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Phatty Girl
"As a matter of fact, I had never even considered myself a fat girl."
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By Emily Schmookler
“I just wanted to thank you for going up there and doing what you’re doing…and showing that us fat people can dance.”
That comment was supposed to be a compliment from the middle aged audience member who approached me after a performance when I was 15. But to me, he was just an older man watching my body, telling me who I was, and molding me into something that I didn’t want to be.
Of course all teenagers have insecurities, but up until that moment I never considered myself a spokesperson for fat people... just someone who loved to dance and act. As a matter of fact, I had never even considered myself a fat girl. Now, I had the weight of all fat people on my shoulders.
That night I went home and cried. All of my insecurities flooded my pillow. Any confidence I had in my image was shattered. For the rest of high school, I performed with the idea that I was a fat dancer resonating in the back of my brain.
Once I started looking for colleges, I found a really cool performing arts school that I wanted to go to. I spent a whole month crafting an essay that portrayed me as a large performer, like Bette Midler, instead of a thin Audrey Hepburn. I was rejected. They said my GPA wasn’t up to par, but that obnoxious “spokesperson” comment from when I was 15 kept repeating in my mind. I wondered, was it just that I was too big for the stage?
After that letdown, I visited Hawaii, and decided to go to school out there. I remember calling my mom from the beach, confirming the move, and then adding how socially accepted big women were, and how they weren’t afraid to wear bathing suits on the beach. Did I have to move to an island to be socially accepted in a bikini?
After the move, I lost my passion for performing arts. I started watching a lot of TV, going out all night, and eating poorly. My weight fluctuated. When my roommate Mary started working at Guess clothing store, she began encouraging me to come in and buy stuff. But I still had this image of myself that I wouldn’t be able to fit into any of their clothes without looking absolutely ridiculous. Mary encouraged me to find my own style, and said, “Fashion is what you make it,” – you know, don’t knock it ‘til you try it on.
I was tired of having images of disgustingly thin women tossed in my face on billboards, magazine covers, T.V., and even seeing all the girls around me caught up in the craze. When I moved back to Berkeley, I started digging through my mom’s old clothes and window-shopping in boutiques, trying to find outfits and accessories that make me feel happy to be in my own skin. And through this exploration of fashion, I started getting more confident in my self-image.
It’s taken me six years to realize that I’m nobody’s spokesperson. And now, I embrace my curves by expressing my own style.
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