How to Live Fat and Sassy Courtesy of My 75-Year-Old Grandmother

Any time I called my grandmother and asked her how she was doing she’d reply the same way.

“Fat and sassy.”

That always made me chuckle. She was five-foot-one and might have been eighty-pounds soaking wet.

As the matriarch of the family, my grandmother was the reason we all got together often— three adult children all married, and five granddaughters. My cousins felt more like siblings to me because Christmas wasn’t the only time everyone saw one another.

Grandma hosted sleepovers for all five of her granddaughters. She encouraged us to support each other in sports, school plays, and academics. We even took vacations together. My grandmother seemed to consider it her duty to keep us all close.

She made it obvious how much she loved us. And how much she loved seeing us spend time with one another.

Everywhere you looked in my grandmother’s home her creativity was evident. She had a sewing room organized with fabrics, patterns, and prototypes of clothing and dolls. Her living room held furniture she expertly reupholstered herself. A basket of yarn sat next to her favorite chair ready to be crocheted into a colorful pair of slippers, a sweater, or a scarf for a family member. When I was older, I learned she even helped design her last home. She epitomized the meaning of ‘creative homemaker’ for me — then and now.

Her encouragement was always present to help each of her granddaughters shine in our own unique ways. I think because she was such a creative person herself, it was easy for her to zero in on whatever talent or interest each of us displayed. And she reinforced any confidence we had for it.

She would talk to me about art and painting — something I thought I would do for the rest of my life at one point. She supported my sister’s interest in playing the piano with lessons and all the practice time she wanted on her baby grand. Providing voice lessons for my other sister encouraged her to sing her heart out.

Being ‘fat and sassy’ meant my grandmother loved herself because she did her best in life. And she owned that feeling. She did what she needed to do (and wanted to do) with confidence and no apologies. She was her own keeper. She answered to herself and her beliefs.

She was a perfectionist in most everything she did — sometimes an unlikable characteristic because she expected everyone to adhere to the same standards. But she taught me that doing your best in everything you did was important — necessary even.

Why attempt something if you refuse to throw your whole self into it? If it’s important, it’s worth doing right.

And even though I watched her sassiness deteriorate as she aged and her health condition progressed, I still caught a glimmer of that amazing attitude on life in her eyes up until the very end.

My grandmother’s last few weeks were spent heavily medicated in a hospital bed in her home. She slept often but continued with her ‘fat and sassy’ remarks in her wakefulness. She had a way of diffusing the tension in her room this way. Worry brought in from her visitors was eliminated with her positivity.

My grandmother taught me that being ‘fat and sassy’ means loving myself because I’m doing my best.

Her words ring in my head any time someone asks how I’m doing. Her words remind me to be true to myself and that it’s okay to focus on my dreams.

I’m doing well. I’m my own biggest cheerleader. I’m focusing on loving myself and doing my best in this one life I have.

I’m fat and sassy.

Just like my grandmother was.

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