Color Me Fat
I am fat.
Three random letters that when combined scare the shit out of so many people. When I tell someone I’m fat, they immediately try to deny it.
“Oh no, you’re not fat! You’re curvy/thick/fluffy/squishy/Ruben-esque/another-awkward-ass-word-that-feels-like-a-bandaid!”
Or even worse, people try to justify it.
“It’s not that bad… Some people are so much worse!”
“But you have health problems and you’ve been stressed, so it’s not your problem!”
“You go to the gym, so don’t worry; it’ll change!”
It’s become a game I play now… How uncomfortable can I make people by saying I’m fat?
“Ma’am, did you want that medium or large?”
“Large, cause I’m FAT HA.”
“Uh oh uh ha.. ha… ha..”
But I’m not just trying to be a dick, I swear. I’m trying to take the power away from the word fat. It’s just another adjective, really. Why can’t I be smart, funny, pretty, ginger, tall, AND fat? It’s just a descriptor.
But trust me, I’ve had my issues with it. I spent eleven years holding that word in my hand, squeezing it until I bled hatred and shame towards myself. You could practically smell the self-loathing on me. I’ve done my time with eating disorders, obsessive compulsive exercising, standing in front of the mirror squeezing my squish and crying while I told myself how ugly, hideous, and disgusting I was. And it caused some serious fucking damage. Seriously, you can ask my therapist.
But I’m done. I’m done with spending hours thinking about how many calories are in one lick of a spatula dipped in brownie batter. I’m done having an entire walk-in closet of clothing that doesn’t fit because I kept buying “goal clothes.” I’m done feeling ashamed to walk into a room just because I’m fat.
Because, really, who fucking cares? I think it’s just been me.
Six months ago, I decided to take my mental health seriously. It’s been difficult as hell, don’t get me wrong. But I’m starting to realize, slowly but surely, that I’m fucking awesome. And the only person who needs to realize it is me. So piece by piece, I’m learning.
I’m a coloring book page. There’s been an outline there for so long. The lines were thick and curved, but they were empty. So I’m starting to color it in. I didn’t even realize there were so many colors. The picture was beautiful before, but it becomes even more beautiful with each richly hued inch.
My mom has taught me to fake it until you make it my whole life, and this whole confidence thing is a brand new bag for me. I’m dressing up, dating around, exploring my city, and experiencing so many things I never would have guessed, for better or worse. I’m collecting stories like a hoarder on a Lifetime tv show. And I need to tell somebody, because my best friends are getting tired of my text message novellas.
So here you go. May you laugh, cry, laugh until you cry, and be inspired to try something new, even if you don’t think you can. I’ll be right there with you.