I honestly debated even sharing this story. I felt embarrassed when it happened but then I decided sharing it would likely actually make me feel better instead of worse. After all, one of my goals is to own all of my story, including the ugly parts.
When you're fat (and maybe when you're really skinny too) people seem to think they have carte blanche regarding their opinion of your body. I grew up being called all sorts of names from "Thunder Thighs" to "Tub of Lard" to "Lard Ass" and many things in between. I also grew up with lots of true friends, as well as my amazing family who stood beside me and always had my back no matter what. Although I've been through some very hurtful situations when it comes to being picked on for my oversized self, I had a strong foundation and came through those experiences with a thicker skin than most. I even have true self confidence, which is something I've had to work very hard for throughout the years.
Tonight I took my son (he's 8) down to his regular karate class. It's in a busy, thriving downtown area that is usually quite friendly and welcoming. There was some big run going on this evening so our regular route to his karate school was blocked. This meant we had to walk quite a bit further than usual to get there. We also walked a little extra on top of that to squeeze in the steps.
We passed a man as we were heading into class and he smiled at my uniformed son and said, "Hey it's the karate kid!" We smiled back and went on our way. I'm pretty sure the guy was homeless and probably also tipsy. These types of interactions happen in busy downtown areas so I honestly thought nothing of the encounter. That is until we were headed back along the same path to walk back to our car. Apparently the man (still occupying the same street corner and now actually quite inebriated) recognized us. I'm guessing we stood out from the crowd because of...you guessed it...our size. That would be fine except Drunk Dude apparently thought it would be cute to call us names this time. We passed by him and he smiled again. As we crossed the street and were walking away he said, "There they go, the skinny little fucker and the big fatty." Thankfully my son was blissfully unaware, lost in his own little world of a spirited explanation about Pokemon and Power Rangers. Still, those words felt like tiny daggers being thrown at our backs as we walked away.
I am able to ignore such nasty, rude behavior and move on because I have self worth and I know I amount to so much more than any obnoxious slurs someone can sling at me. Still...my son. My young and oh so vulnerable son! Part of me wanted to run back to that jerk of a "man" taking up precious sidewalk space and show him just how strong this big fatty actually is. Of course all of this happened--including all of these thoughts and the accompanying rush of feelings--within a span of about two minutes. Instead of glorifying the situation with an outward reaction, I chose to keep walking and keep my head held high. I ushered my son along and explained that we should get back to our car as quickly as possible.
I never felt scared, only embarrassed and angry - then actually a little sad for Drunk Dude. Seriously it's Monday night and he's got nothing better to do than bum around on a street corner, drinking and making fun of an innocent little boy and his mom. What a sad and pathetic example of a human being. What a waste of perfectly good sidewalk space in a normally quite lovely downtown area. Wow.
I'll finish up this post by saying this experience has done nothing for me other than to strengthen my resolve to continue down the path I'm on. One of my key reasons for choosing to have surgery in the first place was so that I could be healthier...be here...for my son. That's exactly what I intend to do. That slob of a man had no idea the power his words would hold. I will take them and use them to fuel my fire and motivate myself to "keep on keeping on," as my mom would say!
Thanks for sharing!
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