Fat Like Me or... Writing on Girls With Markers

I've always had a theory that skinny people were just people that shouldn't be trusted. And then I get soft, and I start letting skinny people into my life because they seem nice enough. Yes, they have their downfalls: they run and can't fit in small places, but ultimately they're people, too. It's hard for me to overcome my ultimate distrustful nature of skinny people because I know if it came down to a natural disaster like a tornado, they would never have my back. Yes, thick boys like myself have a better chance of staying grounded in a funnel cloud situation, but I can just imagine a Helen Hunt F5 size tornado coming towards me, and all my friends are playing a life and death version of sardines just staring at me from a tight space right before I get pulled into the sky. I'll never be able to fully give my heart to a skinny person because I know that all they'll do is steal it and hide it in a place that I'm too large to get into... most likely a crawl space or an inconveniently narrow alleyway.
But knowing all those facts about skinny people doesn't stop me from wanting to reach out to them anyway. After meeting a girl in my class, an obviously natural-born-skinny, I decided that even though she had her moments in class, she was worth giving a chance. She tends to dominate conversation, but I thought that it was maybe because she had a Rachel Berry/Lea Michele personality--I didn't want to blame it on her being skinny until I had to. But tonight, we were talking about the footage that broadcast journalists use as anchors and reporters do the voice overs... the particular one we watched had a flurry of obese people walking around, but the camera cut off their heads, probably to hide their identity. I asked how ethical it was to use stock footage of obese people who probably didn't know they were filmed as the image of obesity in America. That soon followed with a woman in my class, Sunset, talking about how her daughter was measured for her BMI in front of her classmates and went home and told her mom that she was... ugly.
I automatically went into mommy mode and shared my absolute disgust with Sunset. It was as if my imaginary daughter had been called fat, too. Then, out of the silence, Skinny chimed in. She stated, You know, if a seven year old is obese then someone needs to tell her that she is. Someone needs to explain that she is going to get diabetes and that her weight is a problem. I know it's not related, but when I was in a sorority, we did the same thing. Then the guys from the fraternity came in with markers and marked on our bodies where we needed to lose weight, and it was embarrassing, but it was also motivating. I've tried really hard to be a mature adult in grad school; I mean, for God's sake, I wear sweaters vests and cardigans. But I couldn't help myself; I could feel that chunky middle schooler fighting from the inside as I yelled/laughed/cried Oh... oh no. Yes, Skinny is a grown woman and can allow whomever she wants to draw on her with a Sharpie, but you can't impose that kind of behavior on to an impressionable seven year old. If I ever found out that someone had called my child's BMI out in front of class, let alone drew on them with a sharpie, I would find a special place for that sharpie that even the skinniest person couldn't get to.
I started having flashbacks to sixth grade when we were forced to run a mile in under sixteen minutes. Everyone had finished, and there I was jogging (or walking, I can't remember because after the second laugh, my vision started to go) on my second lap just hoping to finish before the time was up. Middle school was not a time that we cheered for each other; middle school was a time to mock Anna G and I for not being able to carry our body weight for a mile. The whole thing was mortifying, and I promised myself that if I could just finish that mile, I would convince my parents to buy me a Hoveround, and I would never walk again. I hated all those skinny people because even when they finished, they continued to walk around like standing up wasn't even a big deal. They didn't understand what it was like to be like me, and they sure weren't open to the idea of trying to picture it.
And I suppose that anger has subsided a bit since I've gotten older. I came to terms that I would never be one of those tinys, but as I got older, I've pretty much maintained the same weight... it just distributed itself better the taller I got. Even now, as I continue to lose weight via my diet of cigarettes and cubes of cheese, I still understand the struggles of those that have a little more to love. I identify with people who understand what it's like to fluctuate between "beautiful" and "beautiful plus some." I'm inspired by people like Kirstie Alley, Josh from Drake and Josh, and the ongoing weight mystery that is Oprah Winfrey. People who are naturally large have to actually work at being skinny, which is frustrating when you're around people who can eat like fourteen hot dogs, a honey bun, a five gallon bucket of 7-11 Slurpee and then say, Wow I feel so fat today while sporting what looks like a premature food baby at best. When I meet people like that, they don't make me want to lose weight... they make me want to eat them.
So, if you're skinny... first and foremost, shame on you. Okay, maybe not shame on you... more so, consider what it's like to walk around feeling less. On top of all the comments you get throughout your day, you're the first person that sees you in the morning. You already know what people are going to say because you say it to yourself first. If you're a little bigger, remember that no matter what size you are, you are important. You should never feel like less of a person because you're a bit larger than the rest. And if you're a bigger person moving toward a skinny life based on nicotine and a couple bites of bread a day, don't do it because you want to be skinny... do it because you don't have money or because you forget to eat, like me. And if you do achieve that point of skinny-sin, then I hope you remember all the people that stared at you because you were fat. Don't forget how it felt to be stared at as you bounced much more than everyone else as you ran laps on the track. And for God's sake, don't justify telling a seven-year-old that she's going to have diabetes one day in front of her peers. If what motivates you is having a man tell you what's wrong with your body by drawing on you with a marker, maybe you need a different kind of mirror to assess what might need some work.

The Juicy Details of Being in a Greek Organization

I received a check today for what I believe was my housing deposit... a one hundred dollars that I really never anticipated seeing again. I thought to myself, "Way to go, Maryville College. This is pretty awesome." Then I started thinking back on my undergraduate experience; there are a lot of things that I did that probably did not fall under the handbook standards. Of those things, there is explicitly a place in the handbook that states that no student should be involved in a Greek organization. I did my best to hide it for as long as I could while I was in college, but now, after the fact and the housing deposit, I'm just going to come out and state it to everyone. I was in a Greek organization. Not only am I going to announce it, but I'm going to tell you all the details of what it was like to pledge, join, and eventually become Co-President. It goes against everything that I have vowed against, but here are the gruesome details of the time that I pledged... Jappa Kappa.
My freshman year, one of my friends desperately wanted to be involved in an underground organization on campus. There were of course the colors: the greens and purples and reds. Of course, if you really wanted to be among the elite girls, you would pledge the remaining society: the only girl's society with actual known Greek letters. She waited to get her bid because she was confident that she would, and to be honest, all of us were pretty confident as well. She was decently popular, well-respected, and extremely active on campus. When it was all said and done, she would not receive that letter, and because I was done with all my homework and did not really want to interact with my roommate all that much, I was there to pick up the pieces. All of the bids from all the girls' organizations had been handed out... or so she had thought. That night was the night that we all received our bid letters from an even more special organization: Jappa Kappa. My friend Kasi and I were bored and, like most college freshmen, had way too much time on our hands. So on a dark evening in 2009, we created Jappa Kappa: a formation of both of our names using only one legitimate Greek letter, so that Rebecca had a place to call her own. In the past semester, we knew that at least some of the organizations spread glitter of their organization's color across campus during their pledging weeks. It was everyone's least favorite week of college because the glitter ended up everywhere: in classrooms, in the library, in the cafeterias... sometimes in people's eyes. The glitter never officially disappeared until some time around finals week. To put it lightly... the glitter was a total bitch.

So, we approached Rebecca with our offer. To our surprise, she gladly accepted, and we were off to Target. We bought all the glitter we could find. The woman that checked us out that evening was terribly confused. I'm sure she assumed we were either just extremely enthusiastic craft people or that we were buying up stock for an upcoming gay pride parade. It really was an absurd amount of glitter. That night, we traipsed around campus wearing all black. We nonchalantly emptied our containers: red, purple, and green... and blue just because we knew that no one would really know what the hell blue was for. At one point, I feel like someone screamed out "Ya! Ya!" because it seemed appropriate, though Ellen Burstyn nor Sandra Bullock was no where to be found. Once we finished, we nodded to each other in affirmation and agreed that we had finished. We were now members of what I assume is the dumbest, but only, fratority that had ever existed.
The next day, chatter of the glitter was the talk of the town. Average students, or GDIs as the Greek system often refers to them, complained of yet another glitter mess across campus that seemed a bit more extreme than it had been in previous years. Members of the societies secretly glared at members of the others, believing it to be an early approach to a semesterly tradition. How dare those skanks in the greens do this to the reds? How could the purples screw us over like this? Eventually, it was determined that it was those preppy girls in the elite society that had caused all this mischief. Rebecca, Kasi, and I laughed under our breaths and mocked the stupidity of the glitter mess to all of our friends.
Eventually, we wanted another member, so we made our friend Sam carry around a balloon we had found for about an hour. Just like that... BAM. He was in, too. After freshman year, we all kind of gave up on Jappa Kappa, and to my knowledge, it's probably going to be nonexistent now that we've all graduated. Eventually, Kasi and I would commit to our own semi-exclusive groups and Rebecca would join a sorority once she transferred. Sam decided to go into Student Affairs, which is kind of like when a once-prostitute joins a convent to become a nun. He will spend the rest of his days asking for forgiveness for the sins he committed within the bonds of Jappa Kappa.
In my next three years, I never saw a sprinkle of glitter on the ground from the hands of the secret societies. In a weird way, I missed it. But there is something legendary knowing that the last really obnoxious, and semi-vandalistic, glitter mess was at the hand of the vengeful and haze-filled Jappa Kappa.  We were an eclectic group that never threw a party, paddled anyone, nor drank all that much. Our motto was "Don't tell anyone that we did this. We'll definitely get suspended." Every once in a while, we talk about what it was like to be in Jappa Kappa, kind of like when veterans talk about their time in 'Nam. There are flashbacks, but no one can ever take away the night that we really confused everyone by throwing glitter all over the place.