Oh. I’m “Fat Monica”. Fuck.


Rambling train of thought brain purge…

I have been watching Friends all the way through from the beginning for the first time since it was on TV.

It is still amusing on a lot of levels, but a lot of things have not aged well. A lot of “Oh, I can’t do this thing or people will think I’m a girl and I’m not manly!” stuff (a LOT) from the guy characters, a bit of “wacky homophobia” here and there, no actual non-white people who are in any way more than scenery, etc.

There have been a few things that my husband and I have just stopped and went wow, that was…weird. Stuff we didn’t really pick up on in the 90s when we were in our twenties.

And then some of it is still hilarious.

But last night, while watching a flashback “What If We…?” episode in season 6 with “Fat Monica”, which I have always thought was sort of awful, I realized that, in this episode, “Fat Monica” was probably about my size, a little heavier, maybe where I was at the beginning of this year.

And this was prefaced with Monica asking, “What if I was still fat??” And talking about, how she was really just SO SO fat. And, as it always was, it was as if they were describing a circus freak

And Chandler was like, what, do you think I was so shallow that I wouldn’t still have asked you out? And one of the other cast members said, no she was just *that fat*.

So the episode with fat Monica goes on, multiple jokes are made about her being a fat, ridiculous, food hoarding fiend that doesn’t want to share her Kit Kat bar, and ends with her dancing with Bagels in each hand, taking bites of them between hip gyrations…

I will tell you what…

There are days where I hate my body, there are days, more of them these days than before, where I am quite comfortable with where I am for the most part, though I would rather get my weight down a little more for a variety of “structural” reasons: I have weak joints from RA/AS, and I want to be down as low as I can before I get my boobs hacked off.

I generally am not a self-loathing person. Quite the opposite, I think I am sexy as fuck most days, and I don’t even say sexy as fuck “for a fat girl” nearly as often as I used to.

But that episode really soured my mood right before bed and into today in a major way.

I don’t know why it is bothering me so much, I have already seen at least a couple “Fat Monica” episodes since we started watching it, but I think it was because, with what she was wearing in the episode we watched last night, it was clear that disgusting, obese, unfuckable, Fat Monica was my size. And I’m only a size 14/16, closer to an 18+ on one of my upswings.

I wasn’t any smaller when I watched this through the first time, so I’m not sure how I missed this…but it did not escape me last night.

And, of course this happens right *after* I had a Costco polish dog and some Nutella on a graham cracker! So I sat there feeling particularly bad about myself. Which pissed me off.

Fuck our psyches are weird.

I guess I am glad I don’t see nearly as much mockery of heavier people on TV as before. It seems like we are starting to realize a little more that it’s not your weight defines your character? And that sexuality is not only the privilege of the ultra-thin? Maybe?

Anyway, I’m going to go get a Kit Kat now. On principle. I don’t even like them. Fuckers.

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