What Your Thinness Has Taken From You
I told you my reality as a fat person, but you weren’t able to hear it
The last day I saw you, you drove up in a new car.
When you arrived at our one-on-one happy hour, I asked about your new job, but you told me only about your salary. You were making six figures, nearly triple my salary, and were disappointed not to be making more.
“Jason told me I should be making at least $200,000, but we didn’t get there. Not quite.” You took a long sip of your drink. “You should be up there by now. I mean, you’re worth at least that much,” you said.
I looked at you blankly. You knew my line of work, knew what my salary had been two years earlier when we worked together. “Not quite,” I echoed.
“Why not? You’ve got five years on me — you should probably be closer to 250, to be honest.”
My stomach twisted on itself, soured by the familiar nausea of being told I ought to have a life that was categorically out of reach. It was the sharp sickness of choosing between convincing a smaller person that we live in different worlds or quietly agreeing to the premise that we are somehow received as equals.
I wanted to tell you that only 15% of managers would even consider hiring a fat person. I wanted to…
