MELT OFF

Hey Humans,

First of all…thank you SO MUCH for reading along, for writing me about what you read…and subscribing to How VERY Dare She.
Fuck, I love that title…like a lot…like a lot, a lot.
I love this short form writing for joy…for pure joy…it is one of my longtime loves, that I let go of for a while…and I’m very happy to have it back.
But sometimes the joy is in the writing…and not in the subject…kinda like today.

I’ve been bashing the following thoughts around for a very long time…
…while sitting alone in my apartment, riding my bike, walking down the street, laying in my bed…so everywhere one can go right now, really.
And I have not written them down because I was afraid.
I was afraid of what people would say…and think.
FYI, this post is NOT totally about size…but it starts there…this post is about truths, by way of size…and melt-offs.

Yesterday, I went on the FACEBOOK…a place I almost dare not go anymore, because I’m trying not to let bullshit live in my brain rent free…and I had a bit of a melt off.
No, not down…this was not a melt down…this was a moment where a bunch of psychological ice melted off of me, and I saw/felt my feelings very clearly.
MELT OFF.
I’d written a twitter post…another place I strive to stay away from, as much as possible…about the way people use a human’s size to demean them…the post was this:

Seriously, I know..sometimes, you guys, it feels like all I do is write about size inclusivity…and size normalization…ALL. And I’m sure it feels the same way to some people who read what I write…but, I cannot stop writing about it until IT stops…which I hope will be before I die at the ripe and sexy age of 100.
Anyway, there was someone who (mistakenly, it turns out…but this mistake helped my MELT OFF…so I am thankful for it) read the above post, then seemed to fight to able to say words like “fat” or “fattie”…and it just…it sent me.
Just sent me once and for all, like a rocket to the moon…and the melt off began.
I read the comments underneath my post..and felt a stunning clarity.
I realized that I didn’t want to have to KEEP laughing at people’s stupid fat jokes anymore…or be kind to people who were obviously (if the are making any kind of derogatory comment about someone’s weight, shape or size) NOT being kind to me…or listening to someone in a ZOOM call talk about how someone in their life lost weight and it was about time (this happened to me two months ago and I was too weary to fight back), like any body that wasn’t their own, was ANY of their business.
Anyway…all of this…all of these thoughts? Helped me melt all that shit off…and I said the following:

RE: Tubby, Fatass, Fattie or any other label you might put on him.

PS: Because it seems to be an issue…I wrote this because whenever people want to really hit him hard (or anyone they wanna take down) and make him appear truly asshole-ish…they start to attack his size and/or shape.
I saw it five times today.
The three words above were used.
If that is not fat shaming? I don’t know what is.
And frankly?
If you are fighting to use words like this? You can unfollow me.
In fact? I wish you would.
Enough.
I have truly and OFFICIALLY had enough.
Until you feel what it’s like to live a lifetime of laughing off other people’s fat jokes…or having people telling you how beautiful you are, if you could only lose weight…or making you feel other or unworthy because you are big…being asked by directors who are large themselves, to lose weight for a part where it doesn’t really matter>>>READ: MOST PARTS…down to the stigma of feeling like you will never be truly successful until you are a size that is “acceptable” (this is my fight, and I fight it with both fists)…you will NEVER know how damaging it is…or how limiting it is to MANY MANY MANY HUGELY talented people.
I AM OFFICIALLY NOT TAKING IT ANYMORE.
OR LAUGHING WITH YOU, and THEREFORE LAUGHING AT MYSELF.
This is the positivity train…we don’t stop in shitsville.
JUMP on or move along.
Do your research and be better.
Enough. x INFINITY.

After I wrote it down and posted it, I was charged…and changed.
Why THE FUCK had I waited so long to say that?
Why did I want ANYONE in my life who would fight for the right to use a word that offends billions of people? BILLIONS.
OR anyone who would try and force me to get on THEIR road, while totally disregarding my own.
I have said this a million times…MY HAPPINESS DOESN’T LOOK LIKE YOURS.
Why did I wait???
Because I was afraid.
Afraid of what?
Of acknowledging that my present weight is not a place I stopped at for a while…but a place I have been living and thriving in/at.
That I actually like where I am at…that thoughts of unworthiness still plague me…but I fight, as mentioned above…with both fists.
I am endevouring to FINALLY let my body find it’s own sweet spot…something that will take a while, I think (mind and body)…but I am here for it.
I was ALSO afraid of what people might think of me…something I am working fucking hard to let go of.

I just got hired to do a TV project…info to follow…everything on the TV is SO secret, right?..and it’s the first time I’ve not run to the cupboard to do smoothie’s once or twice a day before shooting starts.
I never did it with Frankie…because my form was an integral part of Flo (for me, anyhow)… but as I move on to new things, the old habits and worries come back.
Rounder people in the entertainment industry are not plentiful in front the camera…and we stick out like sore thumbs…so, I have to remind myself who I am, EVERY time I go onto a new set.
I don’t remind myself to fill myself with hubris…I remind myself of my confidence…and my joy…and well, just of me…who I dig. I dig me.
What a thing this business is…and I love it mightily…but it’s complicated…and I am trying to make it simpler for myself.
THIS MELT OFF will truly help me stay away from the protein smoothie machine (blender) more than once a day…and it made me realize that I am going to work next week (after a COVID TEST) exactly as I am.

Then yesterday, as I rode my bike, bathing in my righteous indignation about people wanting to use hateful speech anyway they want, because they always have used it, and don’t want to let their minimizations go, for whatever small reason they might have…a totally unrelated subject rolled through my head…and I thought, is it now?
Is now the time to say something?
And then I thought about it for the rest of the day till, well…till right now.

Why do women who have been cheated on, fear telling their stories?
I know, a totally different thought…BUT when I think about keeping my mouth shut while people around me made fun of other people who were shaped like me…for years…the feeling I had and have when I think of fear of talking, is the exact same size, darkness, shape, and muzzle size as the subject of my body shaming melt off.
Don’t say anything, Sharron…what will people say?
MELT OFF number two.
Why do women feel the need…even years later…to not share what happened to them?
Why do they/we mentally look around, when someone asks about betrayal, to see if anyone is watching or listening?
Some of you are going to log off now…and that’s totally fine…it’s an uncomfortable subject…to write about… to read about…to talk about…and I get it.
It’s almost a taboo.
To be fair…sometimes, it’s just not everyone’s business…BUT if you feel like telling your story, a story that is YOURS, we should feel some kind of agency to tell it…but somehow, we mostly don’t.
Why?
After A LOT OF thought, it’s a crunchy four parter, for me.

Part ONE:
When you are going through something like a messy separation and divorce, you (A) keep your mouth shut to get to the end of the event, in some semblance of sanity and peace…seriously…and (B) are encouraged by most people to take the HIGH ROAD and not say anything. Also, seriously. A good portion of humanity tells you to keep your business to yourself in a way that makes you think that your business should be a secret OR, even worse, shameful. Like it was your fault.
Then you start to feel like if you tell people what happened, you are inferring that there is something about YOU that made it happen.
And (C), people simply don’t want to hear it.
Even if they ask, if you get to a point of truth they cannot absorb, you can see it making them uncomfortable.
So, we change the subject…and usually talk about how great we are doing, instead…even if we aren’t.
It’s a real vicious cycle or circle…whichever is right, I don’t feel like looking it up right now.

Part TWO:
Even after being cheated on, even after all the disaster and long term damage it entails, even after going through an entire separation and divorce…we feel this fucked up need to protect the person who did it…the person we spent part of our life with. It’s uncanny, really. It’s wrapped in our brain stem to not dish on the person who we stood at the altar with, even when they fuck us over.

Part THREE:
When you talk about it, people call you crazy. And it sucks. People call you vindictive. Which also sucks. “Look at her, she can’t move on.” Well, honestly? It’s hard to heal, if you are protecting someone else’s truth…and sacrificing your own. No one wants to feel like they were the one who couldn’t let go…which is how it gets framed, when you decide to say how you feel out loud. Not all the time, but a lot of it, in my experience. And, believe me, most of us DEARLY want to let go…and are working like dogs to move on. Dogs.

Part FOUR:
And this is the strongest part.  FEAR.  We are afraid. Afraid of repercussions. Afraid of what people will think or say (which is part of all parts, really). We are simply, afraid.
Laying down, being quiet, and/or tucking it away, just seems easier.
And I judge no one who doesn’t feel like sharing their story…I get it…and I celebrate you, too.
But this story gets woven into our life…it’s ALREADY woven into our life…and we should not be afraid to give it air, if we feel so inclined.

WE should not be afraid to tell our tale.
There will be an equal reaction, I am sure…which is PART FIVE, really…but you know what? I won’t look for it.
Everyone has their own story to tell…and that is just what it is. That is life.
I like to stick to my ownside of the road.
But I WILL write about the edges of my life.
I’m not here to malign anyone…I just want to let what happened to me take its rightful place in the way it’s coloured my life. And it has.

And I write this because I have met MANY people, since the end of my marriage, who are bleeding.
They are just leaking blood everywhere, trying to keep their shit together and their mouths shut…feeling like their stories aren’t theirs to tell.
Well, they are.

Our bodies are ours to love and our stories are ours to tell…and I think that by honouring both, our spirits will soar.
Maybe not right away, let’s be honest here…there will ALWAYS be push back…but soon…and thoroughly.

So, I will push the PUBLISH button on this with no small amount of consideration.
But push it, I will. Breathe in. And push it.

Namasté

S.M. May 14th, 2021

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