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Recently, producers of a popular television quiz program got in contact with my work, and asked my boss to submit the name of a potential participant from our office. Being a bit of a trivia nerd, I was put forward, and so I’ve been sent an application form to fill out. The form includes a space to attach a photo, so I’ve been going through my collection trying to figure out which one would be most appropriate.
Because I’d be representing my organization, I would likely be appearing in uniform—not exactly the most fatshionable of garments, although I’ve taken pains over the years to ensure that I have one that is in good shape and fits me properly. I decided that it would be best to use a photo of me in uniform, which really limits the photos I can choose from.
A couple of months ago, there was a great photo and interview spread of me, in uniform, in the local paper, talking about my work. My boss, and just about everyone else I’ve spoken with, has been encouraging me to use that photo. And it is a nice photo of me: the composition of it is excellent, and it’s a pretty accurate representation.
The reason I felt reluctant to use it shames me, deeply—so much so that I was really hesitant to make this post.
See, I made the mistake of looking at the quiz show’s website and checking out photos of their past participants. While they weren’t exactly models and rock stars, I can’t find a single person in that photo gallery who is fat.
The photo of me in the paper is a relatively flattering one, but it’s also a photo in which I am very evidently Fat with a capital F. The photographer who snapped the picture is apparently the only person in the business who hasn’t heard of the Fat Girl Angle.
It doesn’t bother me that I’m fat. It didn’t bother me that everyone who buys the paper in the town where I work knows I’m fat. But it bothered me that I might be excluded from a really cool opportunity based on the fact that I’m fat—and it bothered me enough that I considered doing a FGA photo shoot in an effort to get my fat little foot in the door. I rationalized, thusly: if I did succeed and was chosen, then they would have no choice but to put my fat ass on television, which would be a victory not just for me, but for fatties everywhere. Also, I thought, it wasn’t fair that I could be turned down for being fat. I should have the same opportunity as anyone else. So if I had the capacity to hide my fatness, why shouldn’t I take it?
Recently, more than few fat bloggers that I am proud to call friends have been in the news (because apparently the light from the Fatosphere has finally travelled the necessary number of light years to be visible from Earth). And it reminds me that what we’ve worked at for so long is the opportunity to be seen, and heard, and enjoyed for the fantastic individuals we are.
I recognize that there are a million other reasons why I could be turned down—all other things being equal, I’m not what you would call “TV pretty” (a fact that has never particularly bothered me as it hasn’t impacted my quality of life in any way). And don’t get me wrong, it pisses me right off that I could miss out on a cool opportunity, and always be left wondering if it was because of The Fat.
But it pisses me off even more that something as inane as a television show could have the power to make me feel as though hiding or disguising my fat body was the right decision, even for a moment. Because that is how they get you. That is how the system works on you from inside yourself, wearing you down until one day you find your self-esteem being drop-kicked in the junk by a Weight Watchers ad and you wonder, how did I get here?
No more, though. I'm going to send in my fat photo and I'm going to be, as ABC would put it, "bloated and gloating." And I guess we'll see what happens next.
Readers have left 3 comments. No.1 Untitled
Eve, google Leslie Frates (or is it Lesley Frates?). She's a big beautiful woman who won a hell of a lot of money on Jeopardy, and was the subject of a Radiance Magazine article. She held her own on Jeopardy, and I did, and you will too!
Actually, if you would like some hints and/or coaching, email the address I used to sign up for this account.
You can do it! Don't stress out too much and try to enjoy the process. You go, girl! No.2 Untitled
But it pisses me off even more that something as inane as a television show could have the power to make me feel as though hiding or disguising my fat body was the right decision, even for a moment. Because that is how they get you. That is how the system works on you from inside yourself, wearing you down until one day you find your self-esteem being drop-kicked in the junk by a Weight Watchers ad and you wonder, how did I get here? — EveSo sadly true. As an aside, I've seriously considered changing the little subtitle of the website to "bloated and gloating online". I resist because I know not everyone finds it as funny as I do. No.3 Untitled
I just want to reassure you. I am fat, I was on a game show last year. The reason I was practically the only fat girl ever on the show I was on was because, as far as I could tell from the cattle-call tryouts - no other fat girls appeared to try out. So I was a little proud of myself because fatties gotta represent! Good luck! |
