Today, I stumbled upon a meme that resonated with me in such a profound way. It featured a hefty guy on a surfboard, declaring, “When you throw in the towel on your diet and just say ‘forget it, I’m fat.’” Honestly, they could have slapped a picture of me right there—it felt so relatable.
Society has a way of dictating how we should feel about our bodies. I should be disheartened about my weight, feeling morose as my daughter plays energetically while I struggle to keep up. I should have an epiphany in the grocery store while glancing at the latest fitness magazine, leading me to “improve myself,” hit the gym, shed pounds, and share my journey as some sort of “thinspiration” for others.
But here’s the thing: when I sense the pressure of those societal expectations, my rebellious side kicks in, and I can’t help but express my defiance. So instead, why not embrace the idea of being someone’s FATspiration? Here’s my candid journey toward self-acceptance—call it what you will, it’s my truth.
My Early Struggles
I didn’t always feel this way. The first time I recognized my weight, I was in third grade. I can’t pinpoint the exact trigger—maybe it was a comment from a classmate or a relative. Being observant, I may have just compared myself to the other girls and realized I didn’t fit the mold. From that moment on, I thought I’d eventually “grow out of it.”
As I transitioned into junior high, I slimmed down a bit, but still not enough to feel comfortable. At 5’2″ and weighing around 135 pounds, I technically had a normal BMI, but I didn’t feel “normal” compared to the “popular girls.” The insecurity led me to experiment with fasting, and that’s when my inner critic truly emerged.
High School and Beyond
Throughout high school, my weight fluctuated, but I eventually accepted that a bikini wasn’t in my future, so I made peace with my body. I was fortunate to attend a small school where bullying was minimal, and my sharp wit often deflected negative attention. However, my inner dialogue was my worst enemy.
By graduation, I was in a relationship with my first husband, weighing in at 165 pounds. I felt out of control and resorted to fasting and weight loss pills—a vicious cycle. My weight was a constant source of insecurity; I couldn’t fathom why my husband was attracted to me physically, which only exacerbated my disinterest in intimacy. I tried exercising and dieting but felt consumed by the struggle.
Then, I learned I had hypothyroidism, which explained my weight issues, but instead of relief, I faced a severe ankle injury that left me immobile for four months. When I got divorced, I tipped the scales at 250 pounds. While my weight wasn’t the sole reason for the breakup, I blamed it heavily. I was engulfed in depression, yet I masked my emotions for the world to see.
A Turning Point
A year post-divorce, I embarked on an extreme diet, dropping to nearly my high school weight. Compliments flooded in, and I reveled in newfound attention from men. But was I truly happy? Sure, I was thinner, but that didn’t erase my self-loathing; it merely transferred it to other insecurities.
Then I met my current husband. Falling in love and starting a family shifted my focus entirely. After the birth of my daughter, I realized that my weight didn’t define my worth. My priorities transformed; all that mattered was nurturing my child and building a happy family. I began questioning societal definitions of happiness and why I should engage in a relentless campaign of self-hate. Did I want my daughter to inherit that negativity? Absolutely not.
Letting Go
So, I decided to let go. I stopped worrying about diets, my jeans size, and what others thought of me. I quit linking my value as a person to my weight. Did the self-hatred vanish entirely? No, but I grasped that no one is happy all the time, regardless of their appearance. I learned to appreciate life beyond the scale.
Does this mean I won’t attempt to lose weight in the future? Perhaps I will, but for now, that fight isn’t on my agenda. I know some may view me as lazy or undisciplined, thinking I’m a burden to the healthcare system. There was a time I might have agreed. But now? Now I find joy in my presence, and if it annoys others, all the better. I’ll savor my cheeseburger with a smile.
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Conclusion
In summary, embracing my body has been a journey of self-discovery and acceptance. Rather than being defined by my weight, I’ve chosen to focus on what truly matters—my family, my happiness, and the joy of living life authentically.