A moment that changed me: lashing out at a man who opened the door for the newly thin me | Stacie Huckeba

It was July 2014, Nashville Tennessee. I was walking into a gas station for a bottle of water when the man behind me stepped up to open the door for me. With that act of kindness, something inside me snapped and I flew into a blind rage. I began screaming at him at the top of my lungs.

“No, you can not open this door for me! You wouldn’t have opened it two years ago, so you damn sure can’t open it now!” I scowled and stormed away, completely enraged.

It was the third time that week that a man had done something polite for me. First a man had bought me a drink at a concert, and then there was the nice man who had helped me scoop up my groceries after I dropped my bag, and now this man with the door.

I know all this might leave you wondering if I had had a rough week, or a fight with my boyfriend or was in a terrible mood that had prompted me to lose my temper like that. The truth is more complicated.

Two years before this, in July 2012, I weighed 365lb, which roughly translates into 26 stone. I was enormous, and had been my entire life. I grew up an obese kid, was an obese teenager, an obese young adult, and by my mid-40s I had ballooned into a hugely obese adult.

But that summer I started a massive journey to lose 220lb, or almost 16 stone, over the course of four and a half years. As I sit here today, I’m literally a third of the body mass I used to be. I am an average-sized woman who wears a size medium pretty much across the board. And, I am happy to report, I am also a fairly happy, confident person.

But that day I had just begun experimenting with regular-sized clothes, and I was not confident. I was uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable with the attention my new body was receiving, I was uncomfortable about new social circles, and I was uncomfortable with the unexpected boost to my career.

I was uncomfortable but I didn’t know why. Everything seemed to be going so well. I should have been happy, but I wasn’t. And it wasn’t until I saw that man’s hand reach for the handle of that door that I knew why – and it pissed me off.

The idea that the size of my trousers had had anything to do with simple politeness was heartbreaking to me

I had been disregarded, overlooked and ignored because of my size for so long that I didn’t even realise it until people started being nice to me – until, in other words, I was “normal sized”. No one had ever done those things for me before.

He opened that door for me because I wasn’t physically offensive to him, and I knew. And it was in that moment that I realised how terrible we are as a society to people, based solely on their appearance. This realisation broke me. It broke me in a way that I’ve never been broken before. He certainly didn’t deserve my outburst, but in that moment I couldn’t help myself.

The idea that the size of my trousers had had anything to do with simple politeness was heartbreaking to me. Never mind men actually asking me on dates, career advances, better opportunities and much cheaper clothes (big girls get done over by the fashion world).

In every pair of trousers I have ever owned, I have been the exact same person; with the same thoughts, abilities, talents, intellect and heart. I didn’t just magically become smart, funny, talented and pretty when I could buy smaller jeans. I’ve been in here the whole time. But very few took the time to see me.

And when that realisation came, I grieved for the child, teenager and woman I had been and all she had been deprived of. I grieved for what experiencing that would do to my current self. And I grieved for all of the people who may have missed her along the way because they were too blind to see her. In that moment of grief, I lashed out at a perfectly polite stranger.

That moment changed every single thing about me. It has now become my life’s mission to help people realise their true beauty and strength; right now, in the body they occupy, this second. I’m a photographer and video producer, and it completely changed the way I shoot my clients, as well as prompting me to launch a second career, writing and speaking publicly, so that hopefully I can change the way we all perceive beauty.

I love my ass the size it is now. I love the way I look and feel, and the freedom it gives me. I can breathe. I actually love taking exercise. I love that my feet don’t ache and my back doesn’t crack. My boobs look like two baseballs in sacks but, whatever – they look great in lingerie and I can actually buy it now.

But the thing is, I was amazing before I lost the weight too. That girl had the strength to become this woman. That girl had the courage to leave home at 16 years old in search of a new life. She had the passion to pursue a career in the arts and actually succeed. And she had a big enough heart to not notice that people were mean to her along the way.

People are my business, and I’ve learned a lot about them over the years. I’ve learned that I’ve never met one that wasn’t stunning. No matter what they looked like or what they weighed. I’ve never seen a face or body that I couldn’t find beauty in or a person who didn’t possess compassion, humour and love.

Honestly, people are amazing. You just have to really see them.

A moment that changed me: lashing out at a man who opened the door for the newly thin me | Stacie Huckeba

Having sex with the lights off? It"s the thin edge of the Donald Trump wedge | Bridie Jabour

Last week I had a package delivered to my desk containing a lightbulb suggesting I may prefer to have sex with it on because it is dimmer than the average bulb.

It was not a piece of fanmail, but a PR push that began with “research” about how many women felt self conscious about their body during sex.

“We hope this helps you start seeing yourself in a new light – to love how you look and love how you feel,” it said.

The product it was promoting? Weight loss. Specifically, Weight Watchers.

First the weight loss industry came for our enjoyment of the beach intoning “bikini body” from the last day of winter onwards, and now they are coming for the bedroom.

I was inclined to tweet a photo and forget about it. But a week later I am still getting furious responses from women, a visceral reaction which shows this is still something women want to talk about … despite it being something they are sick of talking about.

Bridie Jabour (@bkjabour)

How many people thought this was an okay idea before it arrived on my desk as a piece of PR pic.twitter.com/7tH37yyqsS

October 14, 2016

This wasn’t just one of the numerous petty insults we are used to every day but something that was thought out for months, strategised, okayed by multiple people.

What is there to be said about weight loss campaigns that hasn’t already been said? Reams have already been written. We know insecurities are exploited for financial gain.

We know there is a relentless and unrealistic pressure put on women to look a certain way from when they were girls.

We know that more often than not, the product being sold just doesn’t work. Women either do not lose weight, or a much smaller number lose the weight and then discover all of their problems are not solved by being thin.

And yet, it is 2016 and I am still receiving a lightbulb in the mail suggesting I might prefer to have sex with the lights off for fear that my partner might, shockingly, see my body.

It’s almost embarrassing to have to write such an obvious point – overweight people enjoy sex, it is not just the domain of the thin. But this campaign isn’t just saying overweight people may not be inclined to show their bodies, it’s also saying any woman could, and perhaps should, be self-conscious taking her clothes off.

No matter your size you are susceptible to this campaign, whether you think you should lose 10kg, 30kg, or 2.5kg there is something in here for everyone. It’s not just about being overweight, it’s about every woman who has ever wished something about their body was different. Which is pretty much all women.

It’s so boring.

This is the thin edge of the Donald Trump wedge, the insidious everyday misogynistic messaging we are telegraphed about how we should look, how it matters. It is the other end of the sexism spectrum to Trump who trumpets it, says bluntly: “She is a fat piglet.”

If there is any silver lining, it is that more and more women are not putting up with this any more. Trump is actually losing votes over his comments and treatment of women. Weight Watchers was forced to respond to the backlash – it hasn’t pulled the campaign but Weight Watchers’ senior marketing manager, Rebecca Melville, conceded it could cause offence.

“We launched in stages and that has fuelled the conversation without context,” she told Mumbrella.

What context do we need? We already know the context: the company commissions the research that says we have a problem with our bodies during sex and, surprise, that company has the product to solve our problem.

It feels like we are stuck in this infinite loop, doomed to keep trying to tell the world our bodies are fine, we are fine.

We are tired. Tired of the commentary on how desirable we are, tired of being warned about summer bodies, tired of being told hair removal and makeup is a statement no matter what our decision on it. We’re tired of all that because there are so many more interesting things we could be talking and thinking about. We have better things to do.

Having sex with the lights off? It"s the thin edge of the Donald Trump wedge | Bridie Jabour