I think it's really awesome that we have decided, as a society, that's it's not cool to shame people for most things. I like that people who have different abilities aren't supposed to be treated like they're somehow less than everyone else; they're treated like special, unique individuals.

That's the way it should be, especially since we all have our things that are less than perfect; they're the fun parts.

HOWEVER (you knew this was coming, don't act like it was a surprise; this is my public forum for complaining), I think it's horrible that we still put up with fat-shaming. I know, it's supposed to be obliterated, and we all care so much about what fat kids eat for lunch and blah, blah, blah, but that's a bunch of crap. Fat people are still treated like farm animals that are one step lower on the rungs of humanity, and that's not right.

This bothers me partly because I am fat, and partly because I am related to and love all sorts of other people who have struggled with weight. For those of you who have never been more than twenty pounds over normal, you may want to click away. You're not going to get this. Some of us have struggled since we were small kids, and don't tell me it's because we don't move enough and we eat poorly; I exercise a ton and I eat better than all my skinny friends. It's just that our bodies were designed to survive famines and stuff. So watch out.

At any rate, I was in H&M on Saturday (for the very first time and I thought my brain was going to explode from the excitement), and I was trying on some things in the changing room. First of all, they need new lighting if they're going to sell so many clothes that are slightly see-through because, whoa. Anyway, I finished my try-on, left the changing room, and encountered a line to get out. I was behind a group of women who were behind another woman who was helping her little girl try on shorts and asking the changing room woman to hold a few things since there was an item limit. She was wearing a green dress and it was that thin t-shirt material, so you could definitely see every bump and bulge. To be fair, she wasn't what I would call fat. She was maybe a size 10. Maybe. She was a very pretty lady, and yes, you could see her bra in the back and a little spillover on the top of her underpants, but good for her for wearing something that made her feel pretty.

The group of three women in front of me was loudly complaining about how long this woman was taking, and then one of them started talking about how some people should learn how to dress. Mind you, this lady was about the same size, and was not free from the muffin top herself. Regardless, she thought it was appropriate to loudly berate  "people who wear clingy dresses that obviously don't have the figure for them."

The part of this that makes me feel bad is coming up.

So, the woman in the dress, who has totally heard all of this, is lowering her head because it's quite plainly embarrassing the crap out of her in front of all these strangers, but most importantly, in front of her kid. She hurries back into a dressing room and we all proceed out, the lady in front of me still loudly mocking the lady in the dress.

I was shocked that no one said anything. But I didn't, either, and that's the part that makes me feel bad. I knew if I said anything, I'd open myself up to that, and I didn't want any, since I am quite a bit larger than either of those women. Also, I knew I'd just cry, which is my defense mechanism and I really need to work on getting a new one because people don't react well when they're in an altercation with someone and she just starts crying.

Adrenaline and I have a weird relationship. Mine is more like cry-or-flight, so I'm pretty sure my genes were not destined for survival unless it involved hiding. I am great at that.

At any rate, it got me thinking that if that woman was being made fun of for any other reason, someone would've told that nasty lady to shut her pie-hole. ANY OTHER REASON. But fat was okay. None of us heard it. I am as much to blame as anyone else, but I really hope that lady in the dressing room doesn't change who she is because of that nastiness. She wasn't even really fat, just had some bulge action happening where she couldn't see it, which happens to even the skinniest of people with the right help from panty lines and bra bands.

I walked out of the dressing room with that special look on my face that tells my husband I am super annoyed. I told him what happened, and he says, "But she didn't look bad."

Sigh. I know. But it wasn't that she looked bad, it was that that woman thought that commenting about her fat was a safe way to get in a dig for making her wait a couple of minutes to get out of the dressing room at the H&M. And, apparently, it was.

I realize that I comment about people's outfits all of the time; I am not trying to say that we shouldn't have free right to comment. I am saying that you should wait until the person about whom you are speaking is far, far away and will never hear you. Hey, if I can't hear you, go for it. Make fun of me all you want, because if I don't hear about it, it doesn't hurt my feelings. Say what you will about me and my big pants.

I do love my big pants. Don't judge. It's like wearing freedom.

Next time, no matter what, I am going to say something. Even if I cry. Because that's a load of crap, and I don't want to be one of the people who just stands there and watches someone else get stamped on. Oh, and if you're that nasty lady, reading this and feeling just a wee bit like an a-hole, yes, you are one, and yes, you totally did have massive bra strap bulge in the back. While you were talking about her bulges and how, "No one should wear a dress like that who doesn't work out." So, yeah, you might want to hit the gym, too.

Yep, fighting fire with fire. That's me. Especially since I'm pretty sure that lady would never read a blog post written by a fat person. It would just be too gross for her non-fat eyeballs.