“They Are All Fatties!”

In my freshman year of high school, I was a yound14, while in one of my classes the voice over the PA system listed off several names of students. I was one of them. We were told to report to the conference room at the school entrance.

Myself and several other confused looking students made our way out of our respective classrooms, merging in the halls and growing in number as we all headed in the same direction. Never had I been called out like this, it was early in my freshman year, I don’t think I would have had time to get into trouble. A bit perplexed and curious as to what this was about, I walked along.

This conference room had two walls of glass abutting the hallway so everyone could see in as well as out. Fish in a fishbowl.

We all gathered and sat at the large oval conference table, maybe 20 of us students, and a few adults. There may have been the principal, teacher, and nurse. A few adults, and my fellow students all looking awkward and nervous given the unknown.

Words were spoken by one of the adults, something about “concern”, students “are at risk” when simultaneously a few female students walked down the hall past the conference room.

The room was not sound proof.

I could hear one of the young women in the hall inquire out loud to her friend,

“whats going on, why are ‘they’ all in there. Oh my god! THEY. ARE. ALL. FATTIES!”

Her words had grown louder as she spoke while her face more expressive with each word.

We in the conference room could all hear.

And, oh how these two female students laughed, and laughed.

At US.

ALL OF US.

Shock, shame, humiliation, confusion ran through me. I looked at the other students. We had been ambushed by this meeting. The staff gathered us because of their concern over our fat bodies.

Do not ask me what happened next at this meeting as I seriously do not remember the details. Maybe a hypnotist could help me.

But really it does not matter what happened in the room next since the slash through my heart had been made. I can recall how I felt.

I was fat, and up until then I didn’t know it. The school staff thought we students were at ‘risk’. And, they thought it would be a good idea to gather us up to talk to all of us. Surprise us.

This was not an attack on female bodies since there were male and female students in the room.

I never told anyone about this event. Not my parents, siblings, friends, another teacher. No one. Some kids could probably blow this off as adults doing stupid stuff, but I was not that kid. It affected me in a very embarrassing, shameful way. Hide, bury it, pretend all was okay became modus operandi. When in reality I was not.

Years later when thinking about this I ask myself so many questions. What were these adults thinking, how did they think this was a good idea? What did they think would come out of this? How did the other kids in the room feel? I do wish I could recall in greater detail what happened, after that initial realization our being gathered.

I do know this meeting did not help me. I began to see myself and feel differently about my body and my own trust in myself.

When I was younger my mother did take me clothes shopping, the size label said “husky” on it. My body was more “solid” as my dad would describe. I was strong, climbing trees and falling out of them. Baseball was my first team sport since softball hadn’t been out there yet. I was good at baseball. Athletics was my thing. I was built for football, not a ballerina.

Now, at this meeting, my strong athletic body was being shamed. On this day my body became a source of concern -from someone else’s perspective. And I believed it.

My being fat became one of the bullshit stories I started to tell myself. My perspective shifted. I internalized this as though this was about me being a bad person who was unworthy. Trusting my own inner voice became questionable.

Why didn’t I share this story with anyone? I was ashamed. Embarrassed. Shocked. Emotionally tiny. I felt less than. For a long time. For years. For decades.

It was one of those events that became one of my stories that had an impact on my life. The voice of someone else took root in my head that day. This story despite evidence to the contrary became one of my bullshit stories I carried, and believed for far to long.

Had I shared the details of this meeting with a trusted adult back then, things might be different. It might have been diffused-in my head. Of course I will never know, so here I am diffusing it. Looking at my photos now of my freshman self, clearly I was not fat. Indeed I was solid. To this day.

First we have to hear that bullshit story that runs on that endless loop in our head. Then, challenge it. Whose voice is it? If it is not kind, it is not our own voice. It is someone else’s. These stories become our limiting belief. If we have the power to take them in, then we also have the power to let them go.

Our true essence is kind/loving. We are all guided and protected. I am not saying perfect. I am not saying we will go without challenges. We humans are kind at our core. It starts and stays with us. It is only when the voice of the “other” rises up that we begin to hide who we are.

One of my turning points came at the age of 14 in that conference room. The voice of the “other” was planted. Allowing it to take root was a learning moment. I started to hide my authentic self.

But, it has been a process of recognizing, awareness, introspection, and kindness so I can let that “other” voice go.

It’s in my control as to who’s voice I listen to.

I am the voice.