Living in Fat Shame Culture and Learning to Love my "Fat" Photos Anyway

My first anniversary.  The ol' "hide my body
behind my husband and the dog and then
crop the photo" routine.

Have you ever been in that place where the sight of a camera sends you diving underneath the nearest table or reaching for your napkin to hold in front of your face?  If you're like me, you've shuddered at the loud suggestion of "group shot!" and then carefully positioned your body behind two people on either side of you.  Or maybe you've got a special pose reserved for when you can't get out of being in a picture: turn, slightly sideways, shoulder forward, and your nearest accessory (an oversized clutch will do) held at your hip to draw the eye away from the thighs and midsection and to the clutch and shoulders instead.  If you put your hands on your hips and make sure the negative space between your arms and your waist can be seen in the photo, you nearly guarantee yourself a slimmer appearance in the shot.  I am a pro at feeling-fat-in-front-of-a-camera 101.

Considering my experience as a peculiarly grotesque (tongue-in-cheek) child and how I then vowed to never let my appearance cause me to be ridiculed again, I was once sensitive about having my picture taken.   I have a body I haven't particularly liked seeing in photographs, until recently.  I can thank my children for that.

I have always been sensitive about my weight, even when I was skinny.  This is because, at 5'10, I weighed more than the other girls.  It did not matter how slim, trim, and in-shape I was and appeared, the extra 3-5 inches I usually had on my female peers meant I had an additional 15-25lbs on them too.  How I felt about my body only worsened throughout the years.  First, there was college where I wasn't working out 5-6 days a week and exercising (basketball practice) four hours per day.  Instead, I was sitting and studying--a lot.  I also was eating a lot of nachos with chili from the college cafeteria--oh my gosh was it good and comforting.  I remember looking at the photos of my one year wedding anniversary and being shocked "oh my goodness, that's just not me."  I wanted to hide the photos somewhere where they would never see the light of day.  But my husband loved them.  I settled for choosing to display only shots where the majority of my body wasn't showing.  

Then later, being pregnant three times, two to-term pregnancies both with babies over 9lbs each, really changed my body.  My husband insisted on accompanying me to every pre-natal appointment with my first pregnancy.  After a while, when my doctor would ask me my weight I would write it on a piece of paper and slide it face-down across the counter to her like you see in those dramatic movies where two parties are discussing a high-stakes deal involving lots of money.  After my first son was born, I had never weighed so much in my entire life.  Eating right and breast feeding helped me drop over 70lbs in the first four months.  However, the weight loss stopped there and I was still pretty heavy.  

I learned to instruct people who insisted on taking photos of me with my new baby on how to photograph me.  For instance, I'd forbid someone to photograph me if they were sitting and I was standing; it's not flattering to the thighs.  And watch that harsh flash, it enhances double-chin like you wouldn't believe.  I spent most of my time behind the camera taking photos and not being in them.  I soon realized that my baby was going to look back on these pictures and wonder where his mommy was and why she didn't want to be in any pictures.  I know that I love looking back at pictures of my parents when I was younger.  I have several pictures of my original mother too and I like to look at them and think of what I what age I was and what I was doing when one photo or another of hers was taken.  How do I answer the question "what did you look like when I was little mom?  Where are the pictures of you?" when my kids ask me?

This is where I decided I needed to change my line of thinking.  I do not want my children to grow up surrounded by fat shame culture without me acting as a role model on how women's bodies (anyones body) should be respected and acknowledged as beautiful regardless of the size.  It was OK to want to be healthy and lose weight.  It was not OK for me to acquiesce to fat shame culture and hide myself from being captured in memories at special times because I was ashamed of what my body looked like.  I want to be in the pictures with my children; I want them to know their mother is proud of who she is, not ashamed, and for them not to feel that another person's body is shameful either because I went first and set a good example.

Now of course, I am also a photography lover which I never became more passionate about than when my parents bought me a DSLR camera.  I bring the thing everywhere with me and my friends (usually) appreciate that many of their events when they could not afford to hire a photographer could have some nice photo memories because I was there with my camera glued to my face.  Here's where I started noticing other people dive under the table, hold napkins and menus in front of their faces, awkwardly hide their bodies in group photos, and don a peculiar stance to minimize their waist and thighs in photos.  The host wants to remember that their guests shared this special time with them at their wedding, shower, or party and people are all but climbing inside the center piece arrangements trying to hide from the photographer.

Here's where I also started scratching my head because it's always the most gorgeous person that wants to hide behind the napkin.  It's always someone with a body issue I had not so much as noticed existed that's sensitive about it and is trying to hide it in front of the camera.  Standing behind my camera photographing family and friends, I do not see love handles or round bellies.  I don't see blemishes or the fact that you don't think your teeth are cute.  I see the magnificent way you tilt your head back when you laugh or how your nose crinkles just a bit when you smile.  I saw intent look on your face when someone you admire was telling you a story.  I saw how your aunt's eyes lit up when you touched her hand and told her it was good to see her again.

Of course, there are always people who generally won't like having their picture taken.  Also, people taking pictures need to be mindful of someones preferences as well as respectful of their privacy when taking photographs.  But for me, I have come to realize that hiding because I am critical of myself isn't worth it.  What is worth it is making memories for my sons and my loved ones.  People are not looking for my flaws, like I am, just as I am not looking for flaws when I photograph people I care about.  As someone who has been struggling with my weight for years now, one liberating, shame-releasing phrase is something I've been learning to say more and more...

"Hi, can I give you my camera for a second so you can take a picture of me with my sons?"