Let me share something personal with you. The woman in the photo on the left? That’s me—real and unfiltered. This picture was taken five years ago, shortly after having three children. I was at my lowest weight since I was a teenager. Just two months before my 35th birthday, I stepped into a J Crew store looking for khaki pants. I asked for a size 8, but the employee suggested I might actually fit into a size 4. I appreciated the compliment, but insisted on trying the 8, which promptly fell down. At that point, I weighed 123 pounds, the lightest I had been since I was 15. Yet, when I looked at that photo, I felt dissatisfied with my appearance.
Fast forward to now: Here’s the version of me you may recognize. This photo, taken just two months ago, shows me with my five children. I look like a mother, and I am proud of that. Over the years, my weight has fluctuated significantly—sometimes up, sometimes down. It’s been like a rollercoaster ride, but far less enjoyable. This is life after navigating pregnancy, breastfeeding, rigorous exercise, and the constant battle between loving and despising my workout routines.
The body in the “after” photo was achieved through intense effort: a drastic calorie restriction, running numerous miles each week, and sacrificing sleep. I meticulously tracked everything I consumed, even down to a single cherry tomato. Such dedication came at a high price—my health and happiness. I lost my menstrual cycle, deprived myself of food I enjoyed, and became obsessed with my body image.
Are You Puzzled?
You might be wondering what I’m getting at. I anticipate reactions like:
- You looked amazing! What happened?
- How did you let yourself gain so much weight?
- Why do you look worse in the second photo?
Some may simply label me as overweight. Others might comment that I appear happy and healthy. And I am both of these things.
I’m determined to challenge the stereotype that equates thinness with happiness—it’s simply not true. My experience taught me that being slender didn’t translate to joy. Achieving a size 4 made shopping easier and garnered attention from strangers, but it consumed my thoughts and time. I became fixated on workouts, calorie counting, and sacrificing my favorite foods—all for the sake of being thin.
However, I want to clarify that being slender doesn’t guarantee happiness, nor does being overweight imply sadness. This realization has taken time, but it’s crucial to express: Happiness does not depend on being thin, and being fat doesn’t equate to being unhappy.
I’ve been reflecting on these thoughts for weeks, and reading a post from Emma Johnson spurred me to finalize and share my story. We need more voices to counter the overwhelming narratives from the media that promote weight loss pills and unrealistic beauty standards.
Since that last photo, medication adjustments for my bipolar disorder have led to an additional 10-pound gain. While my clothes may no longer fit comfortably, I’ve found a newfound peace and joy that far outweighs the numerical value on the scale. Ten extra pounds seem trivial when contrasted with the joy of spending time with my children and prioritizing rest.
Being Fat and Happy
It’s entirely possible. Embrace your body unapologetically. Wear that bikini with confidence. Enjoy your favorite foods guilt-free. The world often pressures you to strive for thinness, supported by industries that thrive on your insecurities. But the truth is: beauty comes in all shapes and sizes.
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In summary, the journey toward self-acceptance and happiness is multifaceted. It can exist regardless of your weight, and it’s vital to challenge society’s narrow definitions of beauty and worth.