
Rozanne Paxman
The Pig on the Refrigerator
"OINK! OINK!" the door of the refrigerator reprimanded. "Do not open the door, fatso."
I pulled back my hand and pretended that I was not in the room. "Go ahead," Paula said. "It won't hurt you."
I shook my head. I did not want the pig to oink at me again. "What is that?" I asked.
"My mother belongs to a new weight group. They meet once a week and get weighed in. They gave her the pig to help remind her not to get in the refrigerator."
I shuddered. "Everybody knows how much you weigh?"
Paula nodded. "Yes. They get weighed, they talk about it, then they go home and eat diet foods."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Dry toast. Carrot and celery sticks. Grapefruit. Stuff like that."
I shuddered with guilt. "I'm fat. I should be on a diet. I need a pig on my refrigerator."
Waves of humiliation washed over me. "I can't do that," I thought. "Everybody will see it. I'd be too embarrassed."
My stomach clenched as I thought of existing on carrot and celery sticks. "I can't do that," I told myself. "I just can't. I guess I'm doomed."
My face flamed as I thought of standing on a scale in front of a crowd. I could practically feel their accusatory eyes staring at me as they chanted, "Fatso. Fatso. Fatso."
"Nope. No group meetings for me," I firmly decided. "I'll have to figure this out on my own."
"If that's what dieting is," I thought, "I'm out. I'm not strong enough to suffer like Paula's mom. Dieting is embarrassing. Dieting is humiliating. Dieting is torture. Nope. No group meetings for me. I'll have to figure this out on my own."
I was only ten years old. My body was being worked over by early pubescence. As I sprouted in places my peers wouldn't sprout for years, I felt increasingly more uncomfortable with myself. I began to believe what my peers told me: I was a fat girl.
It is only in hindsight that I am able to see that I was a tiny, petite girl. I remained that way until years of hormone replacement therapy, a bad diet, and an inactive lifestyle caught up with me.
I had become what I always thought I was: overweight.
I found myself in 2009. I learned to stick up for myself. I learned to do things I enjoy. I learned to express myself. I quit comparing myself to other people. It was the year I started to be who I am meant to be.
My goal for 2010 is to become comfortable with my body. I want this to be the year that I figure out how to eat healthy food without feeling tortured. I want this to be the year that I admit my sugar addiction and give it up. I want this to be the year that I discover I enjoy moving. I want this to be the year that I stop feeling guilty if I take time to move.
Changing ourselves is a process. But it is possible and 2009 taught me that. Here's to the journey of 2010. We're all on it, no matter what we think. We might as well do something positive while we travel.
If you'd like to share your particular journey with us, come on out to the Scrap Girls forum. You'll find lots of supporters to help you along the way.
- Ro

Muse: To be absorbed in one's thoughts; engage in meditation. Not intended to solve the world's problems, another person's problems, or to cover topics completely. One does not have to agree with musings to enjoy them, just as one does not have to be the same as someone else to appreciate who they are.
Would you like to earn a $20 Gift Certificate? Send your own muse to [email protected]. If it is selected for publication in the Scrap Girls newsletter, you'll get to have fun shopping!
|