The fat girls club

In September 2001 I kissed my husband goodbye. He was leaving on a business trip to Paris. It was an exciting time, not only was my husband able to go somewhere wonderful, we had a secret. We were finally pregnant! For some reason it had been harder that time, and we were thrilled when the ept test came back with two lines instead of one.

On September 11 my husband was flying home when the World Trade Center was attacked. His plane was over the ocean at the time, and his flight diverted to Gander Newfoundland. I didn’t hear from him for the whole day. To make things worse, I was cramping and had started spotting. I had no idea where he was or what was going on, I was scared.

The spotting and cramping continued and I was sure a miscarriage was imminent. The pain worsened however and the bleeding stopped. After 5 days Mel returned home. By that time the pain was so severe that we went straight to my OB. An ultrasound was taken and we found that I had an eptopic pregnancy. Surgery was necessary and I was taken to the hospital.

When I awoke, no longer pregnant I felt pure grief. A couple weeks later I wrote:

“The loss of this pregnancy has really affected me. More than I thought possible. I find watching others with babies makes me sad. I am surprised. I don’t understand the reason for my grief.
Thinking that I still can have other children later on brings very little solace, no real comfort for the pain I have.
I don’t understand why I grieve over one I do not know. I keep telling myself to get over it. My spirit won’t listen to my mind. Today Marlen came and said, “I’m sorry’ to me and gave me a hug.
It made me cry – I’m sorry too. It hurts much more than I thought it would.”

That experience made me part of a “club”. I get it now. I don’t tell mothers who miscarried “Oh well, this is natures way of culling out the bad." or try to lessen her grief by telling her stories of someone who had it worse. It helps nothing. I have learned a bit better to “mourn with those who mourn” (Mosiah 18:9)

Another club I am in is the fat girls club. We fat girls like to be with others who are fat. We are funny; we laugh at each others embarrassments. We comfort each other. We share our peanut M&M’s. We buy our friends Symphony bars when they have a hard day. We get it. We band together. Membership is an identity.

When I get a present others don’t, I feel guilty. When I first lost weight I felt apologetic. I wanted to say really loud, “Hi, I am sorry I look thin, but really, I am a fat girl inside, can I still be in the club?” “Can I still laugh with you at the funny things skinnies say (like I would rather sleep than eat), and will you not be offended if I give the Symphony bar to my son?” Who wants to be exclusive friends with the skinnies? They don’t hear the siren call of the ice cream at two in the morning, I have heard one skinny say that sometimes she just “forgets to eat” Who does that? They don't quite get what you are going through. You want to keep your old friends. You fear you are abandoning them, pretentiously trying to move from their table to the "popular" table in the lunchroom. Remember the recent study that said people who have fat friends are three times more likely to be obese? I think its because part of being in the club is that you give each other permission to sin. “Well, If you have a chili dog, there is no way I am going to eat a salad!” You laugh and say, “well there goes my diet today, pass the pizza!”

We have to change the membership requirements for our fat girls club. Let’s be formerly fat girls who get it, and would like to sell her soul for a pastry, yet is showing restraint. You could never forget to eat. Fatties at heart, skinnies in looks. It isn’t so scary if you give your friends more credit. Will they really be sad if you order the salad? Maybe you could invite them to do the same. Maybe they would like it if you brought baked Lays instead of full fat Cheetos to the party. Ask them to slap your hand away from pizza, the way they do for diabetics grabbing handfuls of candy. Get their support and changing will be easier.

At baptism we make a covenant that we are “willing to bear one anothers burdens that they may be light; Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort…”(Mosiah 18:8-9) I love the sisterhood of support that we have. I have been comforted, lifted up and encouraged by my friends. I am grateful for them. I have not changed my heart size or my humor size because I changed my pant size. I didn't lose my friends. I am sure that you won’t either. Go ahead, you have permission to change, and you can still be in “the club”