The People Behind My Eyes

Armor or Big, Beautiful and Proud-Saturday, August 26, 2006-7:37AM EST

Part 1 of 2

I’ve been saying that my weight is not armor; the kind of armor that therapists say survivors may carry to protect themselves from future harm. I’m going to have to eat my words, pun intended. I wear really baggy clothes to hide my body. I wear long sleeve shirts to hide my hands & tennis shoes to be ready to run at any moment. I knew that was why I wore the baggy clothing and the tennis shoes but Thursday evening I had a light turned on for me. Blossom said she had a pair of faded jeans that she thought I could wear. Well, being faded I thought I’d take a look at them. She showed me the size and I held it up to myself and said, “no way, these wont fit. I have too much hip for these things.” She said okay but added that she knew I’d get into them soon. I replied with my typical, I only want to be a certain size and after that I’m just going to try and maintain that weight. I said that I never wanted to get to the smaller size like those jeans. As I heard myself say it I knew I was just trying to make a statement about “being satisfied” with who I am. Blossom is guilty of saying things people want to hear and I’m guilty of saying things I think people need to hear based on my personal agenda. This whole time I’ve been thinking the body image issues were all hers. Thursday I realized I’ve got some of my own going on.

Still in denial mode, I looked at my rounded hips and thought, I kinda want these. And who would even recognize me without my giant knockers? I want to be able to recognize myself in the mirror. I said that as if I do that now, recognize myself in the mirror. So I stood in the hallway really looking at myself in the mirror which was ironically round. I actually looked myself in the eye this time. I usually look past myself, do what I need to do and get away from the reflection that I see. As I looked myself in the eye I thought about how getting down “too low” would feel like I was loosing a certain familiarity.

Absolutely everything changes. I have no control over time. I either keep it or lose it. Days may go by without “me” having any real say so. I can’t control other people’s actions. In general I have the same lack of control as most adults and in general I have the same strength and protection as most adults. Those things aren’t tangible though. I can’t look at it and say, yes this is mine and I decide this or that. I do however, look at my body and know I have the control to decide what goes in it or stays out of it.

I’ve worried a lot about getting “too small” because I thought I’d lose myself. I had a hard time thinking that my body was getting smaller because I didn’t know where it was going. I thought, if I’m dropping weight then where is it going? I had a hard time thinking of it as anything other than losing part of my identity. All of this went through my head while I looked at myself in the mirror. While Blossom messed around in the restroom primping I decided to try on these jeans that I just knew where way too small for me. They went on easily. I just kind of stood in shock then walked into the hallway to let Blossom see. I was not only in shock but I was afraid. “I’m small enough to no longer be a threat to people.”

I thought a very long time ago that I never wanted to be so small that anyone could pick me up and walk away with me or hold me down easily. When I was in high school a friend (a huge male friend) was messing around and grabbed me, lifted my feet off the floor and hugged me tightly. I couldn’t move and even though I told him to put me down he squeezed harder. When I finally made it clear that I wanted him to let me go I brushed off my clothes and tried to keep myself from picking up some sharp object with which to end his life. I was so angry that one bear hug could incapacitate me like that. When I think about it today I realize that back then my physical body wasn’t big but it also wasn’t my biggest source of strength. My voice was my strength. Fortunately he was the kind of person that is half way reasonable. He could tell by my tone that this wasn’t as fun for me as it was for him. This bear hug was the same teasing, leg swinging hug that people do to kids. My feet and legs were swinging back and forth and my arms were pinned to my side. He was even making that squeaky sound that people make when squeezing kids like that. I guess I’m trying to make it clear that he really was playing. I still appreciate the fact that when he realized that I wasn’t playing he let me go. Later, many days later I could see that situation was different than others I’d been in but it still left the impression that small means easily controllable.

Austin