Who tf is THIS?

Seeing a stranger in the mirror.

Hello and welcome. I’m going to issue a broad general content warning here. Today I’m talkin body ody ody. Mine. Weightloss, diet culture, thinness and how much I am not enjoying my new privilege. There shall be some media to go along with my words.

First WHO TF IS THIS?

I mean BITCH IS U SRS? WHO IS THAAAAAAAT?

Also yes I have a fat pussy but leggings make all pusswow look fat if they don’t fit. I had to tug them up all fuckin day.

The above photo was taken of the author in 2010 in our old place. An OOTD for Fatshionista, all 1x or so. I was SO INTO THIS BODY LOOK HOW THICK I WAS!

First I have to tell you if you don’t know me. I have a complex. In my head I’m Deebo size and demeanor. Not that I wanna be a shitty bully nah. I don’t like using my ability to bully for evil. But in my head that’s the vibe. In my head I am Tommy Lister Jr size. Height6 ft 5 inWeight 299 lbs.

In reality I am 5’3”. As of ten minutes ago I’m weighing in at 119 lbs. Honestly after being a fat person most of my adult life I forgot I’m actually petite. I’m fuckin smol. Got lil ass hands, wee lil wrists, small feet. I am not lorge I am a short king. And I got an attitude about it.

About this time of year in 2023 I was really sick with my gallbladder and weighed less. The day I had surgery I was just over 100 lbs and not into it at all. At that weight I was in so much pain. Laying down hurt, sitting hurt. My bony ass body felt bruised all over. It made my sleep worse and in general I was super freaked out by my own body.

When I say freaked out here’s what I’m saying.

The dysphoria is ongoing and got intense. Matter of fact it started on my way to surgery for my gallbladder. Two nurses held me up on a scale and upon seeing the number I literally went, “oh nooooooooooooooooooo.” In clear distress. I made them redo it and was put back in bed and wheeled into surgery with tears in my eyes. It was the first thing I thought about when I woke up.

How the fuck could I be that thin? HOW?

Then I took some photos of myself that are gone now with my stolen phone and I got it. I don’t know what my body looks like in a real way. I can’t close my eyes and have an accurate picture. I try but it’s never accurate. I will suddenly realize that my panties don’t fit and freak out. This time was different.

I was so profoundly uncomfortable at a very low weight. I did not know I had a thigh gap. A big one. I was not good with it. Worse when someone complimented me on it in the wild. That had me fucked up for a good couple of days. Why is anyone congratulating me on the arrangement of my pelvic bones? Just happy to see my pussy remains where I left her? Around this time I stopped doing regular outfit posts because I felt self conscious.

Real talk it was not cool and when I realized it was there was about when I figured out not only had I lost all my hips, thighs and ass but my body shape changed. I have long relied on having a deep connection to and awareness of my body and all of a sudden it was gone.

The way my brain works after I realized how thin I was, I replayed things people had said in passing to me. The look on the face of the nurse in the ER when I dry heaved so hard I rolled out of my wheelchair and she was patting me saying, “oh you poor little thing.” Some of the looks from neighbors I’ve known for a few years. OH shit.

I spent 2024 regaining weight and these days I seem to top out at about 130 but after my last go round of a big GI problem I’m cruising around 119 and struggling to stay there.

SO now we’re all caught up with my physical ass let’s talk about my emotional ass. She’s out.

Emotionally I’m in a glass cage of emotions that are mostly overwhelm and due to my sense of hyper responsibility about everything ever, I feel like I did it to myself. I did not. I keep having to remind myself aggressively I didn’t choose to have these changes or to have to replace my whole wardrobe by surprise. I had to replace so much and I already was in the process of culling my wardrobe.

When I look at my body I do not recognize it. New scars, differently shaped belly, my thighs evaporated and the precious half inch of booty n hips I grew is long gone. I have a particular aesthetic and not being certain how to get it has been frustrating. I’m wearing differently cut clothing, differently cut bras.

Some of this I don’t hate. My smaller boobs are not a problem. I am kinda into it and have enjoyed freeing myself of underwires and not feeling like one of my titties is gonna swing and bust me in the mouth or break my glasses. I’ve done both before. And CHEAP BRALETTES HOLY SHIT.

But a lot of my aesthetic does not work on my now smol frame. I should admit here if you don’t know me you don’t know but I got an attitude about being small. I DO NOT FUCK WITH IT. Right after gallbladder surgery the attitude was BIG. I spent a lot of time avoiding people I know so they wouldn’t comment. I couldn’t take it.

Let’s pause here to remember. Don’t comment on folks bodies good or bad unless they’ve made it clear they are good for that. When people do it to me I feel gross for days. A few times I went home in tears.

Now fast forward I got back into a more normal weight range but I still don’t like it. To this very morning I picked up my panties to put on and stared at them for a full minute and almost started hollering for my partner to find out who’s tiny ass draws them are. Mine. I got em on right now. My tiny ass drawers.

And here is my problem. Every glimpse I DO NOT KNOW WHO THE FUCK THAT IS.

bitch who?

NO FOR REAL WHO IS THAT BITCH RIGHT THERE?

Then I have to gentle parent myself to be calm. I tell myself bro you’ve been the same height since you were 12 years old. Remember the good doctor who told you how tall you’d be and how happy you were about that? Look it ain’t all bad you don’t got hardly a bra on, can we think about our big feelings before acting?

I also have to confess that this is my first time feeling real I made it myself self consciousness about my body. I don’t know what to do with the feelings.

My feelings are all weeping and wailing about not growing Pixar mom hips. I feel so thin in a way that feels dangerous to me. I feel not good when I run into people I haven’t seen in years, I see the look in the eye. A few people have approached me saying right out the gate they KNEW I was only doing fat activism back in the day to try and get famous.

bitch no.

And on the other hand I feel embarrassed to feel so weird about this. Shit I feel weird about THIS here lil newsletter. But as I’ve always done, the more uncomfortable I am the more I need to do the thing that’s making me uncomfortable. So here I am.

Now that I’ve yapped your face off lemme show u the belly.

Nothing gross I promise unless scars make you feel squeamish. So a lil tw scars.

For all the feelings and terror and months of feeling so terrible it seems like not enough of a scar. And yet I feel so much. I don’t know that belly. That is not my belly. Where is my FUCKING TUMMY? WHERE ARE MY THIGHS?

So really what it all comes down to is that I am not vibing with my meatsuit right now. It feels weird. It looks weird to me. I see my own reflection and have a moment of stranger danger. buying clothing is confusing.

The part of my new thin privilege I am enjoying is less boobs. From a big DD to a small C. I’ve been buying bralettes and whatnot. I realized it was always the boob sway that I couldn’t take as a sensation so that’s been cool. Clothes cut for Asian folks tend to fit me quite well.

I’m figuring it out. I still think twice before buying clothes that don’t go up at least to 3x and further if they are handmade. I’m buying as ethically as I can which isn’t very due to being brokebroke and having to start from scratch. I’ll be needing to buy a bunch of underpants after we move and pants for winter. Last winter I bought 2 pairs and called it a day neither of which fit now.

I’m feeling like I’m doing better emotionally. Except when I gave away a prized Killstar piece I never even got to wear but it was a 1x and was not going to fit me again so I gave it to a young lady who wore it with pride. She sent me a photo and she looked GLORIOUS IN IT AND SHE GOT THE GIRL! HEY BOO HEYYYYY.

okay that’s all for now. It’s not the depths of my despair but you get it. That’s where I’m at. I’m a stranger in my own body. My health status is mystifying and scary as tainted with stress as it is and the only thing not freaking me out is my boobs.