Painful Confessions of a Former Fat Girl or How a Mechanical Bull, Colby Donaldson and a Radio DJ Made Me Cry in a Bathroom Stall

Once upon a time, I was what some would politely call a "big girl," others would not so delicately call a "fat chick" and still others would use terms I'd rather not repeat just because they are far too cruel.  As a big girl, I developed the tried-and-true strongest possible form of armor in a world that judges you largely based on appearance - the great personality!  I was the funny girl, the super friend always armed with a smile, a good joke, a non-threatening demeanor and, of course, a self-deprecating sense of humor which often came in quite handy.   Reminders of this past life came vividly flooding back while listening to Bob & the Showgram (a popular morning show here in NC) this morning as its host joked about how every wedding party features a fat girl.  Yep, I've been there- the fat bridesmaid in a wedding party. Har, har. Isn't that a hoot?

And then a gem of a memory came to mind featuring this same DJ that took place years and years ago at a popular bar in Raleigh.  At the time, Survivor: Australia was all the rage and one of the cast members, Colby Donaldson was set to appear courtesy of the radio station at said bar.  Back then, I was in my mid-twenties, single and had a raging girl-crush on Colby.  So, of course, I was SO there!  When it was announced that one lucky gal present could walk Colby out on the stage, I (along with several hundred other ladies with raging girl crushes on Colby) began jumping up and down with excitement.  The winner of this honor would have to earn her spot by staying on the bar's mechanical bull for the longest amount of time- and, of course, they could only take a few contestants to try for the honor.

Being in a heightened state of fever-pitch excitement and already poorly proficient at math, I failed to realize the mathematical probability of humiliation and so immediately raised my hand and started screaming, "ME! ME! ME!"  Why the mathematical probability of humilation? Let's see- the mechanical bull was about ten feet tall and would undoubtedly require a huge boost from the staff member manning the bull.  I probably outweighed him by at least 110 pounds.   Surprisingly, the person responsible for picking contestants apparently had the same crappy math skills as I and picked me as one of the 3 girls competing. Do you see what's coming???

I tried my darndest to climb aboard that bull myself, as I was afraid of hurting the poor schlep who was responsible for the mechanical bull.  I finally asked for his help after half a dozen attempts.  It was incredibly awkward having him gamely try to boost me up several times- to no avail.  I could see Bob Dumas, the DJ from the  Showgram, looking frustrated out of the corner of my eye and I could swear he gave the director's sign for cut.   So, I was quickly eliminated from the competition and non-ceremoniously told to scoot to make room for the slender brunette waiting in the wings for her turn.

Walking back to my group of friends, I could see a few women in the crowd snickering or trying not to make eye contact with me.  I was completely and utterly humiliated, on the verge of tears even but being that great super-happy-galpal, I forced them back and put on a smile.  I think I may have even made some joke about it and then made a funny little pout before I announced I had to go to the restroom.  So I waited until I was safely in a bathroom stall and then let the tears flow freely- doing my best to stay as silent as I could.

I'm a noisy crier, so this was difficult and involved a lot of lip biting on my part. There were two reasons I tended not to seek comfort from others when really, really upset:  (1) I am an ugly crier.  My face gets so red, blotchy and distorted, it's downright scary! Who wants to subject anyone to that? and (2) I didn't want to wreck the carefully crafted "hey, I'm super funny and nothing really bothers me" persona.  It was bad enough being the "fat friend."  I didn't want to appear as the depressed, socially anxious "fat friend" because, hey, before you know it,  I could become the "fat chick who stays home with her cats and eats ice cream all day who has no friends."

The second reason, I now know, is ridiculous for when you have true friends, they will actually want to comfort you- to bring you out of that funk.  Not because they need you to entertain them, but because they genuinely care about you.  I wish I could go back in time and tell that to myself, for it would have saved me a lot of time crying alone over such stupid things as snickers from strangers. 

Hold your head up high ladies and gents- even when being denied the chance to ride a giant mechanical bull to win your chance at escorting a celebrity to the stage at a dive bar.   And never be afraid to seek shelter from life's storms with your family and friends.  Even if you're the funny fat girl.  Big girls do cry and they need a shoulder to cry on.  Take that Frankie Valley and Bob Dumas.