Confessions of a Fat Girl: Fat and Feminine?

These are my nails, fake ones.  Pretty, aren’t they?  I got them done at Nagelstudio Ellen in Barendrecht and I couldn’t be happier with them. She is awesome, she also took the photos.  Check out the swirlys, cute huh?

You may be wondering why I got acrylic nails. I mean, that’s a little lush for a housewife, isn’t it?  A bit extravagant? Maybe even a bit silly?  Not really. They are my gift to myself for continuing to lose weight and get closer to my goals. Something I can have every day to look at, feel pretty and smile.  I really need that, and here’s why…

Remember a while back when I did the Confessions of a Fat Girl post?  That was my coming out, when I stopped feeling ashamed of who I was and decided to own my weight.  It was so liberating and I felt so good afterwards.  It’s hard to believe that was ‘almost 40 lbs ago’, which if funny, looking at time in terms of weight but that’s sort of how it is when you have a long road of weight loss before (and behind) you.

One thing I didn’t really go into was the fat and feminine issue.

What is the fat and feminine issue?  Well, it’s an issue of mine, which took up residence in my head a long time ago and no matter how many times I tried to evict it, it just won’t leave. I can’t speak for all women who are overweight, because I know many don’t have this problem.  I see them every day, bigger women who are so pretty and look so lovely and feminine.  I can only speak for myself, but I was never one of them. I didn’t get the invitation to the club or something, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have shown up because I’d have been convinced they sent it to the wrong address.

The fat and feminine issue I have is that, for me, they have never gone together.  As long as I’ve been fat, I’ve never felt pretty or feminine.  It’s hard to truly feel like a woman when you weigh more than most men you know… or at least that’s been the case for me.  Wearing heels or skirts, anything that sparkles, carrying a girlie bag or painting my nails… I’ve always felt like a drag queen, or like a child trying to dress up in mommy’s clothes.  For years I didn’t even wear makeup because I thought I looked ridiculous, like a clown.

I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy at heart and have never really gone for the uber girlie stuff.  I’ve had better relationships with men than with women, I’ve preferred to shop for gadgets than shoes and I secretly get more pleasure out of watching action or sci fi movies than romantic ones.  That has never stopped me from wanting to feel feminine, or be feminine… my weight has.

It’s a very difficult thing to explain, and as I said, it may just be me.  There are a heaping crapload of insecurities that often come along with weight issues and this is just one of mine.

Weighing over 300 lbs, as I did just over a year ago, I didn’t have a lot of selection when it came to clothes.  I basically bought what fit and tried not to worry about if it looked good because in my mind, nothing looked good then, nothing felt good.  As long as it fit, wasn’t too expensive and wasn’t damaged, I took it because I had no idea when I was going to find something to fit me again.  I can’t remember one single time in a period of about 4-5 years when I looked in the mirror and thought I looked good, even in brand new clothes.

Every time I’d get dressed to go out and see people or do things, I left wishing I could feel like that and worrying about how I looked.  I’d sometimes be uncomfortable because the things that fit didn’t fit the way I’d like, but I had to accept it anyway… or if it was comfortable, it was something that made me feel so frumpy that it just compounded the negative feelings I had about how I looked.

For years I didn’t even bother cutting my hair, it had grown to my ass and other than changing the color I didn’t do anything with it.  Later I tried and had it various lengths but it didn’t matter.  Regardless of what I did, I always felt like I had a teeny tiny head on a great big body.  So, I just stopped bothering.  I washed it, brushed it and it was done.

I would buy makeup, just to have it sit in a bag for two years between uses. Whenever I’d put makeup on I felt like a little girl sitting in front of mommy’s mirror putting on her lipstick.  I’d put it on, look at myself and see someone trying to be something they’re not, and wipe most of it off.  Then leave the house looking like I’d never done it in the first place.  It didn’t feel like it belonged, like those women who put bracelets and necklaces on newborns or hats and sunglasses on their dogs.  It just looked… wrong.

So, what could I do other than try to make the best of it?  I didn’t want people to know I had all these things going on in my head or that I wanted all those things but didn’t feel like I could have them.  I wasn’t any of those things so what could I do other than try to make it appear like it was by choice?

I always had a boyish side to me, but so do a lot of women who do wear makeup and heels without feeling like fools.  So that’s who I became.  I was Tammy, the jeans and t-shirt, no fuss no muss kinda gal.  You want someone who can be ready in 5 minutes flat?  I’m your girl!  Don’t worry, I will never bug you to go shoe shopping!

What nobody knew was that I always wanted to be something else but just felt like I didn’t deserve it.  I was lazy, fat, and disgusting, and no amount hair gel or makeup was going to hide that.

So, this is one of the things I’ve been working on during this weight loss journey.  There used to be a part of me that felt at least a little pretty and feminine, but it was a very short period of time many years ago.  She used to live in a beautifully decorated little area in my brain, but then the fat insecure bitch threw her out and started squatting in her flat.  She painted all the walls black and shits on the floor like a savage.  In the past year I’ve been working on housebreaking her, and it’s going pretty well.  Any day now I should be able to repaint the walls.

Basically, I’m trying to learn to give a shit.  I try to look in the mirror and see something less like the Trash Heap from Fraggle Rock and more like, shit.. I dunno, the me I want to be, I guess.  It’s working, little by little.  Sometimes I leave the house thinking I actually look ok, which is a long way from how I felt this time two years ago.  Sometimes I even catch a glimpse of that part of me I used to know all those years ago and it gives me hope.  It gives me the motivation to keep going because with each pound I lose I get closer and closer to being her again.

I wear makeup more now, not a lot but enough to look like I’m wearing it, without feeling like a clown.

I buy clothes because I like them and I like the way I look and feel in them, not just because they are there and they fit.  I have more choice now and that gives me the ability to think about my style, if I even have one at all.  That’s something I’ve not had in a long time.

I bought a pair of boots with heels.  I can’t say I feel entirely comfortable in them, I still feel like I’m going to go face down at any moment, but I FEEL GOOD when I wear them. I feel taller, prouder,more feminine and all I can do is hope that if I do topple over one day that I do it with a little bit of grace. I may even buy more one day. Practice makes perfect, right?

I am trying to learn to accessorize. I know when people think of me they think of jewelry in terms of piercings, but that’s different. You can wear those with anything.  I like jewelry and one day I want to be confident enough to be that girl that wears the big clunky jewelry and is all like “YA, my necklace is HUGE, what of it bitch?!”  Rather than the “oh shit I look like I have a life preserver around my neck, what was I thinking?!” type that I am now.  I’m the girl who wears something out and then stuffs it in my purse just before I get there because I think it looks silly.

One day, I want to wear a cute little sundress and feel like I belong in it. You know, that confident girl who strides down the street looking cool and care free.  Right now I’m the girl who would be fretting about my thighs rubbing together under there, how flabby my arms are, not wanting people to see my armpits (who am I kidding, I will always be that girl), and still sweating like a pig just out of the anxiety of the whole situation.  It’s just not a situation where I could, you know… fake it till I make it.

It’s going to be a long road to recovery on this one, but I’ll get there one day.  I envy women who can feel feminine and pretty regardless of their weight, I really do.  I know they are out there because I see them every day, or at least I think I do. Perhaps some of these women feel silly too but wear those things anyway, I don’t know.  I think I secretly hope they do, just so I know I’m not alone.

So yeah, what is more girlie and feminine than having nice, long, beautiful nails?  It’s the one thing I CAN fake.  I can go to a lady with my short, weak, constantly jagged and hooking on every sweater fingernails and leave with long, beautiful girl-talons.  Ok, so I still refuse to get any non-subtle color or god forbid, glitter… but it’s a start.

To some it might seem like a silly thing to do, but for me it means something right now.  It means I’m trying, I’m making the effort where I can and that matters to me.  I work hard every day at staying on track, eating right and getting my head back together, I deserve it.

Plus, hubby thinks they’re hot.

He thinks they’d be hotter in red, but dude… I’m so not ready to go there.

Maybe purple, I could definitely do purple.

P.s. Only 5.7 lbs until I reach 90 lbs lost, can’t wait!