I Hate Pizza: A Letter to the Girl Who Got Called Fat

Published: March 1, 2020

Revised: June 2021

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It is only natural for us to notice differences between ourselves and others, mainly because it's an instinct of human nature to blend with our surroundings, rather than be the odd one out.

From a young age, girls are naturally more in-tuned to noticing these differences, and, consequently, are more prone to being upset over these differences, and those uncomfortable feelings in the pits of our stomachs about said differences. No two beings or bodies are the exact same, yet we as girls strive to be the ideal and unattainable "beautiful".

This being said, I ask, what makes a body "beautiful"?

***

"Gate C36 flight to New York your plane is now boarding" shot through the speakers at London's Heathrow airport on a dreary Sunday afternoon in June of 2011. I was 10 years old, and traveling with my mom, grandmother, and great-grandmother on what they explained was a very special trip consisting of four generations. To my prepubescent self, all I saw was a week away from friends and fun to spend walking around looking at old stuff.

Despite my initial hesitation regarding the trip, I had come to love and appreciate every aspect of the journey thus far, I mean what was there to complain about? I was the only child, had shopped until my little legs could shop no more, and got to travel to a new and far away place, not to mention all of the tasty treats along the way.

Sitting down to enjoy my last piece of "genuine" Italian pizza while awaiting our turn to board on return flight home, my great-grandmother, 80 at the time, turned her entire body around to say in a shrill exclamation "You've just eaten like a little pig this trip!".

My heart jumped, my jaw dropped, and my appetite ceased to exist.

With tears in my eyes, I slowly sat my warm piece of pepperoni pizza on the seat beside me and calmly made my way to the bathroom. Though the specifics of the events to follow now slip my mind, I know I looked in the mirror and wished to regurgitate every ounce of food I had consumed within the past week from my body all at once. Looking at my reflection, I no longer saw Kate, I instead gazed at a muffin top across my waist tha

t seemed to be growing ever so slightly with each passing minute, large divots of fat on my inner thighs that lived where a gap should be, and a never before noticed rounded structure of my face.

It was in this moment I began to see myself as flawed and ugly, a fact that, like my hatred of pizza, never went away.

***

Recently, my sister casually mentioned how a close friend of hers was called "curvy" in the locker room before dance class. She continued to explain how her friend no longer wears that top, even though it was her favorite.

Since hearing this story, I haven't been able to get Gaga's words out of my head, nor think about how absolutely beautiful her friend is. She shouldn't see herself as fat or ugly because she's neither of those.

So why does she?

Thinking back to my great-grandmother's words, I realize they did hold some truth, and have helped me in the long run make healthier choices when eating. However, they did change the very essence of my existence in a single sentence.

It was in the years to follow that I would continue to harp on the first flaws I saw within myself, as well as gain many new insecurities based solely around my outward appearance.

As much as I wish I could say I didn't let her words, or anyone else's get to me, I did and still do. I have yet to try on an article of clothing without grabbing my thighs or hips and wishing they would disappear. I never take a bite of food without wondering how many calories that single bite has. Nor I have yet to walk in public without comparing my size to those around me.

It's so easy for these little insecurities, especially at the age we're at, to begin to impact our lives too. Personally, since mid-way through my senior year of high school, I have used laxatives as well as forced regurgitation of food following meals I deem are "not earned", because I am self-conscious of my body's appearance and what others will think. It's an on-going issue I work on daily, but I know this fear and self-hatred runs deep and won't fix itself with a few encouraging quotes from Pinterest or a good dietary plan from a nutritionist.

Despite hearing the words "I am beautiful as I am", as well as following all of the recent self-love campaigns, can't seem to get my 10-year-old self to believe it.

As I now think back to my sister's friend, I wish more than anything that comments about girls' bodies could stop forever, but I know they won't. Though some words are meant to be encouraging, a lack of words can do just the opposite. I understand that even without words, stairs and whispers can hurt too.

Almost every girl at some point in their life has a moment where their differences are pointed out, and from then on are unable to see that area of themselves the same. I believe no girl, no matter the age, should look at herself any differently just because she's afraid of what others will say. Living healthy is important, but balance is also necessary. Food shouldn't be over-consumed but also should be enjoyed. Outfits should be worn with pride, no matter how they look, in moderation. And beauty should be defined as what's on the inside.

A good heart is beautiful. A kind soul is beautiful. A strong mindset is beautiful.

So, to my sister's friend, my 10-year-old self, and my precious readers, remember: You are beautiful, and don't let anyone tell you different.