Size Does Matter

Like most women, I’m self conscious about my appearance. I believe myself to be an attractive woman, but as a friend of mine once said about himself, “I wish I were as sexy as I think I am.” I walk around feeling rather confident about my looks these days, but that was not always the case.

For the first few years of my life, I was an average sized child and I have the pictures to prove it! I was an adorable blonde haired, blue eyed slim girly girl, wearing dresses with Buster Brown white anklets and saddle shoes, something my mother imposed upon my attire for quite a number of years. The shoes that is, because once I turned five years of age, I began to gain weight. I remember the embarrassment my mother felt having to ask the department store clerks for the “chubby” section in order to find something that would fit me. I barely fit into a Brownie uniform and I believe because of my inability to find a Girl Scout uniform in my size, I did not continue with the program. The bigger I grew, the less girly girl my clothing became. I suppose my mother wasn’t up for the challenge, so my wardrobe became more inclusive of polyester stretch pants with the sewn pleat running up the front and a variety of t-shirts and sweat shirts to go with the Buster Brown white ankles and the obligatory saddle shoes. No matter, because as I grew in size I also became more of a tomboy.

I still enjoyed playing house with my dolls and pretend kitchen sets, baby buggies that I would forcibly give my cats rides in and I loved my Barbies! However, more and more I enjoyed hanging out with the boys in my class, riding bikes, climbing trees and arm wrestling. By eighth grade, I was 200 lbs already and the guys wanted me to be on their tug-o-war team to be the anchor. I refused to tell them my weight, so they gave me their weights and I had to add them all together because we had to have our teams equally distributed. I knew they would be able to figure it out, so I fudged my number a bit. My gym teacher was not please with me when we won, but my dignity was intact. I liked hanging out with the boys, but they never “liked” me, they thought I was fun enough and let me hang out with them. Some of the girls would be jealous, but I told them that the boys were asking me questions about them, they had no interest in me and so the girls gave me a pass.

They say children can be cruel, the understatement of my lifetime. I can remember being picked on almost everyday of my life with the taunts of “Gail the Whale” and “Gail, Gail the fat female”. There was one family in particular that had it out for me, one of them told me I was ugly as hell and the other would actually spit at me, push me, and more. I tied to ignore the bullies, but sometimes I just couldn’t take it anymore and I would report them. What happened to the bullies back then? Nothing. What was I told to do? Ignore them. It doesn’t work people! The bullies know that they are getting to you, no matter how silent you remain, no matter how many times you walk away. I may have said this before, but I truly believe that there is no such thing as a coincidence and when I was in the hospital delivering my second child, the mother of that family was my nurse. I recognized the last name on her ID badge and she resembled them. I told her how I had gone to school with her children and she just kind of looked at me, like a deer staring into the headlights with embarrassment. She knew. She knew exactly how horrible her children had been. At least she appeared to be apologetic.

Near the end of my grade school career, I may have confronted one of my bullies. He was a boy and he had this extra piece of skin between his nose and cheek. Maybe I called him something horrible like “Skin Nose” in my defense that day, but it seemed to take him aback. It was then he said something very enlightening to me. He said that all the kids really liked me, they just picked on me because I was fat. Great, they really liked me, but had decided to make my life a living hell simply based on my weight. Wonderful. Now, I feel the need to make something clear, it was not ALL the kids and looking back, it may have only been a handful, but it felt like everyone was against me and that colored my perception of my reality.

In high school, the bullying became a little less. I actually confronted the boy who would call me “Gail, Gail the fat female”. As it turns out, I believe he picked on me as some sort of release because of how he had been being picked on for being a nerd. I don’t recall how the conversation went, but I may have said something to him like, “You should talk.” when he made the derogatory remark towards me for the last time. We were no longer in the safe little pond of grade school, we were now in the ocean of high school and the bullies had found him. Or maybe, he always had bullies of his own and felt compelled to bully others to feel better about himself. No matter, I was glad to have the taunting lighten up.

Now, I was never the epitome of femininity, but I liked boys and I really wanted them to like me, but there were never any takers. I had a horrible crush on one guy all through high school that never gave me the time of day. He knew it too, but never paid me any attention. This continued all through high school. I really wanted to go to prom, I asked three different boys to go with me, I even offered to pay, no takers. I never went to any dances that one was required to have a partner, but that didn’t stop me from going to all the school events I could. I became a photographer for the school newspaper and yearbook and I used that as my ticket into the “In Crowd”. I became a little popular because people wanted me to take their picture. I was welcomed to the fringe of their tribes with the calling of, “Gail, take my picture!”, but I was never allowed into the inner sanctum. I had my own friends and was very active in just about every club I had any interest in whatsoever. I have the longest list of activities participated in under my senior class photo because I tried and tired to be noticed, to be liked, to be included, it didn’t happen, but I managed to have some fun along the way. The only real embarrassment I endured was not being able to buy a school sweater to put my emblem on when I was a track aid, they didn’t come in my size and there were times in gym class that the mean girls would try to unsnap my gym suit in front of everyone, but for the most part, the bullying took a break. I even managed to find the courage to audition for Poms. I learned the routine and I could do the splits, but I messed up during my try out. I wasn’t that disappointed about not making the cut. Odds were, they wouldn’t have had a uniform in my size anyway, but at least I tried.

In college, I got involved with theater, I lost weight and for the first time in my life, I got attention from the opposite sex. I was working retail and a young man who had been one of my bullies, now actually found me attractive. This was a guy who would take the time to page me to the store phone and when I answered, would make cow sounds to insult me. Now, that I had lost some weight, I was worthy of his positive attention? Are you kidding me? What a piece of work! I was the same person, just wearing smaller clothes. However, I do have to admit that with the weight loss, my confidence grew and maybe I was less daunting, but I was still me.

There was one theater guy who seemed to be interested in me, but he was engaged so I did not reciprocate. I would learn that his fiancee was threatened by me. Flattering, but not necessary. Then, I met the man who would become my ex-husband. He would be known as the first man to ever pursue me and his friend would be the second. This was in my early twenties and another man would not attempt to gain my attention until just before my fortieth birthday. My marriage ended when I was in my early thirties. I would go nine years without even a kiss, not for my lack of trying, but there were no takers. Those nine years would be prove to be very difficult for me, even more difficult than being married to a man with addictions. My ex may have been an asshole, but he was my asshole. Now, I didn’t even have an asshole to call my own and this made me very sad.

To be continued…