On Being Fat


A friend of mine has recently started a series on her blog about being “The Fat Kid” and the effects it has had on her life. I have to admit that when I read the first installment, I was pretty shocked at the things she had to say, especially in regards to bullying by kids and family members alike.

I, too, have been fat my entire life. Since the age of six, I have been the biggest in the class or in my group of friends. My mom always gave me shit for being fat, but she was never horribly mean about it, and her intentions (though poorly executed) were to motivate me. However, I was never bullied by kids, I was never teased by kids, I never encountered any social issues due to my weight. Sure, over the years there were people who would use my weight to insult me, but I always laughed in their face – “I can lose weight, but you are ugly on the inside!”

I’ve seen the Lifetime movies, I’ve seen the tragic results of bullying, I’ve read all the articles, and I just cannot relate to wpid-collage_20150607224711345_20150607224850097.jpgmost fat people. It seems like they lived a life full of pain and misery, whereas I never let my weight be a “thing” for me, likely because nobody ever made it a “thing”. It isn’t that I like being fat, because it can be a pain in the ass sometimes, like when I wanted to ride this one rollercoaster and I couldn’t fit the belt over my lap, or when I see a really cute shirt but all they have are smalls and mediums. I just don’t care that I’m fat! I am very healthy, I have no weight-related issues, and I can get around just fine. I don’t need a cane or a scooter, I can dress myself, etc. When I was pregnant with Squeaks, I only gained six pounds and lost not only those six, but twenty-three more after that. (Of course I have gained ten back LOL).

My problem with being fat is that trying to not be fat gives me major anxiety, and I have reached the point in my life where anything that makes me stressed automatically goes in the literal or theoretical trash can. When I count calories or log exercise minutes, it makes me panic that I’m going to fail. I become obsessed, I become angry, and I become despondent. I just can’t do life anymore, and I end up starving myself instead of being healthy. But when I don’t put the pressure on, I eat better, I enjoy life, and I don’t stress and obsess every day.

Thus I have decided that I’m not going to do it anymore. I’m just going to live life, love life, and have fun with my family. Even though I believe in reincarnation, I still only get one life in this body, and I’m just going to make the most of what I’ve been given. I can’t let a little thing like a poochy belly get in my way!