Loving yourself. It’s a struggle. I’ve written about it
numerous times, but I’ve skimped here and there on the true feelings. I figured
if I kept it to myself, the shame wouldn’t be as bad. But, it is. If you know
me, you know I am fat. There is no graceful way of saying it. I am still
learning to come to terms with the word itself. “Fat.” It is, after all, just a
word. But, it’s a word with so many different connotations, mostly negative. As
I sit typing this, I am all too aware of the large legs folded beneath me, the
belly that expands outward, touching the edge of the computer. I am aware that I
have a double chin as I glance down at the keyboard occasionally. Of the stubby
fingers typing the very words you are reading. And there are questions bouncing
around in my head. Questions that always seem to be present, just at varying
levels.
How did I allow myself
to get all the way back here?
Why can’t I control
this?
Why is it so hard?
Can I love myself now,
and still strive to be better?
How?
How can you love
someone whom you deem undeserving?
What if I fail?
What worries me most is not the questions, but the abounding
lack of answers for them.
When I say it is a struggle- I mean it. Literally and
metaphorically.
*Pick up the (chips, cookies, crackers, cereal)*Look at
it*Put it in the cart*Think of how it will make you fatter*You will look
absurd*Your face is the first place it will show*Put it back on the shelf*Think
you could just buy it this once, and make up for it later*Later*Later*Put
(chips, cookies, crackers, cereal) back in the cart*Walk around the store,
obsessing about said decision*Contemplate putting it back*
In the end I either buy it, or I don’t. But, they both
result in the same emotional power trip.
If I buy it, what does that say about me? I am weak. I have no
willpower. I am fat because I am weak and have no willpower. It’s especially
bad once the consummation is over. Regret. Wondering why did I did it. Telling
yourself that this- this is why you’re fat. Forget that I haven’t eaten today.
Or that maybe I am human and make mistakes. All logic is out the window.
If I don’t buy it, I still obsess over it being so hard NOT
to buy something that others wouldn’t give a second thought. It goes from being
a healthy physical decision to a poor emotional state. It’s not normal I would tell myself. It’s just
not normal to crave food so badly. I become resentful that my body works
differently than others. I resent the PcOS, and the fact that even eating a
sandwich on whole wheat bread is punishable. I am infuriated that I can’t even
use portion control for a moderate serving of potatoes or grits. It pisses me
off that I will never really be able to drink orange juice without the
carbohydrates haunting me. And, so- in return- all of that frustration and
anger comes out in the one way it should not: self-loathing.
Now-I am, for the most part, a relatively happy person. But,
people often confuse happiness for confidence. I like to implement the whole “fake it till you make it”
regimen, personally. Don’t get me wrong, I am confident in many areas. But, when
it counts, let’s just say my skills are…less than stellar. This would come as a
surprise to many people, but for those who truly know me- they know my
struggle. I sometimes feel as if my head/heart have two different sections. One
says, “Love yourself right now. You have no obligations to change for anyone.
Don’t conform.” The other says, “You need to get your sh*t together. You can’t
change society. There are more of them than there are of you, and you have to
live in this world. Their world.” Somewhere, long ago, I learned to base my self-worth
on my weight and on the number on the scale or in my pants. I learned to allow
others to designate my happiness with my own body. I used to literally hate
everything I saw when I looked in the mirror. And, although I don’t feel that
way anymore, I’m not where I need to be. I gather inspiration from women such
as Tess Munster Rosie Mercado who flaunt their curves and own their style. Who
give the middle finger to those who try to destroy them. Do they have their bad
days? Of course. But, I often wonder if they have felt the things I have felt.
The loneliness. The frustration. The need to want to isolate at times. I wonder
if they have ever nearly cried in the middle of a restaurant because they
wanted to make a healthy choice, but couldn’t decide if doing so made them a
conformist or if not doing so made them just another fat chic. Sometimes, you
just want a burger. Because you’re human. You just happen to also be fat. And
other times, you just abstain from eating all together. Because you just happen
to be fat. As I said, the results are always the same.
Loving yourself. Totally. Wholly. Completely. It’s a
struggle. But, I’m really, really…trying to win it.
