Fat. Bitch.

[KristiC]

Fat and Bitch. Two words I often heard together, and often heard apart. Both directed at me.

As far back as I can remember, I was always told that I was an "angry child". My mother was so fond of that word, "angry". It was like a buzzword to her, and she loved to use it as much as possible to excuse her and my stepfather's terrible behaviour. "Oh, Kristi, you're just so angry. You're such an angry child."

They made me go to counseling, to talk about my anger. I went to 3 sessions, and spent each hour crying about the things that were happening at home, while listening to a man say "That must be very difficult". Thankfully, like most things having to do with my happiness, my parents lost interest and stopped driving me to the sessions.

I don't remember exactly when the first time was that my stepfather called me a bitch. In fact, I can't remember a time when he didn't. After being told I was angry for so long, and believing that because they were so insistent on it being my fault, it must be true, being called a bitch seemed like a natural progression. Adding "fat" to it was just icing on the cake, so to speak.

I endured this for years; being called a bitch, being called fat, and being called a fat bitch, and then usually going to my room to cry about it because really, what could I do?

Finally, somewhere around the age of 17, I had had enough. It was no longer just my stepfather saying it, but it was my brothers and their friends as well. Every single day, I did something, or they were reminded of something I had done, that made them think I needed to be told I was a bitch. "What a fucking bitch", was also a common sentiment. This time they were right, I WAS angry.

Sure enough, one afternoon, my stepfather called me a bitch again. For the first time, I turned back to him and said "Yeah, well if I'm a bitch, it's because you're an asshole". I had never said that out loud before. He slapped me hard across the face. He used to hit me and my brothers all the time, but it had been a few years since he had, so I wasn't expecting it. I cried, of course, grabbed my face, and ran to my bedroom. He grounded me for two weeks.

I still didn't regret standing up to him, though, and the next day he did it again. He called me a bitch. I called him an asshole. He slapped me again, and grounded me for longer. This went on for a while, not every single day, but definitely regularly.

Then the day came when I called him an asshole and waited for the slap. It never came. He just looked at me with so much anger and frustration, let out an exasperated sigh, and walked out. I heard him in another part of the house punching a wall and yelling "fuck!" (which he often did when he was angry), but he didn't come back in the room.

I had won that battle. He never hit me again, and he never grounded me again. He didn't stop calling me a bitch, and I didn't stop calling him an asshole, but it was just a routine we settled into. It didn't hurt me any less, but it just became how we lived. Even after I moved out, and well into my 20s, this was how we talked to each other. We hated each other, but I think in some bizarre way, he respected me for standing up to him.

He and my Mom split up in 2006, and the last time I saw him was when he tried to run me over with his truck when I tried to stop him from leaving (that's a story for a different day). I haven't spoken to him since, and I never will.

I haven't had much of a relationship with the rest of my family either, but in one conversation with my brother last year (of the two conversations we've had in 10 years), he asked me why I couldn't get over the past and just let things go. Frustrated, I said "You guys used to call me a fat bitch!". His response?

"Well, you were."

Yeah.

I hate the word "bitch". It makes me twitch (I didn't mean that to rhyme). It makes my stomach hurt. It makes me incredibly angry. I understand that so many of my friends use it casually, and I try to make exceptions for it, but it's hard. I can't help it. When someone uses that word, I flashback to those days of being told that I was one, and those days when I believed it.

I know now that I didn't deserve it, and that I'm not a bitch (whatever that means), but there's still a part of me that gets defensive; that wants to please everyone so that nobody ever thinks I'm a bitch, and especially so that nobody ever calls me it to my face.

Maybe I need to let it go. It's just a word, right? It only holds so much meaning because I let it, right? But it's a horrible word, and regardless of my experiences, we definitely need to come up with a better way to refer to women.

Especially women we like.

[oak]

Hugs!

[Geek]

You rock for standing up for yourself !!! One of my parents had started beating on me after the age of 16. One day while I was cornered and being hit on the head, I slapped the shit out of the person hitting me. I was told, "I'm calling the cops!", which was a ploy to gain control. I said, "yeah I have grounds to call them too" . Furthermore, I was the one with red hit marks. That was the last time I was hit.

I think underneath the surface of the abuser lies an immature coward.

[ThJulie]

To reiterate: good job standing up for yourself!

I hope that you know keeping your distance from him is OK and doesn't make you a bad person. He's toxic for you and you are best to stay away from people who make you feel so infuriated.