I was trying to think about what I could write here, and all I can come up with is…fat fat fat fat fat fat FAT FAT FAT fat. I’m obese. I’m huge. I’m not one of those girls that people say “You’re not really fat, though.”

People on the street feel free to tell me I’m fat. It’s the strangest thing. Do they think I haven’t noticed my own body? Or that I’ve never noticed guys following me and telling me I’m a cow? Never noticed guys oinking at me from a car?

I once had a man follow me, at night, for about two blocks. He spent the entire time telling me that my weight meant I should die, that I was unfit to be seen. He told me I was a burden to people, “costing everyone insurance money” (never mind the fact that I didn’t have insurance).

Two weeks ago I was on the street, and a black guy in a car with his friends shouted at me that I was a cow, and everyone in the car laughed. One of them “offered” to fuck me if I paid them before the traffic lights turned. Then they drove off. This wasn’t even late at night after drinking. It was 3 in the afternoon on Tuesday on the biggest street in Boston.

Or at a bar: “The only way a fattie like you will get laid is if you’re raped.”

I avoid going out. If I do go out, I make sure that I’m accompanied, because people are less likely to abuse me.

It’s somehow ok to say these things to a fat woman. She can be dressed up, active, feel good about herself, having a great time. But then you can destroy all of that so easily that she’ll spend the night crying in the bathroom. Have another beer, buddy.

Some days it’s all I am, even in my own head. It’s all anyone sees about me, right?

…fat.