What a completely ridiculous blog post heading – I was fat shamed by a Crows supporter. I don’t even watch football so why would I care if one of their supporters is an insensitive prick? Well, I do because he hurt me.

You see, I was out at a pub last night for some rare kid-free time with my husband. We were at a mates birthday. She works in TV and there were a heap of cool media types. People who I hadn’t seen for a long time. I’ve aged and got wider since the last time we’d worked together and I was feeling a little nervous. And to be honest, with three kids, going out on a Friday has become a bit of a distant memory.

Since I started working full-time and traveling a lot I’ve put on another 10 kilos on an already sizeable frame. There’s no escaping my reality and I’ve become even more self conscious of how I look.

I’d spent the week trying to work out what to wear. I wanted to feel good about myself. I didn’t want to stick out further than I already do. Whenever I leave my house I feel like there’s a big arrow pointing at me – it flashes “fat person”.

Last night I got dressed and put on too much make-up. I felt ok. Not amazing, but ok. I had a fabulous dinner at a Japanese restaurant with my husband. Met friends for a drink and headed to the pub. Once I was inside, and had downed a few beers, I’d forgotten my insecurities. I was having a wonderful time catching up with friends and meeting new people.

When it was time to leave, I went to look for my husband and without realising I stopped in front of three middle-aged men, in their Crows gear. They were drowning their sorrows because their team had just loss. I got eye contact with one of them and he smiled at me. I smiled back, all the while scanning the room for my husband. And then the man yelled out to me: “I see you got the Fat Friday memo” and his mates all laughed at his hilarity and at me.

It was like an arrow in my heart. I wanted to cry, but did not give him the satisfaction.

I calmly walked closer to him so he could hear me, looked him in the eyes and told him he was arsehole.

And just like that, the big flashing arrow alerting everyone to my size returned, worse still I’d been publicly humiliated and shamed.

I found my husband and my friends and we left.

I told no-one. I was too embarrassed. I was too ashamed.

When I later started to sob in bed. I told my husband what had happened. To say he was angry would be an understatement. He reminded me that what ignorant strangers think of me is meaningless. He told me I was beautiful. He reminded me of how loved I am.

I haven’t written this for sympathy and pep talks about how I have such a great “personality” and it’s what’s on the inside that counts. I know all of that. Writing about things makes me feel better. I am without doubt not the only person that this has happened to and it makes me angry. I just hope that people read this and it makes them realise how hurtful words can be.

In the meantime. I don’t think I’ll go out again for awhile.

Bianca x