The kind of fat I am depends on what side of fat you’re looking at me from. If you’re a thin person, I likely seem very fat. If you’re a very fat person, I might seem median to you. To me, I am fat.
I’ve been all different sizes. I’ve been bigger than I am now. I’ve been smaller than I was in high school. I’ve been everything in between. Right now I am fat; I don’t love it. Because I know what it’s like to be smaller, I know that it feelings better than I do now. But right now, I’m also happy — not with my body but with my life.
If you’re a thin person who has always been thin( or you’re a formerly fat person who worked your ass off to be thin ), you’re probably thinking something like “if you’re more comfy smaller, why not work hard to be smaller? ” If you’re a fat person, you might be thinking “me, too” or, alternatively, “there are ways to feel good without being smaller.”
You’re both right. Also, I already know both of those things.
I’ve opted different routes to wellness with my body. I have worked to lose weight in a safe and healthy route and been fulfilled and proud of that. I’ve also feed cake with reckless abandon and not cared about the upward movement of the scale needle. I have been preoccupied with weight loss. I’ve lived with and recovered from an eating disorder. I’ve been miserably fat. I’ve been miserably thin. I’ve been average — neither fat nor thin nor miserable.
What I am now is the product of a lot of years of self-loathing, a few years of self-loving, and 43 years of being a human being. What I am now is OK.
For most of my life, I have believed that I only needed to accomplish X to be fulfilled.
X might be being thin or having money; it might entail being married or divorced, living in a home or traveling abroad. I have accomplished many of the X’s, and I have been proud of those accomplishments. But ultimately, they have never attained me happier in my life. I believe now that you are about as happy as you make up your mind to be.
I think it’s true: There is a threshold past which you simply can’t get happier. If you have food and garment and your other basic needs satisfied, the rest of the stuff isn’t paramount to your happiness; it’s merely accoutrement.
I thought that being thin was the answer to my happiness, but it wasn’t. It was the answer to some things — more attention, a wider range of attire options, fewer sideways glances from my grandmother over the gravy boat — but there were many things being thin couldn’t do. Inducing me happy are members of them.
I know from experience that my weight is nearly irrelevant to my happiness. So I am choosing to stay fat.
I could change my body, but I don’t wishes to right now. The reasons I am selecting not to make any changes are both simple and complicated. I have plantar fasciitis, and I don’t feel like walk-to. Walking is an easy way to feel better in your body, but my foot hurts, therefore strolling hurts. Yoga does not hurt, so I’m doing that. Strolling might result in weight change, but I’m not really thinking about that right now. Instead, I’m focused on mending my foot.
Overall, though, my health is excellent. There are no pressing physiological issues. My blood pressure is great; my cholesterol is penalty. I have no compelling health risks motivating me to change my body.
My mental health is stable. I’m focused on my root health. I’m working on healing my body from the inside, using a combination of spiritual, mental, and physical changes. I am not working on changing my physical body because ultimately my physical body, while important, is smaller than all of the other things I’m working on.
My body doesn’t prevent me from doing the things I want to do.
I can ride my motorcycle, do yoga, chase my children, and run up and down a mountain and along the beach. So any endeavor at weight loss, right now anyway, would be rooted in esthetics, and the expectation for me to be aesthetically pleasing is one that I won’t surrender to because being beautiful isn’t that important to me.
We’ve been taught to value fairly above all of the other things we can be and are: smart, funny, generous, compassionate, kind, caring. But I am not young, and I am not a fool. I know two things: Beauty is fleeting, and the kind of people who care if I’m beautiful are not the person or persons I care to be around.
For all the work females( largely) do to achieve and sustain our beauty, our bodies will remain in flux. The thing you try to induce beautiful now will sag next year. I cannot avoid the varicose veins, the wrinkles, the stretch marks. I will not waste my hour trying. And if my partner one day told him that he thought I wasn’t beautiful and was no longer interested in me, I would have to tell my partner to get screwed. I don’t want to be with someone who values beauty above my intellect or my kindness.
Someone emailed me recently and said she’d read something I wrote a few years ago about being fat.
She wanted to know if I was still “fat and happy.” She wanted to know how to let go of the need to feel thin but also find elation. She wanted to know how I determined peace in my body. I don’t email everyone back, but I emailed her back because I had something to say I believed she would find valuable and that I needed to hear, too. The answer isn’t that I discovered peace in my body — it’s that I detected peace in my life. Once I situated that peace, I realized that the commotion I felt around my body wasn’t stronger than the pleasure I found in everything else.
This story originally appeared on Ravishly and is reprinted here with permission. More from Ravishly 😛 TAGENDAdvertisements%d bloggers like this: