Identity Crisis

*** WARNING ***

I am about to selfishly rant & rave about things you may not give two shits about.  If you don’t like it, here’s an idea, don’t read it.  Moving on…

I am so sick and tired of everyone having an opinion about everything!  When I was a fat cow, people were so concerned with how overweight I was, how unhealthy it was for me and how badly I needed to drop pounds.  Let’s not forget having to hear, my entire life mind you, what a “pretty face” I have.  Can we discuss the rejection?  Let’s talk about how, while Hispanic and African American men were loving my ferocious “curves”, I was snubbed by every single white man on the face of this planet.  Now, this is not awful, as my physical attraction level is directly related to the amount of melanin your body produces but, nevertheless, who wants to feel unwanted and undesirable by an entire race?!

<INSERT NICE FLOWING SEGUE HERE >

Of course, being the hyper-sexual individual that I am, I embraced the black man’s love and have been dating them for the past decade.  I have always been a thicker girl, too.  I mean, I’ve been called bubble butt and had Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” sung to me since long before I even knew what the hell either one really meant.  Obviously, at 300+ lbs, I took that shit to a whole new level; in fact, my ass probably needed it’s own zip code, it was so huge but, being with a black man, any black man really, that was never a problem and, of course, it became my “selling point”; well, that and the triple D’s I once had, but that’s an entirely different rant.  Actually, no, it isn’t.  It fits right in…

Here’s the dealio… Now that I’ve dropped 130+ lbs and I’ve gone from being a voluptuous, but appreciated, woman to a thick, desirable, woman, I’ve now, unbeknownst to me, settled in at “just another chubby white bitch”.  I was informed by someone who has known me from 180 to 315 and now at 163 that I have simply lost “too much weight”.  When I asked my boyfriend what he thought of that statement, he didn’t really have much to say.  The only thing he could truly do is attempt to clarify the statement by saying “he is talking about your curves”.  This is where I then proceeded to parade around in leggings and a belted shirt, accentuating my rump, saying “how the fuck have I lost curves”?  I mean, seriously, I have lost a ton of weight, and almost as many inches as I have pounds, so but I am still rather proportioned, if I do say so myself!  THIS is where I insert my intelligence because, aside from my “pretty face”, I’ve always been “so bright”, too!

 

BUST

WAIST

HIPS

OLD

53.25

50.00

58.00

NEW

37.75

30.50

40.50

YES!  Everything is smaller!  Yes, my ass no longer needs a wrecking crew to open up doorways before I walk threw them but how are my new ratios not so much better than my last?  The definition between my bust and my waist is so nice and the waist to hips ratio is RIDICULOUS: 10 whole inches?  Come on, Man!  While I no longer “have an ass” or “titties”, I’d like to point out the part you are overlooking: I ALSO no longer look like I’m 87 months pregnant with a preschooler!

So, you know what?  FUCK what you say!  FUCK what your boys say!  FUCK what my girls say!  FUCK what anyone says, really!  When it’s all said and done, the only opinion that really counts is mine!

<INSERT IMITATION LIGHT BULB OVER MY CARTOON HEAD >

Now…

<INSERT ME TAKING A HAMMER TO THAT LIGHT BULB >

The true problem is, I have no sexual identity anymore.  I’ve been so used to being the freaky white girl with a booty and a bosom out of this world that was so highly desirable that, now that that isn’t how men see me, I am going through a severe identity crisis.  Some may say, I shouldn’t care what others think of me; others may say, it doesn’t matter how other men see me as long as MY man loves me for me.  You know what I say to all those people? FUCK you, too!  If you don’t care for my demeanor, my attitude or my language at this point, please allow me to redirect you to the top of the page where I warned your ass to stop reading at any time.  It makes me no difference how much or how little you read this post.  What matters to me, at the current moment, is truly expressing MY petty problems.  Not worrying about someone else’s or trying to fix what’s broken in someone else’s life but focusing on me for the entire hour it took me to truly express how lost I feel now that I have been stripped of the outside exterior that I have spent the past 10+ years hiding my very wounded heart & soul behind.

<INSERT REAL LIGHT BULB HERE >

Because it wasn’t until I literally typed that line out that I realized what is really bothering me!  I have nothing left to hide behind… My exterior is beautiful, know matter what anyone else’s opinion is, and, unfortunately, I can’t “bypass” my internal demons.  It just doesn’t work like that… I really wish it did!

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About formerfatbitch

I'm a former fat bitch on the path towards becoming a healthy bitch and I'm taking everyone along for the ride with me so saddle up!
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4 Responses to Identity Crisis

  1. Danielle Russo says:

    Tell me how you really feel!

  2. If anyone knows how I really feel, it’s you! LOL

  3. BigDogjn says:

    I feel you on this whole post. not that I’ve ever been a woman, but being “the big boy” or “the teddy bear” was who I had become (hid behind). now post-op I see I’m going to have to find something new to “define” myself, or maybe I won’t have a definition and just be whoever I want whenever I want the world be damned. anyway (now you have me ranting) good luck in all you do for yourself!

    • That’s love cause it feels good to know I’m not the only one feeling this way post-op! I like your outlook: I’m just gonna have to be me. No need to fit myself into a defined character. Good Luck to you, as well 🙂

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