For the last nineteen years I have perpetually been either on a diet, or screwing up a diet. I have hated myself out of relationships and into eating disorders. I have healthfully lost 70 pounds, unhealthfully lost 212, and gained each of them back with inches to spare.
I’m done. I’m done until I’m okay with who I am at any weight. I’m done until someone can tell me I’m attractive and I can believe them. I’m done until I can look at myself naked in a mirror — my round face, my stretch marks, the folds on my back — and be okay with how they look. I want to be able to touch my body without revulsion.
I see so many beautiful women and men (or handsome, if they prefer) who I outweigh by a hundred pounds or more talking themselves down. They think they’re ugly. They think their fat makes them ugly. I look at them with burdensome envy and wish I could tell them what a gift their bodies are, but I know full well that when I was their size I was looking at people twenty pounds smaller and thinking the same thing, never stopping to appreciate what I had.
I will appreciate where I am now. I will allow my body to be loved. I will accept the way I look and I will let it be beautiful.
I am overweight. There are health risks at my size. The thing is, I legitimately enjoy certain kinds of exercise. I legitimately enjoy healthy meals. But I would rather stay in bed than go to the gym at stupid o’clock in the morning. I would rather sit down with a handful of chips that I’m craving than a handful of carrots I’m trying to placate myself with. And I love carrots! But as long as I’m trying to lose weight, as long as I’m looking in the mirror and seeing inadequacy and ugliness, I will never truly enjoy long walks on autumn days, or grilled chicken with steamed vegetables, because they won’t be walks and meals, they’ll be calories. They’ll be a task and a goal and another way to measure my success or failure. I won’t do them, not because I don’t love them, but because I hate what they represent. I will never lose weight by making my life into something I hate. If I lose weight (If.) it will be because I am doing things for the love of them and my body is reacting accordingly. I don’t want to do it if I can’t do it like that.
I am 5’6” and weigh 310 lbs.
I have beautiful pale blue eyes, an enviable peaches n’ cream complexion, auburn hair that lights up like copper in the summer, and a bangin’ rack. I am creative and clever. I am analytical and empathetic. I am a good friend. I am a good person. I have fucking brilliant taste in music.
I am worth more than a bathroom scale and a tape measure can tell.
I’m fat. And I am making the decision to be okay with that.by