Being Fat

What Losing 180 pounds Does to your Body & Your Mind

Jen Larsen is a fiercely real, funny, and honest writer. In her new book, Stranger Here: How Weight-Loss Surgery Transformed My Body and Messed with My Head, she explains how losing 180 pounds and getting skinny wasn't all she thought it would be. Here, in an essay for R29, she explains what it's like to live through surgery - with unexpected results. The doctor said, "It'll be nice to be able to walk down the aisle of an airplane, right? To fit down the aisle, and to not see that look of horror when someone sees you coming."

He said that because I weighed 300 pounds. He said that because he thought that all I wanted in life was to not be that creeping horror, shuffling sideways to the back of the plane, trying not to make eye contact with anyone because I didn't want to see their relief when I passed by. Trying not to make eye contact with the person in my row because I didn't want to see horror, and I really didn't want to see pity, and I really didn't want someone to lean over and explain to me that I was fat and that there are things I could do about it. Like water and jogging, or carrots and the Thighmaster.

He said that like it was a fact about all fat people. All fat people hate themselves. All fat people know that what's good in life is really only accessible to thin people. Thin is the most important variable in of life's equations. Thin equals happy, thin equals beautiful, thin equals a life worth living.

The most embarrassing fact of my life - and oh, how many embarrassing facts there are in my life - is that it was true. I was angry at him for saying it, for buying into the cliché of the fat person. For assuming that my life would transform immediately. Because he was saying all the things I had secretly thought. He was reinforcing all the secret fantasies I had about the way everything about me would be more amenable and lovable and acceptable to the whole rest of the world. To everyone on airplanes and everyone in my life. To myself. When I lost all the weight. When I got weight loss surgery.

He was my psychological consultant, the doctor who was tasked with clearing me for surgery. He signed off my mental and emotional fitness to get a surgery that I genuinely believed was going to save my life. Not just physically - though I was actually healthy - but emotionally.

And, three months later I got weight loss surgery. Seven months later I had lost over a hundred pounds; a year and a half from my surgery date, I had lost about 180 pounds. I lost a lot of things along with the weight. I lost my sense of self. My sense of proportion. My sense of dignity, of maturity, of control. I was skinny, but my life wasn't suddenly and magically perfect-and that completely astonished me. It sounds ridiculous, having really fallen for the fairy tale of weight loss. But I had fallen for it completely, and then was blinded by the egregious lack of a happily ever after.

The nature of the weight loss surgery I got is that you can completely ignore the things the doctors tell you to do. They say, exercise, don't drink, don't smoke, eat well. And you don't bother to do any of that, but still lose weight. You still lose every pound you want to lose, and then some.

The problem was that I lost all those pounds, but I didn't have to change a thing about my self. I didn't have to address any of the emotional or psychological issues. I didn't have to figure out why I had been depressed - why I was still so, so depressed, despite the fact that the one thing I thought had been ruining my life was suddenly gone.

I was skinny, finally, and I was fascinated by the physicality of it. It was like my skeleton had floated up to the surface from the bottom of a murky pond. I had muscles and tendons and bones and in the shower I'd soap the ridges of my ribs, the knobs of my hipbones, and be amazed to make their acquaintance. It wasn't pretty-I lost so much weight that I didn't look like myself, and then I lost past that, to the point where I looked like a sick stranger. Briefly, I was a size two. Sometimes I was disappointed that I couldn't be a size zero.

It doesn't go away, you see. I thought that my body was wrong when I was obese; I thought my body was wrong when I was thin past the point of health. I thought there was something wrong with my body whatever I looked like, because there's always just one more thing to fix before I look perfect, feel good in bed with hands on my body, feel sexy in a dress or a bathing suit, feel comfortable in my skin.

I felt helpless before. I tried to dodge out of the feeling by getting weight loss surgery, and now I'm angry. That I wasn't fixed, yes. But also that so many people deal with this, this exact and pervasive struggle at whatever size they are, whatever shape, whatever they do. That we're not good enough, with the implication that the best we have to offer to the world is an appropriately sized pair of jeans.

Magazine articles about body image talk about loving yourself despite your flaws. Sometimes they get really radical and they talk about loving yourself because of your flaws, and that is supposed to be empowering. And it makes me mad, because we're talking about flaws here. A body that doesn't look like the body of a Victoria's Secret model is a flawed factory reject. My thighs aren't the thighs of a figure skater, so they're not good enough, but I should love the flubby little things anyway because I am so incredibly self-compassionate.

I want this: I want to say, don't love yourself even though you're not perfect - love yourself because you have a body and it's worth loving and it is perfect. Be healthy, which is perfect at whatever size healthy is and at whatever size happy is. And of course that's totally easy and I have just caused a revolution in body image. Let's all go home now.

Right. So, I don't know what the answer is, and I don't know how to make it happen, and I don't know what to do except keep yelling about it, wherever I can. Saying there's no magic number, and there's no perfect size - and of course you know that, but we have to keep telling each other because it's hard to remember sometimes. We have to keep saying it. We have to figure out how to believe it. 

I have never read anything so honestly put out there in the news section of my Yahoo.  I was pleasantly surprised to see something with the point of view of a fat person, although a now skinny fat person.  But unlike the author of the article I did not fall for the fairy-tale belief that if I was skinny my life would be perfect.  Being smaller was never a priority for me.  I hoped it would help make the people I wanted  to know better see me.  I had gotten so good at becoming invisible that I became invisible to everyone.

I think the combination of my personality and being fat was a volatile mix.  I think it is important to know that I did not suffer any abuse until I was 10 years old.  TEN YEARS OLD.  I look at my nieces at that same age and I am shocked at how developed they are.  I did not have a mean word said to me during my developmental years,it was just the normal sibling rivalry.  I need to give my parents a lot of credit for giving me a solid base to start from.  I was loved and I searched out my talents and who I was.  I think about those years with such a fondness.  I felt more of an adult when I was 6 years old then when I hit 16.  Before my move I was the popular girl at school.  I was the teachers pet who was given the responsibility to get the milk for the class.  That was a status symbol.  It showed the esteem and trust the teachers had for who the chose to be a milk carrier and I knew the other kids envied me when I was chosen for the job.  I was able to build on that trust becoming a go to kid, not only for the adults, but for my other classmates.  I was picked to do the special jobs like collect all the lunch tickets.  I was noticed by my teachers and the other students for my talents, not for the way I looked.  I was so cute, just look at the pictures, but I was always bigger than the other kids my age.

My mother put me into piano rather early.  I started out in a rec center mommy and me class.  I remember sitting on the piano bench screaming because they were forcing me to play.  They weren't going to make me do something I didn't want to even then.  Finally I was convinced to try.  I liked it and I started to  gravitate towards music.  My mother found me a very professional teacher because she had me memorizing Bach and Beethoven when I was only 8 years old and then entered me into competitions.  I won quite a few, but at that time it didn't mean anything to me.  I liked winning, but I did not need the win.  I performed in talent shows and concerts.  I tried different instruments and was finding out what I was good at.  I don't have any idea what my life would have been like if we stayed in Burbank.  I heard stories of gangs roaming the High Schools.  I longed to be back there many times.  I just knew that I would be a top dog in one of the gangs.

But everything changed when I moved to Simi.  It was a double edge move for me.  In Burbank there just weren't any girls my own age.  Your block is your life growing up and the only other girl was a teenager.  I wasn't included in the rituals of girl society.  I did not understand the subtle cues given or the manipulation and nobody showed me.  I liked the boys.  They were easy to understand and you can be just friends under the age of twelve, but with the interest of "hooking up" later on in life, I lost that chance for friendship.

I moved to Simi and there were plenty of people my age, involved in good activities, so everything should have been wonderful, but it was a nightmare.  I was judged on the way I looked.  I had gone through my life being judged on my talent & personality and then it was all about my physical body.  I didn't know how to take it.  I knew the words coming at me were true, but to me it had no baring on who I was.  I knew that what people said about me was wrong, but I didn't know what to do.

So I tried to prove myself to others.  I wanted to show others that I was a valuable member of society.  I had my faults, but I had good qualities.  I tried to become talented and smart.  That became my main motivation in life.  It wasn't to be better than you, but to be judged on how I truly was.  It wasn't a good motivation.  I hungered for attention, but I wasn't going to debased myself to get it.  I wasn't going to allow myself to become the person that these people seemed to think I was.  I wasn't going to become a whore or a nasty girl willing to do anything for a little "love".  So I had to come up with other ways to be noticed, but they never seemed to work because I just did not want to be noticed for the bad. 

Meanwhile, I was battling the doctors and battling my own body.  There is something wrong with my physical form, there has always been something wrong, but all I get is a shrugged of shoulders from the Medical field.  I was poked and prodded constantly, but nothing was ever accomplished and I had to live with the results.  I still do.  I am not surprised that I am so sick now.  I knew my body wasn't working right and so I am not surprised that it is breaking down now.

The abuse was constant.  Ever day I was told how fat and ugly I was and every day it hurt just as much as the first time they said it, because I didn't understand why that nattered.  What does being fat & ugly have to do with anything?  Why was it so important to tell me?  What could I do?  I'll tell you what I did, I hardened. 

The abuse came from everyone.  It wasn't just the jocks or the skater boys.  It came from the intelligent.  It came from the cheerleaders.  It came from the fringe, just as much as from the mainstream, but what I can say is my defenders came from the same groups.  I did not understand the motivation of those that stood up for me or gave me a kind word, but they kept my faith in humanity alive.  Just like I didn't know where the cruelty would come from I was often surprised at who would share the kindness.

The abuse stunted me.  I had to concentrate so hard on surviving that I did not really have any normal relationships with anyone.  My friend told me that I seemed to resent & hate people during that period.  Let me inform you that was not the case.  I know because I would stop myself and ask if I felt hate.  I didn't, but I had harden and develop a manner that sent people away.  It was just safer that way.  I do not know how I could have been any different.  A person has one chance to present themselves to me.  One, that is it.  If you don't make an impression then I cross you off the list in my mind and you do not exist for me.  I realize now how unfair that can be, but I am tired of being hurt to my very core.

Unlike the author of the previous article I have tried to work on myself.  I have spent the past 15 years trying to catch up to who I was before the abuse.  I have spent hours pondering myself and my choices.  I have studied my actions and I have tried honestly to change and a lot has, but in many ways I still feel stunted. 

When I was a Behaviour Therapist, my main job was to tell the child that what they were doing was not appropriate.  I wished that many times for myself.  I wished over and over again that I had someone watching my behaviour and choices and could tell me how it looked to the rest of the world.  I can take the criticism, just don't be mean.  I have a reason for everything I do.  But knowing that the people around me do not understand my reasoning goes a long way to avoiding problems.

I apologize publicly to those of you reading who knew me from childhood.  I had to go off of the assumption that everyone I meet wanted to harm me.  I had to protect myself and I am still living with that confusion even today.  No one abuses me now, but I do not feel connected to anything.  Is it important that I exist?  I don't feel it.  And in that way my abusers won.  They told me I was worthless.   The told me that my very existents was poisonous and harmful.

And despite my constant fight to prove myself otherwise, I believe them.

Trying To Be Beautiful

 

I do not have very many photo's of myself.  That is mainly because I am the person with the camera in my hand, but I have to admit that I feel very ugly in them.  These photo's are illusion.  These photos repersent how I see myself with hair, make-up and a soft light.  The other photos are how other people see me.  They are snap shots of reality and I don't like thoose.  In this post are my professional pics.  The Black & White photos were for my agent, the rest I did for fun, so I am not wearing my glasses.

I realized that being universally beautiful is very rare.  Beauty seems much more prevalent then it really is.  And I believe that is because we are bombarded with very attractive people in the media.  I'm not going to go into the social ramification of beauty in society, but since I have started watching British TV shows, I have noticed a dramatic difference in their choice of actors.  I am not talking about the main characters, they have to have some kind of beauty for us to watch whether that is physical or not, no I am talking about the back-up people.  In the British shows I have seen some down right ugly people!  I am sometimes startled by the casting directors choice, but I find myself thinking, "They must really have talent because that person would never make it here in America." 

Now I get annoyed with the American shows & Movies.  I mean, I watch a crime drama and every single person is beautiful from the pedestrians walking the streets to the hookers or bums.  They maybe dirty, but they still have flawless features.  I laugh when I see a scene featuring an actress freshly out  of the shower with full face make-up on.  Come On!  Are we really so vain? Oh, yes we are.

I thought everyone in the world was beautiful, but me.  I thought there was no hope for me, but then I started to look around.  I was traveling home from school on public transportation and a really beautiful young lady caught my eye  I normally put on my headphones and try to block everything out while trying very hard to be ignored by the general population. but she was so pretty to me that her looks jarred me into noticing the other people around me.  I began to wonder.  How many beautiful people would I meet in the course of my travels?

I lived in Long Beach, Cali going to Fashion Design College.  It is expensive enough with living costs, but add the money for supplies and it was just murder!  My mother loves sewing and she had a whole backroom added onto the house where she hoarded her treasures.  I had a huge advantage over the students away from home with owning my own sewing machines and every needed fabric & trims on hand, if I went home over the weekend, plus if we didn't have it, Mom was more than willing to spend the afternoon buying it.  I was not going to pass this advantage up.  I was trying to spend as little money as possible.  A car was an expense I wasn't willing to take on, so through a bunch of research I found I could get from Long Beach to my home in Simi Valley all for a cost of $10.  I was very lucky, but it took 4 hours.  I could go back on the train, but my mother was willing to drive me back down to the dorms after the weekend.  That worked out the best because I usually had a project in my bag or some groceries to stash in my room.  That drive took an hour with no traffic.

Here is the run down of the trip.  I used the buses for 2 years in Long Beach and they were all horrible.  Sometimes I would wait for close to an hour in the so very, very cold, but there was a stop in front the the school that ran like clockwork.  I hopped on that bus riding it 5 miles or more to where the Blue line train crossed its route.  Thankfully it was a straight shot.  Then hurried to board the blue line train. It isn't underground, but a subway type train.  That Blue line would snake through Long Beach and I would ride it all the way until it ended at the Red line.  Then you had to choose which way on the Red line to go.  I moved into Downtown LA where the Red line became a Subway.  I would ride that car until to Union Station.  The place is huge.  LA's version of Grand Central Station.  I laugh now when I see a train station on TV because it is usually the LA Union Station you see.  That place was confusing because every form of transportation converged there.  I found I needed to boarded a big Amtrak train.  That one was trickier because it only left 2 times a day, if you missed it, you missed it, unlike the subway, where another one would show up in 10 minutes.  I then rode the big commuter train to Simi where my Mom would pick me up.  It was quite exhausting all the waiting.  I was always very glad to be home.
Here's the kicker.  I saw maybe a dozen people I thought were attracted and only one person I would call beautiful in my year of noticing.  I started to really look at the people around me.  I started to really look for beauty and I was startled by the lack of that particular trait in the movement of everyday life.   And yet we pour so much time and effort into being beautiful.

The point of this story is to offer perspective.  My thinking shifted.  I happen to have very attractive cousins and aunts.  That helped to skew my thinking being the ugly duckling among a group of swans.  I assumed they knew they were beautiful, but when I hear them talk about being ugly my jaw drops.  I opened my eyes to the everyday people walking the streets, handing us our drinks and who we live with.  I started to see why someone who was really attractive would go to Hollywood.  Universal beauty is a very rare trait.

I tried to be beautiful.  I was successful in the fact that others began to notice me.  I have never been called beautiful or pretty or attractive.  I have been called "put together" or told that I "looked good".  And I did.  I worked very hard for my looks to not hamper me, but my goodness, it is expensive!  Not only that, but it is a lot of work to up keep. 

It all started with a fabulous haircut by someone who knew the world of beauty.  She knew what products to use, how and when.  I was so clueless in that area.  I knew whenever I saw this woman it was going to be a 100 bucks without blinking.  My hair has always been my crowning glory.  When someone was forced to compliment me as a sullen teenager it was always about my hair.  I have a very gold base red hair.  I wore it long and when it was freshly cut with the dramatic angles I felt beautiful.  I saw possibilities.  I saw the chance to be acceptable in the world around me.  I decided to try contacts once again when I found they had disposables for my terrible astigmatism.  That was so much money.  Over $300 for a one month supply when I could buy a cute pair of glasses for the same amount and they would last for years.  I finally gave up and went that route for the cost and because those contacts hurt.

With contacts people could suddenly see my eyes.  Hiding behind a pane of glass I could get away with out too much make-up, but with contacts I looked awful without the definition.  I had to have mascara because my eyelashes look Blonde.  I had to have eyeliners and I needed to darken my eyebrows.  So this spiraled me into another crazy set of action.  I hated putting the make-up on.  It sounds nuts but I began to resent the waste of time.  I found a person who could tattoo an eyeliner on to my eyes.  It hurt like a mo-fo, but it was really great.  My mother said you know it's good when nobody notices.  It has since rubbed off, you have to get the tattoo refreshed once a year.  I also had my eyelashes dyed.  I figures $40 for a month of masacra free life was worth it, but the color dropped out after only a couple of days.  I was really mad about that one.  It wasn't laziness that prompted my search.  I can't stand the feel of make-up.  I rub it off on accident all the time and find the lipstick on my teeth constantly.  It wasn't just putting it on and forgetting it, but a constant need to be aware of something that I didn't care about.  Girls have to think about how they look constantly.  It is more valuable then currency in this world.  It doesn't leave much time for other thinking. I'm just glad I didn't get my eyebrows done.  That would have lead me into a another dark tunnel of no return.  I was thinking about it.

I was at the top of my game.  I was the prettiest that I was going to be.  My closet is filled with high quality clothing that did the best with my body shape.  My hair the nicest it has every been, the make-up done.  I was as good as it was going to get and I knew I still fell short.  In the end the expense, the time and the total lack of response from the male gender lead to me giving up.  My looks have never defined me to myself.  I have avodied looking in the mirror for most of my existence, so being pretty didn't change that for me.

In Long Beach I had a tough time making friends as always.  We just did not think alike.  I found a Viking Goddess for a friend quite by accident.  She liked that I thought outside the box.  We had been invited to a party and despite my reservations I accepted.  Sara came over to my dorm room so we could get ready together.  It was surprisingly fun for me since I had never had that experience before.  I very rarely feel comfortable enough with another person to be silly.  We were standing side-by-side checking ourselves in my closet door mirrors when I glanced at her.  Sara was tall and board.  She had the body of an American Gladiator or a body builder.  Her hair was a straight platinum Blonde which almost looked white against her tan skin tone.  She had bright piercing through blue eyes like those of a bird.  She wasn't a classic delicate beauty, but when I looked at her and then I looked at me I finally realized the horrible disadvantage I had. 

With a sicken clarity I realized that no man would glance across the room and fall for me.  Even worse I knew that he wouldn't even be interested.  There had always been a hope, a small figment of my brain, that believed that someone would see me and love me.  In that moment of  profound comprehension I knew I only had my personality to rely on.  It was extremely heartbreaking to finally understand the truth of my situation, but at the same time extremely freeing.  The perceived slights from the male gender that commonly hurt me were just that "perceived". 

Being repulsive to a majority of the population has affected my behaviour.  I am very sad to have missed out on the normal interaction of human life.  I try with those that can accept me, but when it comes to the opposite sex I have absolutely no experience.  I do understand and accept that a lot of it is my fault.  It is what I beret myself with nearly everyday.  My weight has not been the only problem, it is just the easiest reason to blame for my complete lack in making Friends. I really have tried with all my intelligence to figure out my social problems.  Does this give me a low opinion of myself? Surprisingly, no.  I like who I am.  How many people do you know can say that?  Beautiful or otherwise.  I have always believed with every fiber of my being that I am a really cool person. That may sound prideful, but since I am the only one who seems to realizes it(except a select few), then I am going to say it.

I have managed to have my own failures and triumphs, despite my disadvantages.  I just am not public with such things.  I figure if you, dear reader, took the time to click on this post and read then you are interested in what I have to say.  In person I have to feel the same interest aim at me to talk and that doesn't happen very often.

I understand that we all have our disadvantages.  That has been a very hard lesson to learn.  You can see my weak spot in life, but I have come to comprehend that the most beautiful person in the world can be hampered by their beauty.  I fought to find my place in the world.  I still don't feel comfortable, but I have never hated myself.  I hate my weight, but I never felt it defined me or who I was even though I have spent my life being judged by the stereotypes of the obese.  I am judged as someone who spends there life eating, someone who has no control.  I am seen as repulsive.  That is pretty hard to overcome.

I guess I should have some sobering words about how we all must be kind and other such blah, blah, blah. That would be great if we "could all just get along", but I have looked at the reality. I understand being repulsed. I get that feeling. I don't care if you feel that way about me.  Just keep your big mouth shut!  I don't want to be reminded of something I am perfectly aware of.  And one more thing, DO TELL those people around you that they are pretty.  It helps a woman immeasurable.


This is where I started.  I want you
to know when I look at myself in the
pictures on the post.  I think I am gorgeous! 
Isn't it funny how different our perspectives can be?

Our Choices make Us who we Are

At the End of this post is the story of when I auditioned for Season 2 of Project Runway

This is the post I originally wanted to write, but when I sat down to write my thoughts I realized there was a whole lot of background that I had to share first. 

At the time, I was very upset at the choices people around me were making because as much as you hear. "It's my life.  I can do what I want."  That is just plain false.  Every decision a person makes affects someone else, even if they never know it.  So with the great 20/20 hindsight I now have, I took the time to share the highlights of a 3 year period that formed me as an adult.  Most ignored my post on Why I went on a mission, but it was important because of the timing.  If I had not waited the extra year I would have missed Cory, Dusty, seeing a baby born, Sister G and learning how to work.  I would not have decided to go back to Montana and I would most certainly have missed meeting Collins and the night that changed my heart and mind.

I went back home with a new dedication instilled in me.  I am sorry for my attitude, but People are horrible, terrible monsters that should be hidden from.  I hate people.  But I learned that the individual person can be the most special, wonderful example of love.  I was willing to accept a person on a personal level, which was a huge leap forward for me, because of my previous experiences.  That was very important to my own personal growth. 

And because of my willingness to accept others I had to learn how to accept myself, so I decided to really look at me.  I was willing to face the horrible dark reality that was myself.  I looked at situations and my interactions with others on a different level. I spent hours pondering my reactions. I tried so hard to put myself in their place and try and see the same event through their eyes.  I figured out that 9.9 times out of 10 it was a miscommunication that would hurt my feelings. I began to notice that the people I encountered on a daily bases didn't notice me at all.  They didn't care about me and when I started to realize this fact it made interacting with them a whole lot easier.  I started to see that I had a choice in how I would handle my feelings and how I would express them.  I have the choice on what I want to be surrounded by.

Choice is what separates us from the animals. We, as humans, can choose to overcome our base animal instincts. We can do more than fight or flight. We can destroy our families with the selfish choices we make or we can lift those we love with the simple choice on how we will react to a problem. I respect the ability to choose. I am so grateful for that, so grateful that I am willing to handle the consequences of a bad choice.  The simple act of choosing is an awe-inspiring gift that is so often wasted.

So, What do you do when someone else's choice screws you? 
AAhhhhhh, That's the catch, isn't it.

That is where the bad in this world comes from. That great and stupid argument for the fact that there is no God. "If there was a kind and loving God, why would he allow the suffering in the world?" Because as human beings we are allowed to choose. I bet if you point to a misery in the world, I could show you the bad choice someone made. And that is the very worst part about choice, isn't it? The freedom we have to make a real mess of everything.  I have noticed that Mankind seems to have this natural reaction to stupid choices. "Let's Ban anything that will cause harm because if everyone just did what I wanted then everyone would be safe, so I'll force them." Has that idea ever worked in the history mankind?

For myself.  I made the conscience choice to stick by my decision to find my God.  I made it a priority in my life to make that foreign concept something very important to me.  I find it so hypocritical when people seem to think my spirituality is a bestowed gift that I won in a lottery.  I have worked very, very hard to spurn those things that I knew would drag me away from my goal.  Often in church I would make a comment and hear others question me by saying,"Oh, that is because it is you. Becky.  You can do that. but I can't."  And to that attitude I say an infallible NO! I made the decision in what I would pursue and that was not money or fame.  I thought I wanted to be an actor.  I thought I wanted to be a Fashion Designer, but when I was confronted by the life, I knew that it wasn't for me.  Some family members act like I have some special powers that are impossible for them to obtain and I just shake my head in frustration.  Everyone, every person can have a stronger relationship with their Higher Power, but only if they choose it.

I have sacrificed everything to follow what I feel to be right.  I don't resent the sacrifice.  I was willing to pay the price for what I have obtained, but I do resent the fact that my sacrifice is not recognized by others.  It is very difficult to give up what you think you want.  But in doing so, I have gained the ability to take my disappointments in stride.  I still feel.  I still wish for a different ending, but because I respect the right of a person to choose, I can handle the reality of what their choice may cost me.

I don't tell people about this event in my life because I don't like having to explain my decision to others, but I feel like this is the prime example of the way I made my choices.

 I tried out for the 2nd season of Project Runway.

I had just graduated with an Associates degrees in Fashion Design and after watching the 1st season I felt like I could equal the other designers.  I didn't tell my family what I was doing.  The fact that I was willing to do such a public thing was very brave of me, but I couldn't talk about it.  Unfortunately, I didn't read through the email that was sent to me all the way through.  I missed where it said to bring 3 garments as an example of your work.  I only brought my portfolio, but I wasn't worried.  I had driven to downtown LA to go fabric shopping, so I wasn't afraid to find the hotel, but that turned out to be much harder than I thought.  This was before we had a GPS device, so I was wondering downtown LA unable to find this hip hotel because it was on a one way street.  I finally made the correct turn by accident and got ready to stand in line for the next step.  I barely made it to the sign-up before the cut off time.  They looked over my portfolio and I was accepted into the next step.  I followed a little peon into a hotel room where I was suppose to wait with about half a dozen other people, everyone shifting as thoose waiting the longest went out and new people came in.

I spent 6 hours waiting in that room and I experienced the microcosm of the Fashion industry during that time.  Every type of person that was attracted to this profession was stuffed into a small claustrophobic space and once again I found myself to be the odd man out.

There was an overabundance of gay men.  I already knew that to be the case from school.  There were some straight men, you could tell the difference because they were constantly hitting on the cute Blondie skinny girls that also seem to dominate the fashion scene.  The girls that do not know what it is like to have your looks work against you.  The girls who have never been ignored.  I did not see another "fluffy" person trying out.

I can get along with anyone for a short period of time, but it was very interesting to see first hand the type of people that were attracted to this certain line of work.  We had one extremist in the room.  The person who would do anything to get attention.  He seemed to be a nice man from my short time with him.  He had gone all out for this audition.  Just try to picture a tall lanky white man with a shaved head, sound OK, right, well he had on more make-up them most hookers.  It was beautifully done in a very tacky kind of way.  Bight blue eye shadow and dramatic black eyebrows.  I was familiar with this type of look from cross-dressers, but it was his choice of outfit that gave me dramatic pause.  He wore a black blazer that was cut like a woman's jacket, coming in at the waist.  That wouldn't have bothered me, but it was the fact he wasn't wearing any pants.  The blazer was just long enough to give the impression of nakedness underneath although he was wearing a speedo.  And to top the whole look off was a pair of shiny black stiletto heels.  He could have been the sweetest man in the world, but I wasn't getting that impression from him.  I just sat in that room wondering if I could possibly live with these people for any length of time because I knew that was a requirement of the show.

Finally we were hurried into a line outside the hall to meet with the panel of judges.  I messed up not bringing those garments and I was angry at myself for such a stupid mistake, but I tried to play it off with confidence.

I walked into the brightly light room to find 4 people sitting at a long judging table.  I recognised Tim Gunn, who is still the mentor on the show after 12 seasons.  I also recognised the runner up to the winner from the first season her name was Kara Saun.  Then there were 2 women from fashion magazines and I don't remember their names.  One was on the chunky side and I thought I may have a conspirator on my side, boy was I wrong.

They asked why I was interested in Fashion and I told them the truth.  I wanted beautiful, stylish clothes for the larger woman.  I was interested in helping everyone feel pretty.  Well you would have thought I was trying to open up a new chapter of the KKK from their reaction to my statement.  They ripped into me.  They bore their teeth and claws to tell me my idea was ridiculous.  They became personal in their attacks and I stood in front of them frozen.  I do not react well under that kind of stress.  If I felt comfortable I could explain better, but those women were not interest in what I had to say.  I knew all was lost.

Then Tim Gunn spoke up.  He liked what I said and even though he knew that I wasn't going to be called back for the show, He wrote his information on a piece of paper and asked me to get in touch with him later.  I left the interview and walked down to the relative safety of my car.  I sat down in the drivers seat with the door open to feel the twilight breeze brushing up against my sweaty forehead.  I stare at the piece of paper with Tim Gunn's info.  I replayed the day over and over in my head.  I realized I didn't want to be around any of those people ever again.  I didn't want to fight the darkness in their souls.  I didn't want to constantly have to find myself in the sea of their trashy thoughts.  I didn't want to break down any walls or become a pioneer.  I was interested in fashion for the huge power it has to make a difference in how we feel about ourselves and how we are perceive by others.

What we wear to the world demonstrates how we view ourselves.  I can tell so much about a person from their choice of clothing.  When I learned how to dress my body and present myself with grace and beauty it completely changed my view of myself.  I want that for everyone.  I want that positive blast of self confidence for every person to feel.  So why do I have to be denied that feeling because I am fat?  I also didn't agree with what the fashion industry thought was beautiful.  Too much of it is a popularity contest.  I always seem to come in last place with those competitions.

And so I made a choice, I guess at that moment, to turn away from the Fashion Industry.  I had no interest to be apart of the sinking, negative lifestyle that I saw paraded in front of me that day.  I put Tim Gunn's info in my portfolio to kept it safe and drove home in the thick LA traffic.

I thought about that little piece of paper a couple of times after my experience and this deep abiding fear overtook me.  I was terrified to even touch that paper and the feeling was so overwhelming I had to push it out of my head to even be able to breathe again.  I do wish I had email Tim Gunn.  I just came to recognise that fear to mean it wasn't a good idea for me.  I feel fear all the time.  I am in almost a constant state of fear, it seems to be my first reaction to any new idea, but I have learned to overcome the fear when it is something I need to do.  I can put it aside when I know something is right for me to do.  I could not put the fear aside when it came to that small piece of paper.

I ended up costuming shortly from there and doing that was the very best thing in the world to me.  I really thought that I would get to costume for a living, but alas, it wasn't so.  I still don't understand why that didn't happen.  I thought I did good work.

My point is that I choose what was more important to me.  After being surrounded by good honest people trying to do their very best following God and his precepts while on my mission, I just could not surround myself with the opposite.  I couldn't be around people who found their joy in fake spiritual experience.  They seemed to be so sweet and so kind, but as I got to know the people in the Entertainment & Fashion industries they became vampires, sucking away all the good I had  tried to build around me. I didn't want to leave the creativity and the beauty, but I had to for my own sanity.

 

I can't watch Project Runway.  My mother loves it and I DVR it for her, but I just can't stand the people.  I can't stand the reminder of how fast they are willing to take out the butcher knife and stab you in the back when you are not looking.  It brings up so many negative emotions in me that I just stay away.