On the plus side…

It may sound foolish when someone puts off confessing something that’s immediately obvious with a simple glance. I am not a skinny girl, much as I might wish to be, and my size has caused me considerable angst over the past few years. Despite the fact that someone can note my size as easily as they spot my blindness (my silhouette and my guide dog make both facts equally apparent), I have always balked at the idea of admitting that I am a plus-sized woman. I haven’t let my denial shape my clothing choices — my preoccupation with fit drove me to the plus-size/woman/above average sections at most stores years ago, but admitting that I had exited the realm of mainstream fashion was a blow to someone who has always struggled with body image. Even at my slimmest I was never what one could consider small, though I was comfortably in the size eight to 10 range. My struggles with weight have escalated as I aged, taking a sharp turn for the worse when I moved out on my own. My abject failure to keep my weight in check caused me powerful feelings of inadequacy. I was raised on a healthy diet and knew full-well what constituted a good food routine, but as I discussed before, my culinary skills are entirely self-taught and a certain amount of trial and error was required. When the trials went poorly, I’d cop out and just order in. And even as my experiments met with more success, it took me ages to learn to use callory-intensive ingredients in the right ways. By the time I got it right, the damage was done and my figure had changed.

A long spell of self-castigation ensued during which I struggled to come to terms with my new and not-so-improved body. I hated sitting on public transit for fear I was crowding those around me. Walks with my guide dog were marred by fears that everyone was staring at the ungainly, chubby blind chick who was hogging all the sidewalk space. Getting dressed in the morning became a nightmare, and even meetings with my adored family became anxious affairs. Their criticisms of my weight and appearance, though warranted to some degree, bit deep and compounded my emotional state. My most unfortunate urge to indulge in “emotional eating” would then kick in, and to paraphrase Joni Mitchell, the circle game was afoot. My fashion choices suffered along with my self-esteem and social life. The idea of showing off my upper arms filled me with dread, I was convinced I had no waist to showcase, and I was loath to expose my tree-trunk-sized calves for any reason. But gradually I decided to approach my size much the way I handle my blindness, i.e. trying not to be frightened by the status quo and resolving to make the most of my present situation. Weight loss takes time, and I already resented the feeling that my life was on hold until I tipped the scale at a more reasonable number. I forced myself to start seeing my slender friends again and was greatly relieved at their understanding of my uncharacteristic lapse. I tried to ignore my unhealthy thoughts when out in public and began focusing on proactive steps I could take to improve my appearance. Angie and the You Look Fab community have been invaluable in helping me to make the most of my current physical assets and keep my style current. If I can’t have the body I want at this very second, at least I can wear flattering, up-to-date clothing that boosts both my confidence and my style quotient. I still don’t love my calves, but I wear knee-length dresses and summer pants at a more flattering length because life’s too short to hide completely. I rejoice in the fact that I have a proportionally small waist and now actively try to highlight it, and my upper arms will see the light of day if the weather gets hot because I’m just entirely too cranky and unpleasant to be tolerated if I’m overheated.

Being attractively dressed and looking polished has become even more important to me in recent years as I strive to overcome the negative social stigmas associated with being overweight. My size and my blindness have put me at two social disadvantages, and although one is of my own making, I feel an extra onus to counteract the stereotypes they evoke. Being entirely realistic, blindness does present some limitations and fatness (for lack of a better word) can sometimes accurately convey an impression of laziness,, carelessness or lack of productivity. Taken in tandem, the two could combine to form a deadly first impression — one that I am eager to dispell from the get-go. Many blindness-related limitations exist solely in the imagination, and being overweight should never at any time be synonymous with the negative associations I’ve mentioned above. Weight struggles have myriad causes and just as many effects. In fact, some people take pride in their size and are able to conduct their affairs with total confidence.

I envy these people, for I can never join their ranks. I loudly applaud the size-acceptance movement for the emotional liberty it has granted hundreds of people, and I delight in the fact that size-biased industries like fashion are finally starting to take a more broad-minded approach.
But my current size does not make me happy. It threatens my health, dampens my confidence and curbs my enthusiasm for some of my favourite pursuits. I am working towards long-term weight loss, a process which can be both empowering and demoralizing. My occasional failures can take an emotional toll on me and cause me to withdraw from ventures I am genuinely engaged with. When this blog falls victim to one of those spells, plese understand where it’s coming from. I will try not to let those lapses happen often, and it is my hope that coming out as plus-sized, so to speak, will help hold me accountable in a variety of ways.

Thank you for getting through this admittedly self-indulgent rant. A lighter tone next, I promise.

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