{WARNING: this is LONG}
Dear Whoever You Are;
Did it make you feel good?
Did it make
you feel good and big and brave and manly, yelling out insults at a girl you’ve
never seen before and will (hopefully) never see again?
Was there some kind of
satisfaction; a sense of inner well being derived from that? There must be, for
otherwise I can’t think why someone would do it.
You aren’t the first, you see.
It’s happened so often over
my lifetime that I’ve actually lost count. Always during the summer and always
coming from the mouth of the same kind of person; loutish looking young men –
skinny young men – ranging from pre-teen to mid twenties in age.
Sometimes they
are drunk, sometimes they are drugged, sometimes they appear to be neither.
Either way, the result is the same. They lay eyes on me and make the conscious
decision to yell at me. Sometimes the yelling is done from a fair distance away.
Sometimes, as experienced about a week ago, it is done distressingly close to
my face and so loudly that it makes my ears ring. Sometimes, as experienced a day ago, it is in between the two. Always, it is done from
within the safety of a group of at least two people, usually more, and aimed at me when I am walking alone.
No matter how it is done, or who by, it always hurts.
Really hurts.
Look, I know I am fat. Really. Believe it or not, I have
noticed. I’ve even noticed that I am not just a little bit fat, but FAT, in
capital letters. Really, I am aware of it. I am aware of it and aware that it
isn’t the best way to be, but it is what it is. My goal, should you be
interested, is to get back to a stage that my body is happy with, so that I am
merely a little bit fat. It is something that I am working on achieving, bit by
bit, in my own way.
You of
course, aren’t to know that (nor is it any of your business to). What you know
about me is what you see, in those few seconds that our paths cross. That is
how it is with strangers; they pass each other in the street, glance at one
another, perhaps their eyes meet for a moment or two and a temporary connection
is formed and then it is over. That is how it works. Generally speaking,
anyway; or at least it is for me.
Until, that
is, I encounter people like you.
Do you hope that it upsets me? I suppose you must do, or you
wouldn’t do it. That’s what people say about bullies: they do it for a
reaction. No reaction, no point.
That’s what
you are, you know.
A bully.
Every
remark, be it flung at some stranger in passing or jabbed in the direction of
someone you know, is a form of bullying. You probably don’t see it that way; to
you it may be merely funny, a bit of a lark, a ‘joke’. But it is. Or maybe you
do see it that way. Maybe, as I said earlier, it gives you a form of
satisfaction to act the way you do, knowing how hurtful it is.
And it is. Hurtful.
You may not
see it, at the time. Indeed I try very hard not to let you see it. So you may
not get the sick little thrill you are looking for at the time. But I do react.
Later. When I am alone. When you aren’t there to see me and gloat and get any
more satisfaction from my distress than you may already have done.
People I have told about it – not many – say that you are
simply ignorant, twisted individuals and that I shouldn’t pay any attention.
That I shouldn’t let it get to me. You aren’t worth it, they assure me. I am
worth a hundred of you.
And I know
that, deep down.
I know that
I am better than you are. It doesn’t take much to be that. Merely by refraining
from slinging insults at people I don’t find to be particularly attractive, for
whatever reason, I am a better person than you are.
But it goes deeper than that.
I am a better person because far
from slinging insults, I very rarely even think them. Sometimes I do, before I
can stop myself – nobody is perfect – but it is very rare, and on those rare
occasions my conscience gives me a hearty kick and I feel not only guilty (and
ashamed) but find my inner self asking what right I have to judge anyone about
anything? It’s not as if, the Inner Me chastises, I am perfect, after all.
You see, that is what a better person than you, a nice
person, does.
I am a nice person.
Not
a perfect person (not by any means), but a nice one. There are lots of such
people around. Normal,
every day, nice people; people that are not perfect, but would help another –
stranger or not – in trouble and don’t feel the irresistible urge to go out of
their way to hurt the feelings of others. We throng the earth in our millions,
unnoticed for the most part by all the other nice, normal people around them
(until, as I said, one or more of them need help).
People like you are (mercifully) a minority.
There seem to be a lot of you,
but that is just because you are so much louder than everyone else, not because
you are plentiful. What is the saying? The squeaky gate gets noticed first? You
are like that. Loud, obnoxious, noticeable. But few.
I keep telling myself that. I know that.
But it
doesn’t make the hurt go away. It doesn’t make me dread going outside any less,
knowing that any second I might encounter you, any of you, and that yet more
name calling would commence.
I don’t
expect to be showered with adoration and admiring stares when I walk down the
street. I know, as I said, that I am not shaped in a way that some find
attractive (although lots of people would and do find me attractive, crazy as
that might sound). What I would like, nay, what I deserve, is to be able
to walk down the street and do so unmolested by the likes of you.
That’s all
I want.
You can
find me as disgusting looking as you like. That is your right. You can talk too,
to your chums, about how disgusting looking you find me to your hearts’
content. That is your right, too. It’s not pleasant, but it is your right all
the same. I am not denying that.
Just keep it amongst yourselves
and leave me alone.
That is MY right.
Do you – can you – understand that?
It is my right, as a human being.
I have the right to walk down any street at any time and not be assaulted, be
it physically or verbally, just as everybody else does (including you).
By denying me that right, you may
not be breaking any laws (unfortunately), but you are infringing on my rights
just the same, and morally speaking, that makes you a terrible person.
And terrible people do get
their comeuppance in the end, somehow or other. I am quite certain that they
do.
So be warned. Sooner or later,
the universe will ask you to answer for it.
To sum up before I finish, here are a few facts about me
that you would discover if you took the trouble to look past the size you
apparently find so repulsive:
* I am funny.
* I am kind.
* I am (quite) clever.
* I am (very) pretty.
* I love to read (anything and everything).
* I love to write (same).
* I collect rocks, tacky ornaments and cuddly toys
* I am loved by many.
And last but not least, as I mentioned before earlier on in
the letter; fat or not, there are many people that find me very attractive
indeed.
So there.
Yours, faithfully,
The fat girl people like you have
more than once reduced to tears.
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