When you are overweight you don’t want to be seen. You hide behind your fat, behind your size 22 clothes. You carry a big purse in front of your stomach and wear all black so the color of your clothes won’t draw extra attention your way.
All of the above was, and sometimes still is, true for me. I would not wear shorts because I hated my chubby legs, especially around my knees. I spent every summer with just my feet in the pool because I refused to wear a swimsuit in front of other people. At bars and clubs, I had to be really drunk to go out on the dance floor. I didn’t like to be looked at, wouldn’t look anyone in the eye, and yet all I ever wanted was for someone to pay attention. Someone to see beyond the weight and size 22 clothes. I hid, but I wanted to be seen.
I’ve spent most of my life wanting to be seen for the person I am inside, the person I am despite the numbers on the scale or the tag on my jeans. Now that I feel more comfortable wearing a pair of shorts and I’ve bought my first swimsuit in over ten years, I still want to be seen for the person I am inside, but I’m ready to go out on the dance floor without alcohol in my system and put more than just my feet in the swimming pool.
The hard part is that I’m not used to being visible. I’m not used to having people pay attention to me. It’s all new to me – being complimented on my clothes, feeling a man’s eyes linger longer than necessary. It’s so new to me that I tend to interpret everything as scrutiny, judgment, disgust. I have a hard time believing a man is looking at me because he’s attracted and not because he’s repulsed. My whole life I’ve wanted to be visible to people, especially the opposite sex, and now that the fog is starting to lift… I don’t know what to do with it. I react the wrong way. It’s scary and uncomfortable, and a little thrilling.
I guess it’s like a lot of things, something to get used to. Just as I have to adjust to my new shape and size, I have to adjust to being seen differently by other people.
