Dear beloved,
I’ve reached a turning point in our relationship. I’ve tried to engage with your requests to hit the gym together, and I’ve held my tongue when you read the calories on the ice cream container. I’ve shed tears when questioned about why I need two desserts, and I’ve aimed to interpret your worries about my health and size as love. But today, I can’t pretend anymore.
I need you to hear me when I say I have a complicated relationship with food, and that’s not likely to change. I can allow you some time to process this, but I can’t keep explaining it endlessly. At some point, acceptance is key.
Despite how it may seem, I don’t need you to keep tabs on my health. I get that you want a long, happy life with me and our future children. But my immune system is tough, and I navigate my daily routines and physically demanding job with ease. There’s no indication from any doctor that I’m in immediate danger.
When you express your desire for me to be healthy, it doesn’t motivate me as you intend; it pressures me. If you’re unsure about what I mean by “pressure,” just ask—I’m here to clarify. For example, when you suggest I join you for a Whole30 challenge, I don’t need you to justify its benefits. The mere thought ignites an unhealthy excitement in me, swirling my thoughts back to old, obsessive habits.
While you worry about the potential health risks of my weight, I fear the restrictions that come with dieting. An eating disorder is a mental health issue, and while I may appear to you as an unhealthy individual, you’ll never grasp the battles I’ve faced in my mind. I’ve finally reached a point where I can enjoy a meal without fear, and that is a triumph for me.
I weigh 200 pounds, and funnily enough, I’m not a fan of mayonnaise. But the freedom I now experience around food is indescribably fulfilling. I can savor meals with friends without plotting to sneak the last bite. I can dance without worrying about calories burned. I can wake each day without dreading dietary failures. I can even enjoy eggs with yolks!
What I absolutely cannot do is restrict myself ever again. I can’t swallow your remarks about my eating habits or be next to someone who doesn’t appreciate every part of me. If you can’t accept all 200 pounds of me, then you can’t have any of me.
I’ve always been larger than life; I’ve never been small, and I embrace that. I’ve contended with societal pressures to shrink myself, and I did—only to realize that I was thin but also gray and unwell. I would choose to stay at this weight, jiggling while I dance, rather than fear food every single day.
I’d rather be single than fit into a society’s mold of what a woman should be. Yes, I’d rather be whole than be your ideal. For years, I felt uneasy in my own skin, always trying to change it. Now, I feel at home. I love my body for its strength and resilience.
When I look in the mirror, I see someone healing and powerful. When you look at me, you may see someone who doesn’t care about their health, but we need to align our perspectives if we’re to move forward. I’m a beautiful, healing being, and if you can’t love all of me, then none of me is available to you.
Fifteen years have led me to this wholeness, and I refuse to give any part of myself away ever again.
With affection,
Your fabulous lover, embracing every bit of myself.
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In summary, embracing all of yourself is essential for true happiness and health. You deserve to love and be loved for who you are, without the pressure to change.