As I was typing the title for this post it struck me how appropriate it was – the Northwestern Wildcats have been doing some pretty awesome things in the last year. The ‘Cats have been showing up on the football field (most games) and basketball court; they just announced they are going to eliminate federal student aid for students and instead look to endowments, scholarships, and grants to help those who would otherwise have to take out loans attend one of the premier universities in the country; and, perhaps least well-known, but the subject of this post, Northwestern’s athletic department is taking on fat-shaming. Needless to say I could not be prouder to be a Northwestern Wildcat.

On Sunday Patrick and I finally took advantage of my N Club membership (thanks to my participation on the now non-existent Ladycats dance team!) and enjoyed a luncheon in Anderson Hall followed by the Northwestern v. Nebraska basketball game. Our friends joined us and we had a really nice time catching up and cheering on the ‘Cats (though one in our midst was cheering for the Cornhuskesrs – we forgive him for this) to a Senior Day victory. As fun as the afternoon was, what was most notable to me was what was posted in the women’s bathroom in Anderson Hall, which is essentially the student center for student athletes. It was a flyer dedicated to fat-shaming. I had never assigned a label to what the bulletin called fat-shaming, but it is spot-on (and probably something I should have heard before Sunday but, alas, with figuring out what the heck I’m doing at work and school – my brain is full of operations, budgets, risk management, and strategy).

Northwestern v. Nebraska

Growing up as an avid ballet dancer, you might assume I constantly thought I was fat. Thing is, I never did. Even when I ended up at American Ballet Theatre’s summer intensive where every girl and boy was obsessing over her/his weight, I hardly gave it any thought. Granted I wasn’t overweight (actually when I look back at pictures, I’m kind of grossed out by how thin I was), but it wasn’t a topic I entertained. Then I went to college. And while I wasn’t one to constantly talk about how fat I felt or was (unless you were my mom then, boy, did you get an earful), I did start noticing how others did and it started to affect me. I let it affect me. I did gain weight in college. Did I gain a ton? No, I actually probably just gained the weight I hadn’t in previous years because I was no longer always dancing, swimming, or doing some other physical activity. And, yet, I somehow convinced myself I was a heifer. And constantly obsessed over this self-proclaimed fact.

Over the last 12 years (how is it that I have been out of college for 10 years?!) I have gone through a lot of different phases. My senior year of college I instituted a regimen that was only feasible for a college student. Then I started a job that allowed me to travel and, while it was hard to maintain a routine, I did a good job of working out on the road and eating well. Three years later I found myself back in Chicago at a job that didn’t require me to travel so I was able to fall into a workout and eating routing. And, yet, I still managed to fat-shame my body on a regular basis throughout each phase.

What is it they say? That comparison robs you of happiness, or something along those lines? Well, I am certainly guilty of that (and not just when it comes to my body). At some point I (or, wait, was it society?) established this ideal for what a woman should look like. And I do not fit that ideal at all. I’m not short but I’m not super-model tall either. When I work out, my muscles start to show. I have a small waist, strong, muscular shoulders, thighs, calves (I should just give up on tall boots – they just do not fit me – extended calf and all), and butt. Notice here I call each muscular, when I talk to Patrick muscular turns into ‘big’ and ‘fat’. But they are neither big nor fat, they are strong and muscular, and they propel me to do some pretty amazing things. I might not look like the fashion or fitness model in the magazine, but this body can tackle three yoga classes, three high-intensity interval classes (or more of both) per week. This body allows me to walk to the bus stop to catch my ride to work and quickly navigate the many hallways of the hospital campus; it allows me to feel comfortable giving any physical activity a chance.

And yet. I know all of this and still complain about being fat. It is a little late for resolutions, but that bulletin in the women’s bathroom really touched on something that has, for a long time, bothered me. That we, as women, most often unintentionally, fat shame with no shame. So the next time someone says to me “I’m so fat” rather than responding with “well, then I’m humongous”, I’ll challenge that person to see what makes her great and what her body can do. It will be therapeutic not only for me, but also, I hope, for her, because really we’re all beautiful. It is our differences – in mind and body – that make each of us beautiful. And the next time those words or comparisons creep into my mind or my mouth, I’ll remind myself of what my body allows me to do, because when I do that I’ll be hard-pressed to deny the fact that I am taking good care of this body.