After a weekend of pizza, burritos, and wine, I still somehow managed to lose half a pound on the scale. This is why I love Weight Watchers. I’m not forced to give up the things I love. And, even though I’m not shedding 2-3 pounds every week, I’m doing it at a rate that works for me, is consistent, and allows me to indulge in all the things that make me happy.
Earlier this week, I was listening to an episode on This American Life called, “Tell Me I’m Fat.” It got me thinking about my own journey with my body and mind over the last 20+ years of my life. And it made me realize how much has changed in terms of my openness around my weight.
I used to tip-toe around my weight. As if not discussing it with the people around me would make it not real.
I thought that if we avoided discussing the elephant in the room (literally and figuratively!), the “elephant” wouldn’t actually exist.
I remember signing up for personal training classes at my gym when I was 15 or 16. I was mortified every time I saw somebody I knew for fear that they would judge me for being fat.
I remember standing in line for lunch in the dining hall in college – sweat dripping down my back – worried about what people would think of the fat girl ordering french fries.
I remember wearing sweatshirts and long pants in the summer even though I was burning up on the inside. In my mind, I was hiding the fat. If the fat was covered up, we couldn’t talk about it. We could just pretend it didn’t exist.
Fast forward to now.
I don’t know what’s triggered the change. Maybe age? Maybe maturity? But the fat girl doesn’t want to sweep the fat under the rug anymore.
I think that after years and years of pretending it wasn’t there, I am at a point where I can comfortably talk about it. Where I want to talk about it. Where I’m secure enough to say, “I’m fat.” I’ve embraced it. This isn’t to say that I am not constantly striving to be better and healthier than I was yesterday. But I can openly say, “I’m fat.” You don’t need to comfort me and tell me that I’m not. Because that’d be lying. You don’t need to tell me I’m beautiful. Because I already know that. And you don’t need to spew off health statistics about my health and my body. Because I already know them. I’m fat. And my body is OK.
I am working toward a healthier me every day.
And it’s much easier to do that when I don’t have to hide myself from the world.