Dear Donald Trump, from a Fat Girl…
I want to hate you. I want to be mean to you and to make you feel like I do when you make fun of girls that look a heck of a lot smaller than me.
What happened to you to make you hate fat women so much? It makes me wonder if you actually LOVE fat women, but you don’t think you should so you can maintain your “image” of a playboy. And playboys only like tall, skinny, plastic surgeried ladies, right?
Your behavior reminds me of a kid from my neighborhood. In middle school, during that terrible time for all children when we are awkward and pimply and things are growing on our bodies in ways we can’t even comprehend, I was plump. Fat, even. I have always had a good sense of humor about my fatness, so I was the first one to use self-deprecating humor and call myself out for my fatty ways. I beat most kids to the punch, so there wasn’t much to make fun of me for. I was as happy as an introverted, boy-crazy girl could be at 14.
But my walk home from school was anything but happy. Jamie Ancel lived a block or so away from me, and he would follow me on my walk home and throw snowballs at me and call me names like “pig”, “fatty-fatty two-by-four” (which never made a lot of sense to me…have you seen a two-by-four?) This went on for a few weeks and I tried changing the times I left school, getting a ride from someone older, or making sure he didn’t get behind me so I could keep an eye on him. I even tried throwing snowballs back at him, but one thing I am not known for is my athleticism, and I was outmatched. Jamie was a big kid, and he could throw harder and farther than I could. Jamie was also a fat kid…so it was so confusing why he would call me names like that when he himself obviously had the same “affliction”.
Finally, I had enough. My normal tactics weren’t working and I was sick of it. I begged my mom to pick me up after school and when she asked why, I told her. Jamie was making my life miserable.
We talked about what was happening and how I felt about it. I was scared and annoyed. I felt powerless and too big at the same time. I wanted Jamie to stop picking on me. And I HATED Jamie. I wanted to hurt Jamie. I wanted him to feel what I felt. He was mean and I wanted to stuff snowballs down his pants until he screamed for mercy.
My mom told me that bullies pick on people because they feel small, and they need to feel big. They are hurting inside, and often times they act out because they need attention and love. Jamie and his family were very poor, and his parent’s fights could be heard throughout the entire neighborhood. He was probably a very sad person and picking on me made him feel better somehow.
I was stunned. I had a soft spot for sad kids and stray animals and my mom’s talk tugged at my heart-strings. I didn’t want Jamie to be sad anymore. I remember sitting in my room thinking about this. I decided that the next time it happened, I would do something different.
A few days later, Jamie followed me home, taunting me and throwing icy snowballs. Instead of hanging my head in shame and walking as quickly as my thick thighs would take me, I turned around and walked right up to Jamie.
“Jamie, I think you are a nice person inside and it makes me sad that you have to pick on me to feel better about yourself. I would like to be your friend if you would let me. I do not want you to be sad anymore, and I want you to stop picking on me.” I said quietly, looking into Jamie’s stunned face.
Jamie stuttered, “I’m not sad!” and ran all the home. I can still remember the sound of his front door slamming.
That day changed everything for me. Jamie and I did not become friends, but he never picked on me again. I learned that empathy and understanding trump hate, fear, frustration, and sadness. Compassion allowed me to let go of the anger and hate I had for Jamie. And I never really thought about Jamie again until this election.
Now, back to you, Mr. Trump. I listen to your rhetoric and hate speech and I feel so sad for you. And right there is that same hate I had for Jamie. I hate that you make women feel powerless, small, and too much of anything. I hate that you are willing to reduce us to a size or a body type. I hate that you’ve made other women feel worthless. I hate that you’ve made me wonder if little girls are developing eating disorders because of your terrible rhetoric.
And then I remember my conversation with my mom about Jamie.
What happened to you to make you this way? Did you not get enough love as a child? Did your parents fight and you learned that this is the only way to live in the world? And why the intense disdain for fat people when you yourself would be considered obese by any medical standard?
I wonder, have you ever had a real friend or do all of the people in your life stay close to you…no matter what you say or do…because you have money?
I’ve never had to worry about that particular issue. I know there are people in my life love me for exactly who I am, not what I can provide for them materially. I have people in my life that make me do things I don’t always think I can do. I never have to wonder if I am loved or cared for.
And I am fat. Can you believe that? I’ve built an amazing, happy life being a fat, middle-incomed woman. Unbelievable. Huge. Amazing. The best. Bigly. Bad Hombres. Oh, wait, I digress.
What can you say for yourself? How has being a mean, unhappy, sad, egotistical tyrant made your life? I can imagine you are surrounded by beautiful things….but do you have to pay people to surround you? What will happen to you if you lose all your fame and wealth?
This makes me sad for you. And I want to tell you what I told Jamie all those years ago, “I want you to stop picking on other people to make yourself feel big.”
And when you lose the election, It would be great if you’d get some therapy to deal with whatever happened to you to make so insecure and why you need to strike out at others to make yourself feel better. And maybe, if your marriage to Melania doesn’t survive, I’d so encourage you to to date a girl with a few more curves and stop fighting your obvious attraction. That is, if you can find one that is willing to overlook your past belittling, mean-spirited ways.
And after this election, I’m going to go back to never thinking about you and your sad life again.