Life of a Fatty

Yes kids, I'm fat. Morbidly obsese (oh, how I hate that term). Fatty fatty two by four (clearly I can get through the kitchen door since I do most of the cooking. Anyway, if you couldn't get through the kitchen door, chances are you would waste away from lack of access to the fridge).

I'm a fatty.

Most of the time I'm okay with that. I've spent a long time in this body and she and I have had to come to some sort of agreement. Otherwise I would have killed myself a long time ago, or I'd be a useless lump sitting in bed all day. To survive I have had to find a way to be okay with who I am at this exact moment. I guess I'm chosing being fat over being dead. Not everyone would make that choice.

I recently read an article about a study that said a huge, shocking, percentage of people would rather lose a limb or die earlier instead of being fat. This tells me two things. Some of those people have never been fat. Because it's not the end of the world. You can still have an active, healthy life. You can still wear cute clothes. You can still find love. The other thing it tells me is that the people who ARE fat are emotionally and mentally torturing themselves. That breaks my heart.

Oh, a third thing. I must be the only fat girl in the world who actually likes herself.

I have my twin niece and nephew to thank for my healthy outlook. When they turned five I was playing with them and one of them told me "you're fat". I was really hurt until M. pointed out that they were telling me the truth. And the truth set me free. I responded, "yes, I am fat" in a way that indicated that my body is as much a fact as my hair color or the fact that I like peanut butter and pickle sanwiches. That was it.

Yes, I'm fat.

The great thing is that admitting that I'm fat and being okay with it has allowed me to become healthy and happy. As a result, I'm actually losing a little weight. Amazing! Embrace the fat and the fat will set you free.

Hugs to all.