In a post a few down from this one, a poor unhinged man is hiding behind an alias and hurling invective at me and some others because we criticized something he wrote for The Huffington Post.
His biggest card to play–this man in his fifties–is to call me “fat”.
The thing he may not realise is that (as I may have said here before) I do NOT consider being called fat an insult. I am fat. If you were trying to describe me to the cops or pick me out of a crowd it is simply the most easy descriptor. I have brown hair with some gray bits scattered in, but so do many other people. My clothes change from day to day. I’m five and a halfish feet tall, but if you don’t have a yardstick that may not do you much good.
I don’t know when Fatty Fatty Fat Fat ceased to be something that upset me and started becoming something as neutral as “she’s wearing a black sweatshirt with a dog on it”. But it happened many many years ago. I started to realise that I’m fat the way some people have darker skin. It’s just a sort of way in which we are who we are. Other folks are bothered by it. Other folks use it as an excuse to treat us poorly. Sadly, while it may cost us a job opportunity or a date or a good rate on a car loan in the long run it reveals more about the person who uses it as an insult than it does about us.
So while this man–in his fifties–continues to employee grade school tactics of rhetoric I decided I’d just take a moment here to make this clear in case someone else thinks they’ll reduce me to a state of dithering by pointing out one of the more basic facts about me.
What does make me sad? When people point out ways in which I’ve failed as a person. Ways in which I’ve been unkind. A few years ago a woman who knew me not at all said in a very public forum that I was not self-aware and that she didn’t like me. That still wounds me to think about. Mostly because I’m not sure how much more self-aware I, a professional navel-gazer, should become to please others and still not drown in narcissism. Other times folks have rightly pointed out the meanness and sharp tongue that can be my greatest stumbling block. I am ashamed of the way I have mistreated people. I am not ashamed of the way I look or the size of pants I wear.