And I don't mean weight. Except that I do mean weight. I mean, I'm going to talk about weight. I, of course, read infertility blogs, as I've discussed in the past. And I've thought about my motives for reading them, and I still don't know why, but I know I really take something from them. Recently, one of these women had to endure something that I'm not sure is endurable, except she's doing it. And it's amazing, really, and I find her awe-inspiring.
And then today, in her blog, she talked about blame. She blames herself for the situation she found herself in, because of her weight. And I'm sure that it's not her fault, because I'm sure that things happen that there is no cause, and no justification for. And this sort of tragedy is one of them. But people will blame it on her weight, because now, we blame it all on weight. As several people have pointed out, it's okay to hate fat people, and it's okay to feel superior to fat people in our society. And it leads this woman to the conclusions she draws, and it leads other women to stop eating, and other women to stop hoping, some women to stop feeling loved, to stop feeling validated, to stop feeling worthy of basic human contact. And it's sick.
I've been dealing with weight since high school. And when I think now of the size I was in high school, I feel awe-stricken that I should have been so small. The truth is, I will never be small girl. I would have to eat very little, and exercise for hours a day. I'm not Oprah. I can't afford to do this. But I make my efforts. I do more than many skinny women do. I exercise nearly daily--at least five to six times a week. I do different workouts--yoga, walking, some weight-lifting, eliptical. And I've lost no weight. And there's nothing medically wrong with me, and my EKG told the doctors that my heart is strong and healthy.
So here's the thing: my boyfriend thinks I'm beautiful. He loves me. Why don't I love me? I don't love me because society won't let me. Society treats fat like the plague. Like it's catching. (To clarify, I'm not saying obesity isn't a health issue. It is. But being healthy isn't just about being skinny, either.) I have watched loved ones whittle themselves down to what they think is an acceptable weight, and I think, shit, I should do that. But at what fucking price??? When is it time to just work on the important things--portion control, working out, a healthy body image and mental state? I am so sick of feeling unworthy, and unattractive. I'm so sick of shopping for clothes and coming up short because fat people don't deserve cute clothes. I'm so fucking sick of beating myself up over every bite of food I eat, whether it's an apple or ice cream. I have this little voice in my head that tells me when I stop thinking about it so deeply my body will cooperate with me, but the rest of me, man, that just bulldozes ahead into unhealthy territory. I'm not this way by accident.
A really unhappy combination of things put me where I am, and the truth is, I'm not sure I can ever really break free of them. For every Queen Latifah, there's an Oprah, an Amanda Bynes, a fucking sickly lollipop celebrity on the cover of US/Star etc. All we're ever told and shown in our lives is the image of women being skinny and beautiful. There's no cute, affordable clothes for girls who might not be the image of perfection society expects them to be. How the hell are you supposed to feel good about yourself in hideous clothing? I've taken refuge in things that I might not have if I wasn't who I am--I collect purses and shoes because those things, they don't expect you to be a size 2. They look good on you no matter what size you are.
But this isn't just about clothes. Good clothes would help. But so would good people. People who don't assume fat means lazy, who don't assume that we just don't care about ourselves. People who understand that eating lettuce and water isn't a good life, and it's not reasonable to expect people to eat that way to look like what makes those assholes feel comfortable. Fuck you if you're not comfortable with the way I look. This is me, and I'm not lazy, and I'm not sick. I don't have diabetes, or a thyroid problem. My heart is strong. I work my muscles hard, and yes, I haven't lost weight in five months of this. And I have to be okay with that. Because I don't fucking have an option. And you, out there, you don't have an optional me. There isn't a better me, or a cuter me waiting in the wings, to come to life when I lose all this weight. There isn't a skinny person inside me just waiting to break out. I'm dynamic as I am, and if I don't start seeing myself as beautiful I'll reach a point where I can't be saved. We all have that place, that unreachable, lonely, lost place, and I don't want to go there anymore. I don't want to sob for hours because I'm just a fat girl.
Because I'm so much more than that. I'm so much better than that. We all are. We need to stop buying into these ridiculous standards and start buying into ourselves. Every woman I know has some sort of issue with her body, and we can't fight for other things if we are constantly fighting our bodies. This is it for me. I'm done with it. I'm done trying to look perfect, trying to conform. I'll look how I look, dammit. And it's not how I WANT to look, or how I SHOULD look, it's just how I look. So fucking what. Here I am.
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