Arguing both sides of obesity, image debate

Editor's note: Charleston freelance writer Sally Watts recently lost 37.5 pounds through the Focus program at the Medical University of South Carolina's Weight Management Center. Her total weight loss since the beginning of the year is 48.4 pounds.

We all have character flaws. The unfortunate distinction for fat people is that their flaw is not concealable.

I've worked in offices or socialized among people who were physically abusive to family members, or had maxed-out their credit cards because they couldn't stop shopping, or had severe TV addictions, or harbored unacceptable prejudices, or who battled alcoholism. It took me months or years to identify or otherwise become aware of their problems, and in some cases, I never saw the Achilles' heel. But fat people literally haul their baggage around all the time.

Heavy people may feel that they sometimes face unfair and unacceptable discrimination based on physical appearance alone. The other side of the argument is that bias against obesity is hardly the same as "genuine" discrimination against gender, race, etc., because fat people choose to be the way they are, rather than being born that way.

I identify with both sides of this argument. I get how unfair it is to judge a person's character and ability strictly on the fact that they're overweight. On the other hand, the "no-apologies-big-is-beautiful" faction troubles me. Yes, it's more difficult for some people to lose weight. They struggle with mental issues or physical limitations or bad genetics.

But no one said life was going to be fair.

Think about it. Would you tell an alcoholic that since the disease runs in his family and it's, thus, harder for him to stay sober than the average person, that he's off the hook and to have another cold one?

Some of us are dealt better hands than others, but we all have to play what we have, and whining about the dealer is just a waste of time, in my opinion.

What we forget, though, is that we can't see the whole hand that someone else is holding. Broken down simply, you can't always judge a book by its cover.

Derek was a sixth-grade classmate of mine growing up in Florida. He was probably close to 100 pounds overweight, and day after day, he wore the same drab beige shirt and cheap, threadbare green polyester slacks. His hair was often caked with mildewy-looking talcum powder, sprinkled on in what seemed to be a cleansing attempt. Looking back, it's obvious that the poor child should have elicited nothing but compassion for his appearance and apparent home-life difficulties. However, all we saw was that he was fat, poor and smelly — the trifecta of unpopularity at school. He had a sweet smile and an affable nature, but also kept his hands in his pockets, feet shuffling, head down, in an apparent effort to avoid meeting the gaze and contempt of classmates.

Derek went unnoticed and avoided except when there was jockeying to avoid sitting next to him, or when a teacher praised him for a quick or insightful answer.

That changed, though, at the sixth-grade talent show.

Little girls twirled baton. One studious child recited "The Jabberwocky," and another did magic tricks. I played what I thought was a charming bit of flute, which my father later said sounded like a cat being declawed sans anesthesia.

Then Derek took stage in his tacky polyester pants.

To everyone's amazement, he sang a jaw-dropping, bang-up rendition of Lionel Ritchie's "You Are" ("You are the sun, you are the rain ...") that put the ex-Commodore himself to shame.

Derek simply owned the song. He was the original "American Idol."

And it was obvious that he wasn't up there to impress or change anyone's mind about him. He just took pure joy in the music. He beamed as the raucous applause gave way to a standing ovation, hooting and tears running down several cheeks.

After that, Derek was never just the fat kid anymore. Was he still fat? Absolutely. Would he always be fat? I imagine. Was he healthy? No.

But now he was the guy with the platinum pipes who could transform an entire room and belief system based on his hidden talent.

And maybe that's all heavier people want. Maybe they don't expect a free pass or special treatment or coddling, but simply want it understood that though their personal character albatross is out there for the whole world to see, their weight alone should not define them entirely in the eyes of others.

E-mail Sally Watts at sidlesup@yahoo.com.