Chapter One; Or, Tongue-in-Cheek

I'm smart - a straight A student my whole life -, friendly, well-read, fairly creative and artistic, and have been known to have the occasional moment of witty genius, and I'm fat. Not morbidly obese like those hapless people you see on extreme makeover shows, but my chances of becoming any kind of model other than the plus-sized variety are impossible at best. You see, I was unfortunate enough to inherit the MacNeil genes in regard to my size. The MacNeil family is descendant from a clan from the brutal Scottish north and as such have a habit of producing tall, burly, strong men that, at least in the old days, chose similar women with whom to mate. After many years of this pattern, it came as no surprise when Shirley MacNeil produced four such Viking-esque children that grew to be men that averaged 6' 4" and 250 lbs. The second youngest of these offspring happens to be my father. And while he broke with the tradition and married a petite (at least by comparison) woman, my father ended up having three tall, strong sons. Oh, and me.

You see, rather than having the good sense to give me the Stranz family genes, which happen to be much slimmer and more suited to a female, God decided to saddle me with the MacNeil genes. Which mean I'm 5' 10" and have been struggling with being overweight since I was 10. Because, as everyone subconsciously knows, it's ok for boys to be heavier - they can play football, rugby or wrestle and are valued for their size. But a girl who's heavy? Yikes. There's no place for her.

Now, it's probably not fair for me to blame all of my weight issues on a poor choice by His Holiness when I was in the womb. I've always had a good appetite and an early discovery of my fondness for sweets and their power to solve all problems most definitely contributed to the crisis in which I currently find myself. All I'm saying is this: if He had seen fit to bless me with the slender figure and high metabolism of the Stranz clan, I doubt I'd be the disaster that I am.

Angst

Thoughts at 12:22 a.m.:

Since when did weight have anything to do with beauty? Why is it that how much you weigh is directly proportional to how attractive other people find you? It seems to be that as long as you are thin enough to be right on the cusp of being dangerously skinny, you're attractive. And the further you are from that precarious point, the more extra pounds you carry on your frame, the less beautiful you become. But why?

Maybe it's naive of me, but I though someone's beauty had more to do with their personality. That beauty meant empathy. Being attractive meant being compassionate, loving. I was under the impression that generosity, kindness, and a genuine nature mattered more than body fat percentages and clothing sizes. How silly of me.

It has never been more clear to me than this summer that beauty is dependent on weight.I've gained a substantial amount of weight recently, presumably because of my under-active thyroid and the depression that resulted as a side effect. And while I've never considered myself to be much of a beauty, I've noticed quite a change in the way I'm treated by people, strangers and friends alike. Men no longer look at me, their eyes sliding from my wide hips to the trim figures of my two best friends. I didn't often get many second glances, but I was at least considered in the days when I weighed less. There was a time when fellow young women would admire my hair from afar or perhaps steal an appreciative glance at my outfit. These days, I'm fortunate to get a small smile. At least I'm not as fat as her. Even my friends have stopped giving me the occasional compliment, The "your hair looks nice" or "I like your makeup" or even "what a cute outfit" days are long gone. But a mere memory from the happier, skinnier days.

Even though when I'm taking the measure of a man, I look for honesty and conversation skills and pass up the gorgeous-but-arrogant ones, I've begun to realize the rest of the world views things differently. So I guess I have to hit the gym and forget the ice cream or never be "beautiful" again.

Perhaps I'm as bad as everyone simply for noticing these things.