Saddlebags and Inner Thigh Blobs

I have saddlebags. You know, those accretions of fat that hang on to the outside of the upper thigh. Known as "unsightly." Known as "D-Sgusting" with a capital D.

I tried to find a  Google image that would give you some idea of what mine look like. Can you say unsuccessful? There are no saddlebags on all of Google that compare with mine. Truth be told, I have rarely seen any as gigantic, and I don't suppose those ladies go around capturing images of theirs any more than I do.

Saddlebags are shameful. Mostly because not all fat people have them. You can be enormously fat and have nary a saddlebag. This is why fat women say, "I'm so fat! I am 265 pounds and wear a size 20 pant!" La-di-effing-da, lady. I'm only 220, but, because of my mutant upper thighs--which are composed not only of regular fat, but of outer blubber (the saddlebags) and amassed inner blubber (the titular inner thigh blobs), I wear a size 24.

Yep, this means that in order to get enough denim to accommodate my fat butt, I have this giant waist band that has nothing in common with my actual waist, which is, frankly, tiny in comparison to places south of it.

The Inner Thigh Blobs have been discussed in an earlier post, with reference to friction burns and pantyhose.

I spoke with a plastic surgeon about the whole problem. She said, "When you have maintained your desired weight for six months, we can do the reduction." I had said nothing about wanting to lose weight. I went in merely to consult with her, and the first thing out of her mouth is, "lose weight first." Well, no kidding, but I have to get down to my desired weight before getting the baggage off? Good luck to me on that.

I am sure I will go to my grave with saddlebags and inner thigh blobs, which, by the way, grow ever more horrid. The saddlebags have been affected by gravity after so many years, so they sort of hang down a little, making a small crease. I have to lift the saddlebag to dry the crease after bathing. Of course, these are not the only things I have to literally pick up and move around in order to dry myself off.

The inner thigh blobs are more and more gross as well. They have always been with me. In fact, in high school (when I was 130 or 140 at most), I used the saddlebags and inner thigh blobs as a short-skirt standard. If my skirt covered these areas, it was long enough to meet the school dress code. Even now, I use a similar standard--if my shirt covers the bulges, it's long enough, and I can go around town in the false belief that the upper thigh fat deposits are not as noticeable as they would be were I to, say, tuck my shirt into tight pants.

My surgeon charges $3,000 per "area." An area includes both sides of the body, so it would cost me $3,000 to reduce the outer bulges and another $3,000 to reduce the inner blobs. Of course, if you look at pre- and post-op pictures of saddlebag reduction surgery, there isn't much difference between the pictures. Even after spending $6,000 and six months in support garments, my thighs would probably still rub together. My luck, I'd probably end up with uni-thigh, like that poor woman who ended up with the Uni-Boob after have some breast surgery.

Down With Comfort Zones

Fine. I have a meeting this week with a bunch of people I've never met. Truth is, it's a support group for FATTIES LIKE ME. We're going to talk about our Relationship To Food (constant, loving) and wonder aloud how that plays into all our other relationships.

So, now that you've encouraged me, I'm going to go to this meeting, not in jeans and a frumpy top, but ALL DRESSED UP, including make-up and jewelry!!! I won't wear heels, because I can't walk in them, but I will definitely wear a dress and nice flats. AND SPANX, to show that I am not totally unselfaware.

The thing about me and SPANX is that when I walk, it makes that woosh-woosh sound of "HEY, YOUR THIGHS RUB TOGETHER!"

Fat story about thighs rubbing together: I went to private schools where we were required to wear pantyhose, and if you walk around in pantyhose day after day (let's say you don't have very many pairs, so you have to wash and reuse them for over a week, or until they die of runs), and your thighs are rubbing together hour after hour, THEY WEAR OUT at the inner thigh, but you still have to walk around.

So now your thighs are rubbing together and there's these blobs of inner-thigh fat that are bulging out of the holes in the pantyhose and (I don't mean to be overly graphic but....) friction, erosion, whatever, you can get very painful friction burns, which makes you walk funny, because you are in an inner hell of pain and what are you supposed to do about it? You can't take your pantyhose off, because they are part of the dress code, and you can't put gauze or tissue there because it will still rub together and sort of flake off as you walk, leaving a damning trail. So you just live in pain and agony and try to walk like you're not dying and hope you don't actually start to drip blood, because you know what THAT will look like.

To this day, I won't go to the mall or take any long walks if I'm wearing a dress, because this problem has not magically gone away, and pantyhose are not required. Fat thighs that rub together will eventually cause friction burns, and these hurt really really badly, plus then you have sores on the inside of your thigh, and who wants to have to explain that to a skinny husband whose thighs couldn't touch each other if he were put in some kind of thigh vice? So, if you see me around, and I'm wearing pants, fine, I'll go on a walk with you. If I'm wearing a dress, nope. Not happening. I'll say, "Sorry, I have a headache," or "Sorry, I'm a fat, lazy bum who never takes walks," but the truth is, if I go walking, my giant thighs will rub each other to death and I'll have sores.

Nor can you put bandages on sores like these to protect them from future walking, because (as above), when you walk, the bandages will just friction off.

Anyway, I'll be wearing a DRESS to the FATSO SUPPORT GROUP ("and why do you think you had french fries tonight when you know they are bad for you?"), therefore I will not be able to walk around the mall on my way home.

Dear Olivia

I just read how my talk of jewelry and clothes made you feel and your own feelings about all of that.  I hope you'll keep the post just as it is. I could feel exactly how you were feeling. And I do feel exactly how you feel about all of that. I have a closet FULL of clothes. SO MANY. I only wear a handful of my "safe" clothes. The others cling weird, or hit a weird spot so the bottom of my stomach bulge is all accentuated, and even if something does fit decently it still looks to me like I'm some ugly bumpkin trying to make myself into something I'm not (Worth It). It's a very bizarre thing to be realizing the extent of how truly sick I am in my head over areas related to my weight (all areas, basically?) and examine these issues and see patterns in them and discover such truths about them, but then to be actively affected by them still. It'd be nice to be able to just snap out of it once you understand how destructive something is and why it works the way it does. It's like if you kept stabbing yourself over and over and then were like, "Oh, duh, this is hurting me and all I have to do is stop making this stabby motion and it'll stop? Okay, well, I'm going to go ahead and get back to stabbing now or maybe I'll stop for a week or two, but then I'll go back to the stabbing." Okay, so cake and fried foods are more enjoyable than being stabbed, but still, you get my point. Anyway, do you want to play a game where we each make it a point to go out in public at least one time this week in makeup, jewelry, and something we normally wouldn't wear? If you're in, tell me in the comments! Then we'll talk about how it felt. Let's do it in the spirit of owning who we are, ending the shame, and stepping outside of our old habits. Yeah?

Love,      

Lilly

Olivia: yeah about the jewelry and clothes

I feel the same way. I pretty much feel that I'm not "womanly enough" to wear jewelry. I have also felt that because I'm not womanly enough (in any area, because I'm a fat fat fatty) that it doesn't matter how I dress. I can show cleavage--who cares! I'm not attractive and no one will notice or care if I'm showing miles of boob.

I've always felt this way--that not only does it not matter what I wear, but that if I do dress up, put together an outfit, try to be attractive, I will instantly be outed as an IMPOSTER WOMAN. Someone who wants to be an attractive woman, but who ISN'T, because she's Fat, capital F. So, I didn't and don't try.

The awful thing is now I look back at that poor young woman--me in the old pictures--and I think, you were so cute. You should have tried to look prettier. No, to be beautiful. Fat girls get stuck in the "you're so cute" zone, they forget (or, like me, never realize) that they are beautiful.

I still don't realize this. I still feel the same way: trying to be attractive is a fraud, doesn't work anyway, why try. Jewelry is for real women. Even make-up. Even lipstick. For a very very long time, I just didn't, and even now I only wear make-up rarely. It's for women, and I'm somehow not in that group, for all my boobs and hips and chromosomes, and stretchmarks from childbirth . . .

So I basically hate everyone who told me I was fat. Because I wasn't. Until you kept on and on and on about a few extra pounds until I freaked out about them and started dieting and fasting and freak-show yo-yo-ing and emotional eating and yep, finally, I fulfilled your prophecy and got fat. And now I'm fat. Happy? Now, if you're my mother, you can hand me the Plus Size catalog and say, "I got this, but I don't wear these sizes, so I thought of you." Or, "I found this enormous sweatshirt at a yard sale, and I thought of you."

Lily, sorry this is rough-drafty and angsty, but your jewelry post just Set. Me. Off. and made me hate people I should love because they should have loved me, but they didn't. Or they thought rude criticism counted as loving. FYI, it doesn't.

Is it possible for a woman in her SIXTH DECADE to finally and really see herself as an attractive woman, as someone who deserves to be loved, as someone who can be pretty. I see women in their fifties who are lovely. They are all thin. I see fat women who wear jewelry and make-up and put-together outfits and they don't look ridiculous, though I think I look ridiculous when I do that. They look good. They certainly look better than the trailer-trash style (jeans/t-shirts) I throw on my gross fat self.

Eighteen Inches

I have so many necklaces. For years I've picked them up whenever I find a super cute one. I don't wear necklaces though. They're for "one day" when I'm not so fat and can adorn myself without feeling like I'm trying do the whole (faux) silk purse from a sow's ear thing. Besides feeling like people would pity me for trying to pretty up this mess there is also the fact that jewelry looks ridiculous on me. I'll find something really cute that would go perfect with some outfit and then I'll try it all on and I'll look so unnatural and forced and weird that I just can't imagine going out in public. I have worn a few little pendant necklaces with sentimental value, always on very long chains because short chains (which are always so much shorter than they're meant to look on my fat neck) make me look like I'm some giant monster trying on human jewelry. Dear lord. I know how horrible I am to myself. I'm only trying to be completely honest and these are the things I think. I mean, I know I should be kinder to myself, but when we are all alone in our thoughts and all the bullshit is pushed aside, when you're not having to worry about hurting someone's feelings or not coming across as a bitch, there is truth and this is truth. Jewelry looks weird on me because of my size. Bracelets only accentuate the fatness of my arms, rings on these sausage fingers look silly, anything more than studs looks like I'm trying too hard and the rest of the package is too lacking to be doing big earrings, for goodness' sake. And the exact same thing happens with clothes - everything looks awkward and awful and so it sits unused just like all my damn costume jewelry. I know what's going on in my head is not healthy. I don't know how to increase my self-worth except for to increase my value in my own eyes. I don't know any better way than to start being a better person who does the things she believes in (like eating a lot of whole plant foods to nurture the body and not a lot of shit food). The other day I put on a little star pendant I got for Christmas many years ago and I put it on a short chain because when it comes to other people, I've decided I'm tired of caring what other people think. I'm too old to keep caring. Maybe after I have regained the respect of myself I can start worrying about other people. In the meantime I want to stop waiting for "one day" when everything is perfect because I'll be thin and just enjoy now, just as I am (but hopefully constantly working towards a better me). I want to wear my jewelry even if I look awful. Let them go home to their families and tell them about the hideous beast in Target who dared to wear big old hoop earrings and a funky necklace while also being hefty.

-Lilly