Being Fat

I’ve been fat my whole life, with my weight fluctuating within a reliable four-size range throughout my adulthood. One of my earliest memories of “experiencing fatness” was at age 9, wanting to shop at The Children’s Store, and my mother gently explaining this was not a possibility.

When I was in my 30s, I worked as a producer at Discovery Channel. I was working hard, trying to get ahead while dealing with everything life threw at me. All while doing this in my fat body.

I worked with some fantastic people, including executives in the Global Majority. I went out to lunch with one, and we talked about what it was like working in media. We swapped stories, each one more outrageous than the last. As you can imagine, television is filled with cringe tales.

As I wrapped up a story about overhearing yet another negative comment made about my body, my colleague remarked: “You know, Shannon, I didn’t think anyone had it as hard in this business as a black person. But then I see how you’re treated when you walk into a room. And wow.”

We laughed to ease the moment, but inwardly, my heart sank.

It was an uncomfortable - and - true bonding moment.

I saw firsthand how my BIPOC colleagues were negatively treated, both overtly and unconsciously. I saw over and over again stereotypes unjustifiably placed on them. It infuriated me. I’ve never taken for granted the privilege I have as a white woman. Even my outrage is part of my privilege–I can express my anger with few consequences. My BIPOC colleagues, for the most part, can not.

Little did I know that they were looking at me, witnessing similar behavior, and knowing it was because of my weight.

By the way, employees can still be fired for being overweight in the United States. In 2024, there’s no clear law against it. The explanation usually falls in line with health issues and financial liabilities. I raise an eyebrow at this logic since I’ve known quite a few colleagues–all physically thin—struck down with a debilitating and/or terminal illness. It seems like a Gattaca-esque slippery slope.

I’ve experienced weight discrimination my whole life. Teachers assumed I was a bully when, in fact, I was sticking up for myself. I once was sent to the principal’s office because a thin girl who was bullying me pretended to fall and hurt herself, claiming I pushed her. Nobody believed she was the instigator. I was called hurtful nicknames and taunted. It still resonates. I wince when someone makes a cute pun with my name. (The only one I approve of is Shannanigan.)

As I reached adulthood, I started experiencing open shunning, as if I had hearing loss. I gave up on going to happy hours because random men would say out loud how I was not worthy of them as I walked around…men I wasn’t even interacting with or had any interest in!

One of my most painful memories took place at a Baltimore Orioles game. My pal and I were watching a game and for two innings, some dudes mocked the guy sitting next to me because “what hell it must be to sit next to a fat chick.”

I tried my best to ignore it, eventually cracking.

“Do you think I’m deaf, too?” I yelled. They sat there dumbstruck. I got up and left.

It wears you down being in a body like mine (even when you love and appreciate it). You do everything you can to fit in. You strategically find ways to make yourself small. You wear black a lot. If you’re walking down a sidewalk, you always move to the side because you don’t want to be viewed as “taking up the whole walkway.” You avoid parties and gatherings where strangers may be (and also your next career opportunity). You don’t fight every fight because you’re afraid you’ll totally lose it or you’re exhausted or, remembering your childhood, you won’t be believed.

So when my lunch colleague noted he had seen some of the treatment I had received, my heart sank because I had hoped that my professional skills would outshine my plus-sized wardrobe. Perhaps it had a little bit. I don’t think the lazy stereotype has ever been applied to me when it comes to work. But it wasn’t enough. I was still “the fat woman” and the assumptions that came with it.

Now, if I were developing this story into a pitch, here is the logline: She faced their abuse and took control of her life. Now a fitness guru and ultramarathoner, she’s the boss and shows them all her sparkle.

Satisfying twist, eh? We always want the fat person to get thin. (The Biggest Loser ran for 18 seasons.)

Over the next couple of years in my media career, I kept doing my best, and slowly, over time, I stopped caring about all the comments. I can wear colorful clothes cause who cares?!? I am all the colors of the rainbow and more. (Extra credit if you recognize the movie quote.) Bros always bro-down at baseball games, so who cares?!? I know a lot more about baseball than those twats do. I may not look like some people’s image of a power player, but who cares?!? Do I want to do business with those folks anyhow? Hell no. I want to work with people who respect my talents and want to create something fabulous together. Last time I checked, Spanx is not necessary to be creative.

I still avoid happy hours, and my friends know I rarely come out for parties. But now it’s less about the fear of harassment and more about being comfortable with my introverted self and my life with an equally introverted partner. My weight still fluctuates; anyone with “a weight problem”  knows it’s a more significant issue than calories in and calories out. (And fat bias will want you to believe it’s an actual problem to begin with.)

I still notice some looks when I walk into a conference room. But I no longer try to be small. I just be me.

In 2022, I was nominated for an Emmy, and, with very strict COVID protocols, I attended the award ceremony. I fretted about everything: hair, makeup, shoes, undergarments (SPANX!), and jewelry. I was sure about one thing, though. I was going to wear the sparkliest dress I could find. No little black dress for me. No hiding.

I succeeded. It matched the statue perfectly.