Ramblings of Sonya: Fat Chick, Skinny Chick

Well, a bit more about me. My name is Sonya, and as a little girl I hated my name. I always wanted to be a "Mary"...something normal sounding (not that all Marys are normal by any stretch of the imagination). But as I got older, I actually started to like my name. I now think it sounds exotic. If nothing else it's memorable, especially in a world filled with other names that are a dime a dozen.

Truth be told, I'm not your average woman, nor was I your average girl. I never seemed to quite fit in. Believe it or not, I used to be quiet and shy....rather book wormish. I think part of this had to do with the fact that from about age nine on, I was overweight. Therefore, clothes that looked good on the other girls always made me look a bit strange. Of course, it didn't help that my mother had most of my clothes handmade by a neighbor. Sometimes this worked out and sometimes it didn't. I remember one time my mother wanted the lady to make me a pantsuit....(a real fashion statement for a young teenager). Well, I complained so my mother picked out this supposedly hip material. It was these huge brown and black swirls on a white background. And to make it even hipper, she made the pantsuit a bell bottom pantsuit. Okay, I admit it. At first I kind of thought the outfit was cool. At least it wasn't the usual polyester nightmare. But when I put it on, and looked in the mirror, the first thought that came into my mind was, "Man, they will see you coming from a mile away." And this isn't a good thought for a girl who is already overweight, trying to hide in the shadows. But I knew better than to NOT wear it. So I did, and I got laughed at and stared at and whispered about. That was the first and last time I wore it. And I made a vow to lose weight.

Losing weight isn't easy when you have a mother who loves you with food. "Have another helping, Sonya." Or else she would lay the guilt trip on me. "You don't like my cooking?" as huge tears would well up in her eyes. Plus every day she gave me candy, chip, and soda money to stop at the store on the way home from school. And by this time, food was my comfort, my so-called friend. So like a druggie, I would use the money for my daily "fix"

Aside from the fact that she loved me with food, she would never admit that I was fat.

"Oh, Dear....you aren't fat. You're just big boned" or "Sonya, at least your fat is solid and not wiggly."

And then, my favorite: "Sonya, it's just baby fat dear. You will grow out of it." Of course, when she told me this I was twenty-two years old!

So weight is a problem with my exotic named self. Oh yes...I have the big boobs that go with exotic fatness. And I suppose those have been my one redeeming feature at times. Its amazing what guys will put up with for some nice big boobs. And it's also amazing how when you are talking to guys, they don't talk to your face. They speak directly into your boobs as if there is a hidden microphone in there or something. I can't think of how many times I've wanted to say, "Hellooo? I'm up here Dear. They won't talk to you, believe me.....no matter how much you talk to them."

But weight is a problem for lots of us ladies. Am I right? We either worry we are too fat or too thin. We obsess about it. Some of us obsess ourselves into anorexia or bulimia. Some of us just obsess ourselves into an outright food addiction. And it's a revolving cycle. The more we obsess, the more weight we usually gain. We go on exercise and starvation binges the way we go on food binges. And by the time we're through we have totally screwed up our metabolism, resulting in gaining even more weight than we set out to lose to begin with.

We skip medical appointments because we don't want to hear for the thousandth time that we are "fat". "Oh really? Are you serious? I didn't know. I thought I was a skinny chick"...(or a skinny bitch as I am more prone to call such a person.) I know. That's bad and reverse discrimination. But do you have any idea how infuriating it is to hear a 110 pound bit of bones talking about how she has to meet with her personal trainer to work off that last five pounds? It makes me want to scream! Especially when she gives me that look that says, "Don't you wish you were me?"

Oh, and another thing that infuriates me are the men who are "closet" fatty lovers. They prefer a woman with some meat on her bones, but they would never dare admit it to any of their friends. They are perfectly willing to take you to bed and screw your brains out, but don't dare take you for a nice dinner or to a movie.

Anyway, ladies, enough of my ranting for today. I may have to come back to this topic. I'm a bit passionate about it. Can you tell? Almost as passionate as I am about chocolate and sex....but not necessarily in that order.