Dear Stranger,
Hello again, it’s nice to officially meet you. You most likely don’t remember me but I remember you. I’m not sure how much you drank tonight but all I hope is that you make it home safe. You didn’t seem to be in the best state of mind since your stride looked more like a scribble than a straight line. Now let’s just straighten some things out while we’re here, shall we? I’m pretty sure I am never going to see you again and you most likely will never see me again. So with that said I just want to say that I forgive you. I forgive your siren-like voice slurring those words across your lips that you assumed would have had the same bite as the whiskey you consumed tonight. And at first it did, but the thing that you didn’t realize was that I had already heard those words spoken to me a thousand times before. So your little piece in that burning history book lasted no longer than a lightning strike. Stranger, you are one of the many who has said those words to me in hopes of increasing their chances of going to bed happier tonight. In hopes of instantly becoming more manly while strolling along with their buddies who acted like crutches for reinforcement when the silence fell after they pulled the trigger. Unfortunately unlike before, your shot was a waste. Your gunshot to my heart was bitterly rejected by my skin. How come, you may ask?
My skin is a bulletproof vest that was created for combat after countless reconstructions of it from blows in the past. Back when I was more fragile, when I was lonely and when I didn’t realize my self-worth. But now, my heart is protected with fibers strong enough to withstand your blows and send them right back at you. Stranger, if you can remember, I did not respond to your remarks that night. I stayed silent and continued walking while you reloaded and fired your gun with more ammo. Do you know why my body didn’t collapse, why the fire inside me did not come out and burn you alive? It wasn’t because I couldn’t have fired back blows just as hard as yours nor was it because I feared your shadow. It was because I knew my self-worth lies far beyond one word and a ghost wandering the streets. I know my self-worth does not rely on your approval as I walk by. I know my self-worth is not determined by the difference in body type I have from society’s computer screen image of the ideal woman. I know my body has curves because it was molded by nature’s loving hands to make me the work of art I am today. My body and my self-love are due to a flower field of reasons.
And like I said before, I’m never going to see you again so I forgive you for attempting to plant a weed in my field of flowers. Trust me, I grasped that weed and made sure to reflect on it before I threw it into the abyss of wasteful moments where it belonged. Stranger, while staring at your weed you reminded me of the work that I still have left to do while I am on this Earth. You reminded me that if I am lucky enough to have a daughter and/or be able to connect with many young women in the future, I must teach them to never feel pain by your lackluster insults. Through my own example, I will help build their bulletproof vests, their field of flowers, their shield of self-love, their strength. I will make sure those girls understand that their power does not come solely from their appearance but from the fire within them. From their minds, determination, imagination, laughter, passion, voice, and stamina. I will help build them up so high that they won’t even have time to look below and see the harsh eyes of the world that despises their strength. Not only that Stranger, but I will make sure that those young boys I meet in life will never grow up to become a weed in a fellow female’s garden. That they will never stumble into the same bear traps and be crushed by the same boulders that made you feel so weak. So helpless that you had nothing more to grab onto than a girl walking by to help yourself stand back up on your own two feet. So thank you for reminding me of all the work I have in front of me, I promise I won’t let you down.
As you can see tonight built me up more than it tore me down. Which I know wasn’t your intent, I know your intent was to make me hurt as bad as the wounds on your skin hurt you. I wish I could help you pick the weeds out of your garden, but like I said before, we most likely will never see each other again. So sadly, that is a battle you must get through by yourself. For now, I hope you find a soft place to rest your head tonight and that the monsters you tried to hide from while you were awake don’t continue to haunt you in your sleep. I hope tomorrow I turn out to be more like a figment of your imagination than the strong woman that strolled past you. I hope you don’t remember the girl you thought you saw through your foggy mind because that wasn’t me. The girl that strolled past you was a piece of art created by nature and was far beyond your grasp. That girl was me, and I’m so much more than a word.
Sincerely,
The Girl You Called Fat