’m glad you found it here. I’m glad you’ve rebooted your journey to pursue health . You seem like you have a good sense of humor and better insight this time around.
You ask a good question: “when will I no longer be fat?”
I get curious about that. I obviously don’t have an answer yet. Maybe we’ll find out together.
Thanks for reading.
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