News from the Fat Farm

One month ago today I was the fattest I’d ever been. Ever. I’ve been fat for years but this was different. I saw numbers on the scale that were more reminiscent of an NFL football player than a small town newspaper columnist. I had crossed a line and knew I had to get back to the starting blocks.
If you don’t know anything about being fat, allow me to enlighten you. Like most fat people, I have three basic levels of fatness. A month ago was my “ultra fat” phase. Even fat people realize this stage is beyond tolerable. My fattest clothes didn’t fit. Sadness and hopelessness seemed to crouch at the door with the ever-growing number on the scale. I saw pictures of myself that made the average sumo wrestler look like a fitness trainer.
Then there’s my “manageable fat” phase. This is the phase where most of my clothes fit pretty well. I know I’m still fat but I feel pretty decent about life and I can still hear the birds singing ever-so-sweetly in the trees. I’ve probably spent most of my adult life in this phase.
The third level of fatness is what I like to call my “thin fat” stage. This is when all my clothes fit loosely and my face starts to look human again. For most fat people, we consider ourselves absolutely thin during this stage, even though we’re still fat. But don’t blame us for taking that position. Friends and family are the ones to blame for making us feel like runway models when we’re still chubby.
Here’s how this all goes down. When I get to my “thin fat” stage, my friends say really confusing things like, “Who let the runway model in the door?” “Girl, look at you! You’re gonna dry up and blow away.”
This leads the person of average intelligence to one very clear conclusion. If you want people to call you “skinny” when you’re not really “skinny,” you have to get really fat first. I have been amazed at how this works.  
Let’s say I’m at my “thin fat” stage and I go to a local women’s event. All my thin friends are there. Some of them have been thin their whole lives and yet not ONE person in the room calls them, “skinny.” Ever. My thin friends walk in the door and they’re greeted normally. “Hey Sarah, how’s it going?” “Hey Cindy, glad you could make it.” Now here’s where things get interesting. I can walk in right after Sarah and Cindy. I might be the fattest woman at this event. But what do my friends say? Prepare to be amazed. They say, “Look at Skinny Minnie walking in the door! Girl, you look great! You’re so skinny!” I know. Life is strange.
If you’ve been reading my column for eight years, you know this is not the first time I have made confessions about my struggle with weight. I would love to say it will be the last. But I make no promises. I do know I’m not giving up hope. I don’t want you to give up hope either. I’ve lost 15 pounds in the last month and I’m working out every day. The birds are once again singing sweetly in the trees. My name is Lisa and I’m on a path to something far better than “skinny.” I’m on a path to good health.
For more information about Lisa Smartt, visit her website, lisasmartt.com.

Published in The Messenger 10.03.12

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