Monday, 18 May 2015

An Open Letter To A Depressingly Large Amount Of People:

{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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