Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls by Jes Baker Page B

I’m supposed to go and my brain keeps telling
    me I have to or else I’m the worst fatty ever
    and when I see you I’m just going to regret not going
    and then I’ll have to sit on my fat ass all night knowing I didn’t
    do it
    when I should have but I can’t.
    I just can’t.
    Friend:
    Here’s the thing.
    You’re not gonna be the only one. Last time I was there, the
    people were all different. There were kids and even an older
    man who couldn’t move as quickly as everyone else.
    It was challenging for everyone.
    You’re totally not gonna be alone.
    And it was challenging for me too! At a certain point I had
    to decide that I was either gonna stick through it or get the
    fuck out. But I decided to stay and it was amazing and after I
    finished I totally felt like I had a dozen orgasms.
    Me:
    I hate being fat.
    I hate everything about it.
    I hate how hard it makes daily living
    and how many mental barriers I have to fight through just to
    do what others do.
    And I hate having to justify everything to myself because I feel
    like I owe the world to lose weight
    or at least try and lose weight or eat differently and lose weight
    . . . or something.
    It’s just really hard and sounds crazy but it’s so common for me.
    THIS IS ALL OF THE HARDS.
    Friend:
    I get it.
    I totally get it.
    Body issues are all of the shit and IT IS ALL OF THE HARDS.
    But do yourself a favor, okay? Don’t do it for the weight loss.
    Just go for the orgasms.
    So, “for the orgasms” I went. The night turned into a spiritual experience, one that really altered my perspective. Jade is incredible in person. Her infectious energy reminded me that it’s important to love others, and even more important, to love yourself. And you should see her shake that incredible booty on the dance floor. God. Damn. And I would estimate that I doubled my friend’s record of twelve orgasms in a night. It was. Amazing.
    I had to force myself to put on my dance pants while I was talking to my friend so I wouldn’t back out at the last second. I then turnedmy brain off and focused solely on my promise to just show up for the warm-up, but I of course stayed for the entire thing. I allowed myself to make mistakes, friends, and a fool out of myself. I wasn’t worried about the steps, for the most part, because I had triumphed over my biggest insecurity just by being there.
    Now, today, I think back on those Facebook messages without any trace of that emotion. It’s hard for me to understand how something as simple as going to a movement class could shake my world so much that I would lose my ability to function. But it did. And it was real. And that sort of freakout is so common.
    So often, we fat ladies feel the social pressure to “better ourselves” by losing weight, but then feel ostracized in a workout setting. We feel obligated to join The Perfect Body Factory (okay, maybe you call it a gym), but once there, we feel out of place and pushed into a competition we’ve failed at before even setting foot inside. It’s a mindfuck, and scares a lot of us shitless. The act of combining a fat body and exercise can resurrect a lifetime of shame. One of the most powerful kinds of shame in the world.
    I was convinced I would fail that night. I would have bet everything I had in my bank account on it. But I DIDN’T FAIL! I finished the entire class and loved every single minute of it. There was one arm move that confused the shit out of me that I couldn’t get down, but that wasn’t because of my weight. It was because my brain was like, “WHATTHEFUCK, COUNTING ON OFF-BEATS IS HARD.” Sweat was never so rewarding, and I had a lot of it. Well, we all did. I am lucky to be able to see my “before” and “after” emotions and realize that none of this is about obligation, weight loss, or skill sets.
    It’s about feeling good.
    And feeling good is not