An Open Letter to Skinny People

I was working out at the gym tonight. My second consecutive day at the gym after a hiatus of I don't know how many months. Last night and tonight both were low key workouts... 20 minutes on the treadmill and some stretching to remind my body what it feels like to be active. I know I can do better, but it was something. And it was a LOT more than I've been doing for a long ass time. I was, no I AM, proud of myself for every positive choice and step I take.

The treadmill directly to my left was not being used, but the next two were being used by two girlfriends who were already seemingly in shape. They were moderately thin, not super skinny but not thick either. Average, I guess. The treadmill to their left was empty, but the next one down was being used by a woman who was significantly overweight. She wasn't walking terribly fast, or at a high incline. But she was walking. She was doing something.

The skinny girls though... they didn't appreciate her efforts the way I did, or the way I hope she appreciated her own efforts. They were laughing at her, judging her. Their comments were loud enough for me to hear them over the music blaring in my own ears from my iPod, so I am sure she heard them too. Comments like "she's never going to lose weight if she doesn't move her fat ass faster than that". Comments like "how in the hell does a bitch let herself get that fucking fat". Comments like "I sure hope that maintenance is scheduled for that machine tomorrow".

After finishing my own slow return to gym life, walking back to the women's locker room, I saw the woman's face and tried to make eye contact with her, just to smile and try to give her a little encouragement. She was focused though, staring straight ahead. No emotion. And I recognized that look.

See, here's the thing. People who have never been big will never know what that is. Whatever the meanest thing is that you can think of to say to us, we've said things 100 times worse to ourselves. Even so, every single cruel comment cuts us, but on the inside, where you can't see us bleed. You see, we hear it. All of it. And we get very good at pretending we don't. We plaster on a smile whenever we can, and when we can't manage that, we simply look straight ahead showing no emotion whatsoever. We won't give you the satisfaction of knowing that your words hurt.

Here's the thing though... those words do hurt. They say "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me." That's a lie. When we're alone, your cruel words play over and over and over in our head. And we build on them. We are harder on ourselves than you could ever be. And we punish ourselves with more food. Because that ice cream, or that cupcake, or those chips.... see, they become our friends. They accept us. They show us "love" by tasting good. They are the hug we need, even though we know we shouldn't.

And here's another thing. Women are so much more cruel to overweight women than men are. I have been fat my entire life. As an adult though, I've tried over and over to "get healthy". I have been approached in gyms as well as in the park when I was working out with a personal trainer, by guys offering words of encouragement. But I've seen the looks and heard comments from women, directed at me, that were cruel. Thankfully not as cruel as what was said about the woman tonight. But I've seen the snickers and heard the laughs.

At the end of the day, for me, to be completely honest, I don't give a single fuck about what anyone thinks. I'm at the gym for ME. But I ask everyone, whether skinny or average, man or woman. Be kind. It doesn't cost anything, and showing compassion for someone else isn't going to dull your shine. It will actually make you shine brighter. Fat people have feelings, and they hurt as easily as yours do. You don't have to like us. But you don't have to hate us, and you don't have to be cruel either.